ladyanaconda

[ladyanaconda]

I should take this into account when drawing Dorceans XD

Any advice for what to do when posing a character with four arms? I don't know how to pose the other two without them just doing the same thing as the top two.

This is an excellent question! I’m glad we can tackle some kind of inhuman anatomy here too. 

First, let’s look at the different ways to position the second pair of arms (there are many other ways, but these are very common): 

Second, positioning can have to do with the character’s emotion or personality. Here are a few ways to show that: 

In the end, I think it should also come down to silhouette (how the character looks in one solid color, no inner details). If that looks clunky, the whole thing looks clunky. A good pose should make a good and interesting (if not clear) silhouette. 

Links to the Opal and Four Arms art I used: 

http://e021.tumblr.com/post/127361266564/really-shiny-opal-doodle

https://www.deviantart.com/mateusboga/art/Ben-10-Four-Arms-686615241

-Mod Future (ko-fi)

[ladyanaconda]

Happy Father’s Day!

[ladyanaconda]

Reblog if it's OK for other artists to draw your OCs

Sometimes I get too timid to send asks to ask. I want to see how many people are ok with artists drawing their OCs!

[ladyanaconda]

Some interesting facts on tattooing in Dorcean culture.

Dorcean chieftains can be distinguished by the tattoo-like markings in their fur, displaying the colors of their tribe. The process—which is reminiscent of traditional Hawaiian tattooing—is long, complex, and exhausting, both for the tattoo artists involved and the chieftain. 

The tattooing of Forest and Polar Dorceans includes one more step, which involves clipping the fur in patterns (kinda like equine clipping). Afterward, the tattoo needles with the ink are inserted. When the fur grows back, it’ll be permanently dyed the color of the ink used.

Since Sea Dorcean fur is very short, like a seal's, they don't need to clip it, and the tattoo needles can be applied directly to the skin.

Tattoo artist is a well-respected occupation, especially amongst Sea Dorceans, where tattooing has a deeper significance. They have a vast knowledge on mixing plants, berries, and pigments to create colors.

Depending on the complexity of the tattoos, and how many parts of the body will be tattooed, the process can take from 5 to 20 hours.

The tattooing of a new chieftain is treated as a ritual of sorts. The candidate and the tattoo artists lock themselves within the village's sacred grove for the duration of the process, with no contact with the outside. In the meantime, the tribesmen wait outside until the new chieftain emerges with his brand-new tattoos. A celebration follows.

Because Dorcean dermis is thicker than a human's, the needles used are longer and thicker, thus making the process painful—even by Dorcean standards. This is believed to test the new chieftain's willpower and resilience: a Dorcean who can't withstand the pain is not fit to lead the tribe.

Besteel's tattooing lasted 18 hours. The tattoo artists were impressed that never didn't cry out or growled in pain once.

[ladyanaconda]

How about a short story about your take on Besteel dealing with fatherhood?

This is another one that ended up running away from me and being way longer than I expected. Oopsy!

Blessings (and Trials) Come In Fours

A great predator stalked the forest floor on six bulky legs, silent as death, despite its size. It paused and lifted its tapered, cobby head to sniff the air. Senses opened, analyzing scents and electric currents from all of the lifeforms around; but the prey it stalked was not yet in reach. Snorting, it shifted the apparatus it had gripped between two talons and continued on its way.

Behind it, four editions of the predator in miniature tumbled down a mossy rise. They were not as stealthy as their parent: they hopped and bounced around each other, chittering and clamoring. The larger predator stopped suddenly, and the little fluff balls ran into its legs. It turned its head to glare down at them until they noticed. The fluff balls stilled, then settled in a row.

Besteel narrowed his eyes. "You four are lucky the prey is still a long ways off, or you would have scared it away with all of that noise. A hunter has to be stealthy. Don't make me tell you again."

His sons bowed their heads. Besteel grunted, shaking his head, and continued onwards. There was a small pause, and then they followed- this time, much more quietly. Besteel was starting to enjoy the silence...and then one of the fluff balls broke away from the others, increasing his pace until he was walking at Besteel's side. He looked up at the weapon in his father's talons- and him- with adoring reverence.

"...Can I hold the boomrod, Father?" Venar asked tentatively.

"No! No! Me! Me! I want to hold it!" Ocis cried, rushing over to push his brother aside.

"I asked first!" Venar snapped, roughly retaliating.

"Doesn't matter who asked first," Besteel said, already exhausted, "because none of you are holding the boomrod. It's a weapon and a tool, not a toy."

