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96th Familiar System
Jan 16, 2024 12:06:54 GMT -5
Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jan 16, 2024 12:06:54 GMT -5
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[/PTab={tab-background-color:#ffffff;tab-font-family:georgia;tab-color:#000000;tab-hover-background-color:#000000);}][PTab=DRAGONLET]tribute name:
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[PTabbedContent][PTab=INDEX]
1. Hysterian 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. | 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. |
Standing at an absolutely monstrous height of one foot tall, this clearly ferocious beast doesn't get why you're cooing at it so sweetly. Don't you know that when it gets big in a couple of years it'll be able to eat you whole if it so chooses? Wait, what was that noise? It nuzzles its way into your coat, hiding away from the world it will one day conquer no doubt, and is snoring a minute later, little puffs of fog rolling out of it's adorable little mouth. Strangely, you may notice a few peculiar things about this creature while spending more time with it, like that it lacks scales, and a breath weapon, and its wings are not yet developed enough to let it do anything other than hover a couple inches off the snowy ground for a few seconds. And it has designated you as its protector until it has developed its own defenses enough.
There, nestled into the bluff, lies a small creature covered in soft white fur. Its blue eyes look up at you and stare until it is interrupted by a sneeze. Its tails- it has six of them- unfurl behind it, dusting the snow from itself as it playfully trots up to you, its curious little nose sniffing at you in hopes of somehow identifying who you are. If you pick it up or touch it, you'll be alarmed by how warm the little thing is. Practically a heater- you get the idea that carrying this around in your arms all day would keep you much more toasty. Clearly derivative of some foxlike creature, it looks no bigger than an ordinary house cat, with adorable little mews of communication to match.
You don't think the poor thing can see very well in the night. That, or it's maybe a bit dumb: immediately after seeing it, you watch the spiky thing walk headfirst into a tree, flipping itself over onto its back and scrambling to right itself now that the frozen spikey protrusions jutting out of its back have skewered the fresh coat of snow. It is palm-sized, and upon closer inspection you see that its eyes are closed completely. This is enough to make you realize it's practically helpless so long as it is handled with care. It sniffs at the open air, trying to get a sense of you after finally regaining its footing. The quills on its back aren't just frozen- they seem to be made of ice themselves. Though, no matter how much you seem to handle it, the quills do not melt. An odd little thing for sure!
First seen in the 93rd Games, the Horu Ferret has been modified to match the snowy terrain in which it scurries about, trying its best to find little trinkets and treasures to return to its burrow with. Unlike its brethren, however, this particular ferret seems more interesting in sharing things with you- you watch as it hops forward and places something- an acorn, you think- at your feet, before scurrying back to the brush to watch your reaction to its gift. This is unprecedented behavior, a fact you may or may not be privy to, as this species is typically very selfish. Whether you choose to befriend it or not, you'll now find that the ferret regularly goes out and forages small little presents for you to keep.
Though the seelies were first introduced in the 87th, they have slowly grown to become a staple in the Games since, which reflects their continued favorable presence within the Capitol. This Games, however, there has only been one that anyone may have seen: a flickering little blue light hiding from behind trees, peeking at the humans from afar and then vanishing into the brush when anyone tries to get too close. Except you, it would seem. This is a much-updated version of the first series released several years ago, complete with actual stubby little arms and a pair of glowing white eyes, which blink up at you. It hovers a few inches above the ground, cooing in attempts to communicate with you as you draw closer.
Good thing this kitty doesn't like being pet: its fur is frozen into a deceptively soft-looking shell of ice, which it regularly reenforces by rolling around in the snow. It could be for camouflage and hunting purposes, or it could be that the little guy's life depends on it. Other than this strange peculiarity, you cannot see any other differences between this animal and an ordinary house cat. While it may hiss and swat at you for trying to pet it, you'll be pleasantly surprised to find that it enjoys curling up in your lap when you sit still for long enough.
Blorby comes with his own little sphere of ice, which he plays with like a toy: tossing it into the air, leaving it at your feet as if he wants to play catch with you. But you know just from looking at his stubby little arms that there's no way he'd be able to actually catch anything you throw, so you roll the ball toward him in the snow and the little thing seems downright content, scuttling about and returning the ball to you as quickly as he can, his big eyes staring up with admiration. His brother, Bellybop is also somewhere in the arena looking for little Blorby, though you wouldn't know unless the two of you happened across him.
The arctomantula is a cousin to the macromantula, though distant and not exactly similar. The arctomantula, for instance, cannot grow bigger than the size of an average palm! It can withstand temperatures far colder than the macromantula, and as well, it is completely nonvenomous. The arctomantulas are known for a couple of things, including their largely docile temperament. But the thing that is making all the headlines is the peculiar webbing they are able to create. Rather than being water-proof, the webbing uses water as a natural bonding agent, reenforcing all its anchor-points and enhancing individual strands. Some would like to mass produce these creatures for their biproduct, but anyone who has spent time with one will know they are quite friendly despite the scary outward appearance.