"Awww," his sons balked, but dared not question. A slight smile tugged at Besteel's face.

"It's too heavy for you now, anyway," he said.

"But what if- when- when we're older and bigger?" Vindex asked. "Then can we hold it?"

"By then, you'll each get one of your own- if you prove yourselves."

That made all four of the eyasses perk up.

"And a glider?" Venar asked hopefully.

Besteel laughed. "And a glider, if I can manage to get one for each of you. Some of you might have to share."

As expected, this caused an uproar amongst his sons, who began vehemently arguing over who would have to share- or otherwise declaring they would never share. This just made Besteel laugh to himself even more. What a bunch of vicious, rowdy little monsters, he thought affectionately.

“We’ll worry about it when you’re older,” he said, reaching into the knot they had become- as usual, the argument had turned into a scuffle- and plucking out the main troublemaker by the scruff: Ocis tended to start most fights between the boys, and was always first to bite. He hung in his father’s grasp, all his limbs curling in, abashed. The others immediately stopped fighting, gazing up to see what he would do. 

Besteel chuckled and placed Ocis back down again. “Now let’s get going before it takes us another day to track that gaeldak herd.” 

The boys again fell silent and in line behind him. Besteel only spoke occasionally to point out tracks or broken branches, half-eaten fungal tendrils and flattened bracken; places where the herd had passed. He made them each sniff some of the detritus, and tested their knowledge on scent trails; he was proud to note that all of them always gave the correct answers, and seemed to have appropriately sharp senses. 

Another hour passed. The forest began to thin out, and eventually opened into a wide plain filled with tall grasses and flowers. Far from the treeline was the prey they were after: a large congregation of beasts on four slender legs, covered in bright orange hide: the gaeldak herd. Besteel lowered himself in the shadows of the underbrush, then gestured for his sons to do the same. They crept towards a cluster of animals closer to the edge of the forest. Besteel scanned the selection carefully, choosing a target for his sons; this was their hunt, for now. 

“Listen,” he said to them, low so as to not spook the animals, “do you know how a Dorcean hunts an animal without a weapon?” 

“Of course. But can’t you just blast one with the boomrod, Father?” Vindex asked softly. “Or snare it with a net?” 

“I could,” Besteel agreed, “but a Dorcean huntsman needs to hunt with his claws and teeth, too. It’s always important to keep those skills sharp, and tradition alive- so that’s what you’re doing today: hunting as your ancestors did.” 

He nudged them forward, pointing at their target- but the boys didn’t need further encouragement. They fanned out, rushing silently through the underbrush, together closing in on an animal that had wandered a little ways off from the rest of the herd. It was an elder individual, by the sagging skin and dull orange of its thick leathery hide, covered in scars; and a bull, judging by the curled horns on its head. They would have no trouble with it, if they did well. 

Hopefully they did well; this was a test, to see if they could handle larger, more dangerous prey, and could work together to do it. Only then could Besteel trust them to handle a true hunt on their own- and maybe, if they were exceptional, a boomrod…when they were older, that is. He didn’t trust a bunch of four-year olds that much. 

He watched them carefully, his sharp eyes catching their movements in the shadows and through the grass as they closed in on the old bull. It pleased him to see that Venar was taking charge, signaling to the others now and again- and that the other three were listening. They slowly cut off its escape…the old thing was none the wiser, too busy nibbling on a piece of fungus it had dug up…and then they pounced. 

Besteel had to dig his claws into the dirt to stop himself from rushing in- both to ensure his son’s safety and not let the prey escape. The rest of the herd abandoned the elder, fleeing to save themselves. The bull was bucking wildly, but the weight of the four eyasses clinging to it was too much for it to throw off. The boys brought it down, pinning it to the grass, but not yet making the kill. 

Besteel felt all three of his hearts swelling with pride and affection for his eyasses. He laughed, coming out of the bushes.

“There can be no doubt that you’re my sons,” he said proudly, “look at that! A full grown gaeldak, all by yourselves! And no weapons or nets! Like the true hunters you are.” 

All four boys purred at his praise. Besteel took a length of strain twine from one of the satchels slung over his shoulders and tied the beast’s legs together. It struggled, but could not escape; the more it tried, the tighter the twine got. 

“Now who's going to finish it off?” Besteel asked his sons. 

“I want to!” Little Redimus said, kicking and elbowing his littermates aside until he stumbled to his father's feet. 

“You, Redimus?” Besteel asked. He partially regretted naming the youngest after his own little brother- only because it caused a split second of confusion whenever he called his name; but it was also funny whenever he did it in front of the senior Redimus, and it caused even more confusion. He smiled and nodded. “Alright, go ahead. Show us how a real hunter does it.” 

Little Redimus pinned one of the gaeldak’s horns with one talon, a few others pinning down the shoulder. Yet another came up to squeeze the top of its neck, and then slid downwards, smoothing the protective layer of leathery frills; the shield thus disposed, he bit its throat. A soft crunch, and its eyes went milk white. It was dead. 

The eyas released it, grinning up at his father with bloodied jaws. Besteel purred in approval and patted his head, while his brothers looked on enviously. 

“Good job, Redimus. That was a quick and clean kill. That’s how it’s supposed to be done.” 

The eyasses then fell to, each taking their fair share of the kill (after a brief squabble over who earned the rights to the choice organs and tenderloin- Venar won that). Besteel watched proudly as they devoured the carcass down to the bone- saving only the skull, hooves, horns, teeth, and skin as trophies, or later use; they wasted nothing, as according to the huntsman’s law. 

These were packed away in one of Besteel’s satchels. Then they cleaned up and headed back towards the temporary campsite they had made, where Besteel’s glider was. They loaded a few other catches they had made onto this, then took off, the engine humming. A short journey on the glider took them to an entirely different part of the forest, much further north. Once more, they landed in a field. 

This was a shared hunting ground between a few tribes- a peaceful meeting place where one could meet up with others and trade- either game or news. There were already some trappers and pelt traders, and even a few females. A couple groups of eyasses ran around, either chasing a small animal for practice or wrestling with each other. Besteel set his sons loose, then turned himself towards two trappers with markings he recognized. 

These were distant cousins of his, from his father Keest’s original tribe, before he had split off to be on his own. They greeted him warmly as he approached. 

“Besteel! It’s been too many seasons since we’ve seen you last,” one of them said. His companion chuffed. 

“Too many indeed. We’ve never known you not to show yourself around the posts and grounds, gloating about your new trophies. What’s been keeping you lately?” 

Besteel settled himself near them. They each offered him a drink of water from their flasks, a bit of traditional politeness towards even a distant relative; Besteel declined both and sipped from his own. He took his time answering, if only to annoy them in a bit of good-natured humor, and to build up a little suspense- when you boasted, you had to add just a pinch of flair. 

He gurgled his drink to clear his throat, then swallowed it. “What have I been keeping, you mean: a family.” 

Besteel chuckled at their shocked expressions, and he couldn’t blame him; no one would have suspected Besteel to be the sort to leave a notch on a female’s throat; a bachelor male had certain freedoms, and he had had a wide and varied selection of nightmates. They probably assumed choosing only one had been quite a sacrifice.

“Really?” The first one said, almost incredulous. “You, gallral amongst the broodhens? You started a family?” 

Besteel nodded. His thoughts drifted to the mother of his children. “I did. Even a gallral has to roost somewhere, have some chicks of his own.” 

“So which one of your many suitresses gets to brag on such a claim? She must feel like she caught Orbona’s best trophy, the prize of her harem.” 

Besteel clucked in appreciative amusement at the compliment. “The bragging rights would be mine. She is the one who blessed me with my four eyasses.”

“Four eyasses? In one litter? In your pouch?” One of the trappers said, astonished. The other one’s jaw hung open in amazement. 

Besteel had carefully inserted this information to conceal more; no one could know that his mate had broken an oath to so bless him. Again, he thought of Eegis, and all three of his hearts ached with longing- an ache soon soothed by pride in their brood. He clucked. 

“Yes.” 

They gave him a sympathetic look, bowing their heads in respect for the pain he had had to endure. Besteel snorted. 

“Oh, don’t waste your pity. I’m alive and walking just fine, aren’t I?” 

They chuckled at his joke. “Four healthy males. They must be a joy to you,” the first one said. 

Besteel’s chest bowed out with pride. He pretended to groom himself casually, burying his beak in the thick fur under a leg to hide his smirk. 

“Oh, they are,” he said in a colloquial tone, like he wasn’t boasting, “only four years old, and each of them already have slicksharp skulls as a part of their trophy collections. They’ve earned a few accolades, too, from the eyas hunting festivals of the lorelmoth season: Vendar, my oldest, got the first prize.” A crystal ball with a lorelmoth engraved inside. Besteel kept it in a special fur-lined trunk meant for the purpose. 