They aren't all babies- they're just doomed to look like they are for as long as they shall live. And this Cubble certainly has its moments of defiance where it likes to remind those around it that it's fully grown, standing at roughly the same height as a teddy bear and scratching at shins with tiny ineffective little claws. They are quite good climbers, though, and are named for their habit of cuddling for warmth and sleeping for prolonged amounts of time. It's hard work convincing everyone you're tough! Sometimes you just need to nap for a couple hours while your human carries you all cozy in their arms and protects you from the big bad scary world! The trick to winning the favor of a Cubble is simple: have a heart, for Ripred's sake!
It shakes the snow from its sleek white feathers, taking steps so carefully its feet don't break the surface tension of the snow and leaves virtually no tracks as it inches closer, closer, closer. Its beak glistens in the light, its cunning eyes stare unblinking. At once, it pounces forward and catches a mouse you hadn't even noticed before, making quick work of swallowing the thing whole: bones and all. It then turns and looks up at you, those same hunter's eyes now sparkling with innocence as if you'd just caught it doing something naughty. It flutters its wings to get the snow off of them, then hovers up to your shoulder, assessing you further. Yep, it seems to decide, friend, not food!
It thinks it is so tough, and maybe if it would be if it weren't so darn tiny! This defensive creature uses its hard shell to protect itself from predators and isn't afraid to use its pinchers when needed. It usually stands unprovoked, but it is fiercely protective of itself, a trait you will find now extends itself to you. Everywhere you go, this little Clawzer will be only a few steps away, silently waiting to jump to your defense at any moment, like the world's smallest bodyguard.
A fearsome and foreboding caw of the Craven sends chills down one's spine. This little thing, this little creature, this little harbinger of debauchery: it almost seems to laugh from beneath its bonelike mask at a joke only it knows the punchline to. Its raven-like plume hides it in the darkness, its spindly legs built for speed on land: a zip of shadow until its gnarly little hands find something tasty to eat, like a discarded piece of garbage or some rotten fruit or some leftover roadkill. It isn't picky. But it seems to have noticed that you are! Picky, picky, picky! It's going to try and broaden your horizons now, bring you little gifts of moldy potatoes plucked from the ground, still-squirming bugs to make you big and strong!
Bellybop bangs on its belly to create a drum-like sound as it ceaselessly searches for its baby brother Blorby. Of the two, Bellybop is definitely taller, its fur darker, and its features vaguely more catlike. But perhaps the most notable difference is a seriousness that its brother is missing. A sternness. Little Bellybop is worried for his family. If you pay attention, you'll even find it tugging your pants leg in a different direction, hoping you'll follow and help it to find its little brother so they can play catch again sometime soon.
The very nest it comes from grows hazy with mist. Its fog-like plume begins to swirl as its egg hatches, its tiny little form unfurling and unfolding like a cotton ball becoming undone, just to find that it is all alone in the world. It searches ceaselessly for mother, for food, for help that isn't coming. It hops up on the side of the nest to get a better look and- oh no! It falls over the edge! Not to worry, when it's this small it's practically lighter than air: it floats gently down, down, down to the ground where you eventually come across it. It chirps desperately, hoarsely even at this point. It might not have much longer if you don't help it...
It isn't shy about its interest in you. From the moment you notice it sitting on a tree limb, staring back at you, it's abundantly clear that it wants to be your friend. Slowly, carefully, it walks up to you without making any eye contact. It tugs your jacket right off of your shoulders and tries to put it on, laying the fabric over its head and then tripping over a sleeve into the snow. It's okay, though! It has a good sense of humor. It picks up a handful of snow and tosses it at you for witnessing its silliness. When you bend to try and pick up your jacket, it seizes the moment and climbs onto your back, sniffing your hair and cooing gently as if trying to communicate.
Puffguin, as the name suggests, are a cross between penguins and puffins. They have a large beak perfect for breaking through icy shells including yours! They waddle up to you and leave a little pebble on your shoe: a token of their loyalty to you. To them, its as good as a marriage proposal. Should you accept it- and by that we mean do anything with the pebble other than kick it off your shoe and leave it there- the puffguin will follow where ever you lead. It brays and coos and waddles along, eventually resorting to hopping forward to keep pace with you.
You watch it play along the snowline for a while, its awkward shuffles and barrel rolls completely uninhibited. Its nose is dotted with a collection of snowflakes when you finally make a noticeable enough movement for it to regard you with its beady eyes. You could be mistaken, but the way its pressing its fin to its mouth and then flipping it out kind of looks like the little thing is blowing you a kiss. It opens its mouth and you realize that it hasn't made any sound until now. You don't know what you were expecting, but what comes out is a slow, rumbling melodious tune. Rhythmic. Strangely hypnotic. And certainly not what an actual seal sounds like.
Many think it's a snowy owl when it first appears, and it's an easy mistake to make: they're very similar in size, both are active at night, and both have beautiful large white wings and white plumes. But it is in fact some sort of moth-based hybrid. It snacks on goodberries (or largely-wool or otherwise animal-based products if you have any to spare) and enjoys resting on top of your head when its wings tire, often leaving you with a small powdering of snow in your hair and on your shoulders when it is ready to flutter around some more. It is a bit lethargic during the day, but can be restless during the night and may flutter off to go and find food while you are asleep. It always seems to come back though!
He is small. He is angry. He don't have big scary teefs yet. (Nor will he ever, but shh, he doesn't need to know this.) The Shorkling is truly more a product of could we than one of should we. By all counts, the little guy is a shark with arms and legs who can breathe air, who cannot swim, who does not have sharp teeth, who has an entirely herbivorous diet, and who will never grow to be more than 2 feet tall. But he is still a shark, so he likes to play rough- and also you can't be certain but you think sometimes when you're playing, he genuinely may be trying his little hardest to eat you. He also gets tired frequently (he has such little legs!) and is deceptively chunky for such a small boy, so carrying him can sometimes be a hassle. When he's acting unruly, your best bet is to give him something like a piece of wood to gnaw on until he drifts to sleep.
He manages to catch you off guard before you know he's there: rams right into the back of your knees and knocks you into the snow. It takes you a moment to adjust but then you see him, grumpy little thing, perched a couple feet away and looking at you as if it was somehow your fault he knocked you down. He snuggles up against you and seems content to lay there until you move to stand, in which case he immediately rears to try and keep you down. He blows air through his nose. He is truly not very effective and it doesn't hurt- he has so much poofy black fur that it feels closer to being hit with a pillow- but every time you try to stand, he tries to knock you down and he will continue to do so every time you do not give him the attention he feels he deserves. He is baby! Give love! Or maybe some of your edible plants...
You've been feeling pretty sad for yourself when you happen upon this little creature, so its fur turns to a deep shade of blue when it turns its one oversized eye on you. The shock of seeing its fur change color is so alarming that it surprises you- maybe even you gasp! When you do, you see its fur changes to an electric-colored orange. Curiosity begins to take over so the orange fades into a pale yellow. If you're angry, it turns red. If you feel mournful it turns black. Everything you feel while it has its little eye on you will be reflected through the color of its fur. It does have a bit of a staring problem, but it likes to spend its time hanging out in your pocket where it's warm, so you just gotta make sure you don't let it look too long when others are around if you're keeping secrets.
You're peacefully asleep when it accidentally stumbles into your camp. It marches on and on through the snow hastily, as if being pursued. It peeks from around bushes looking for movement before it advances, hides around large structures so the big bad monsters cannot see it. It climbs onto and over your chest before slipping down next to your shoulder just as you exhale your breath and it realizes you are not a strange lumpy rock. Then it screams. Not a howl, not a bleat: an ear-piercing scream of terror, which is strangely vaguely human-sounding, so loud you'd have trouble believing something so small could make such a noise. It runs away as fast as its legs can carry it, hopping over a fallen limb for cover before turning to stare at you, quivering in fear. It's rather known for its panicking, this little thing! You should calm it down before it signals something scarier.
The clip-clop of its hooves makes you look up to see the silly little creature as it crosses a fallen tree over what must've once been a river before everything froze. Its pink fur looks plush and soft, swaying in the breeze. There's notably a cone-shaped horn jutting out of its forehead, coming down to a fine point near the tip. Its tongue hangs out as it continues crossing: trip trop trip trop! Just before it makes it to the other side, the log its standing on begins to groan and snaps, the entire thing falling three feet into the empty bed of ice and snow below. After struggling a moment to find its footing, the little thing hops back up, seemingly completely uninjured, but a large piece of bark was skewered by its horn and it doesn't seem able to get it off. Maybe you could help it...
She appears to be some sort of cross between a fennec fox, an arctic fox, and a chihuahua, though none of that is verified. What can be said about her is that her blue fur is soft and she loves for it to be pet- by you and no one else. She is quick and elusive and unsettlingly smart. You watch her hunt by catching a beetle and killing it, leaving it out as bait for a bird to come and claim while it hides nearby in the bushes. When you're first certain she's following you, you spin around and see her quickly duck behind something as if she knows you're onto her. But perhaps strangest of all is that when you finally kneel down toward her, she quietly steps out of the brush and shows herself to you, pressing her head against your palm.
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