The second trapper snorted impatiently. “So are you here just to brag, or did you want to do business?” 

“Both,” Besteel said, lifting one of his satchels- this one bulging with products of his own kills. 

Besteel gave them the pelts he had personally tanned, as well as some other items. As they assessed these, the huntsman continued to boast about his sons’ many accomplishments. 

“Who’s stupid children are those?” The first trapper snorted suddenly. He was glaring over Besteel’s shoulder, back towards the tree line. 

Besteel glared at him, then turned to glower at whatever he was looking at, these stupid miscreants that had interrupted his gloating about his own perfect children; ah, some eyasses had broken off from the group, and were poking and prodding at what looked to be a chimera. Idiots. 

Wait…

Besteel squinted, his sharp eyes, even at this distance, catching the patterns on the eyasses’ little backs. Those sharp eyes widened. 

The second trader huffed and stuck his beak up in disgust. “Ill-behaved little monsters,” he growled. “Did anyone teach them how dangerous chimeras can be? How did their sire raise them?” 

Besteel didn’t have time to claw their faces off for the remarks, or worse- he was rushing for his sons. His hearts pounded with worry: what were they doing? Where were the other two? Were they alright?

When he got there, Besteel snatched Venar up by the scruff and gave Redimus a firm smack across the back of the head. Venar laughed, until Besteel flicked him on the bridge of his nose. The eyass yelped, covering the spot with his talons.

“Where are your brothers?” He demanded. 

They pointed at the chimera. The side of the cup-shaped body was moving, like two little things were scurrying around inside. The chimera rumbled, agitated. Besteel grabbed the rim- the ‘lip’ of the thing’s mouth- and tipped it, reaching inside with two more talons to grab his other sons by the scruff. 

He held all four of them up in front of him, growling. They all curled in on themselves and trembled. 

“I was just bragging about you four!” He snapped at them. “Then I turn around and you're doing something stupid! Making me look like a fool!” 

They flinched at each harsh inflection. Vindex started hiccuping. Venar was wiping his eyes with his little preening claws, as if he only had something in them. Little Redimus wrung his tiny talons, refusing to look up. Ocis openly sniffled. 

Besteel shook them- though gently. “Stop that! Stop that right now! What's wrong with you?! For Ojo's sake!” 

He placed them on the ground before him in a row. He glared at each of them for a moment, then crossed his arms. A low growl continued to rumble in his chest. 

“What happened, exactly?” 

None of them answered for a moment. They glanced between themselves- usually that meant they were trying to decide who was going to speak for the rest. Usually, Besteel would have been a little more patient, allowing them a minute or so to choose- but not today. He bore some of his teeth. 

“Answer me. Now!” 

“We- we were just playing, Father,” Venar piped up. He was usually the one who spoke for the others, due to being the first born. 

“With a chimera?!” Besteel bellowed. “WHY?!” 

The boys cowered.

“We were playing hide and hunt,” Venar sniffled, “and- and then I guess Ocis jumped into the Chimera to hide-"

“Vindex jumped into it first!” Ocis cried, “Don’t blame me!” 

“Don’t blame me either!” Vindex said. “You were the- the- one who jumped in first, and I was try- trying to pull you out-” 

“Push me out so you could take my hiding spot, you mean!” 

“Liar!” 

“You’re the liar! You and your stupid stutter-” 

“Guys, please-” Little Redimus whined, covering his face with his talons. 

“Well, they were both in there when we found them,” Venar continued, ignoring his brothers, by now having to speak over them as they fought amongst themselves. “So Redimus and I were trying to get them out, but the chimera was getting mad, and-” 

The argument broke out into a full-on fight. The knot of eyasses, made up of the other three, bumped into Venar. Venar yelped, growled, and jumped in, hitting and biting and scuffling with the rest- forgetting entirely their father’s interrogation in favor of taking their frustrations out on each other. Besteel watched them for a moment, and then stared off into space. He wondered- as he often did at moments like these, when the exhaustion caught up to him- why he was doing this alone. Where was Eegis to deal with the litter she had helped to spawn when he needed her? 

Oh, right: she was too busy fending off poachers from a bunch of giant pill bugs. 

Besteel left them to argue and concluded his business. His cousins said nothing, only handed him back his satchel and items with blank expressions. The huntsman felt the humiliation- and a sudden urge for violence that might have cured it- but decided to resist. Instead, he turned and left, grabbing his eyasses and loading them up on the glider. For a while the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the sobs of his children. 

Eventually he heard one of them trying to get his attention, clearing their throat amongst a chorus of soft sniffles and whines - Besteel didn’t bother to turn his head to see which one it was. He didn’t feel like listening to any more excuses at the moment. There was a pause made up of more hiccups and sniffles, and then the throat clearing started up again, just a little louder. 

“...Sire?” A little voice peeped. 

Besteel ignored it. 

“...Sir?” 

Besteel gritted his teeth. 

“...Sir?”

No response. There was more sniffling and hiccuping from the eyasses. Besteel felt his temple beginning to throb. 

“...Dad?” 

Just a little further to the camp, Besteel. Only a little further…

“...Daddy? Daddy?...Daddy!” 

“‘...F-father,” another little voice hiccuped, “Venar is-is trying to-” 

“SHUT UP!” Besteel snapped. The eyasses jumped in their seats, and immediately burst into tears. Besteel groaned and dragged a pair of talons down his face. His headache throbbed even more painfully. 

Finally, they made it back to the main camp. His sons, though still sobbing, helped to put things away without having to be asked- it was probably so routine at this point that it had become automatic, just something they did without thought; though it seemed they did most things without thought. His sons then settled into the hollow that served as their sleeping place and sulked in there, leaving Besteel a little time to himself to sit and think. 

What was he to do with them? Maybe yelling at them had been punishment enough for now, but the way they had behaved, as if no danger could possibly threaten them, made him wonder if he needed to send them off somewhere, at least temporarily, for their safety. But where to send them? Eegis couldn’t and wouldn't take them. He couldn't leave them with his father's former tribe- he didn't know them well enough.

Or at least, he could just dump them on his brother for a weekend. That would give him a little time to decompress- and would be amusing, too, to see how well Redimus could handle the little beasts. Besteel snorted at the thought; it seemed he had eyasses of his own and became a complete know-it-all on parenting, always making snide ‘suggestions’ and raising ‘concerns’ about the way Besteel raised his sons. The way he raised his sons was just fine! Redimus should be more concerned about his own eyasses, the way he was raising them to be spoiled, nontraditional-

“Father?” 

Besteel blinked out of his reverie. His vision was somewhat blurry from exhaustion, though, so he had to really squint to see which of his children was addressing him. The little horizontal lines of light gray starbursts across this one’s back told him that this was Venar. He grunted. 

“Hm?” 

Venar flinched a little, and Besteel wondered why. The eyass found an interesting root protrusion in the ground to look at. One of his little talons reached down, tracing the bumps and curves on the bark. Venar didn’t see it, but Besteel’s expression softened, ever so slightly; Eegis always did something similar, too, when she was nervous, the few times he had seen her nervous; when she had told him she was pregnant, she had been rolling a stick between her talons. 

“...Are you angry with us?” Venar asked, softly. 

Oh. That’s why Venar had flinched when he grunted. 

Besteel sighed and rubbed his eyes. “No. I’m not angry. I’m just tired.” 

“Because of us?” 

Besteel snorted. “Yes. But I’m your sire. And you are eyasses. You’re supposed to make me tired. That means you’re healthy.” 

Venar looked down at the root again. “...And stupid.” 

“What you did was stupid, yes. But it didn’t make me angry- I was worried. Chimeras can be dangerous, even if they only eat small things, and your brothers were too big to be swallowed, it still could have suffocated them, or worse. That’s why I yelled at you.” 

“And we embarrassed you, too.” 

Besteel nodded. “Yes. By doing what you did, it looked as if I hadn’t taught you right; and clearly, that was true. If you don’t know better than to stay away from a chimera, then I really haven’t taught you anything.” 

“...So you were angry?” 

“Venar, no! Gabu-” he cursed lightly and dragged two talons down his face. He sighed. 

“...Yes, I was angry- at myself,” he said, in a calmer tone. “Because I failed you. As your sire, my duty is to watch over you, protect you, and teach you. Today, I saw that I taught you to hunt, but not to be mindful of Orbona’s dangers. I failed you, and then I was angry that I had failed you.” 

“And that’s why you yelled?” Venar asked. Besteel nodded. 

“Yes.” 

There was a pause. Venar had stopped playing with the root’s knots. “...But we’re still alive, aren’t we?” 

Besteel snorted. “Somehow, yes. Thank the goddess’ spirit for that.” 

Venar looked up at him. “Then that means you haven’t failed. And we’re only four. If we stay with you, we will stay alive, and you can teach us all about how dangerous Orbona is. So see? You’re a good father. The bestest.” 

The eyas crawled over and put one of his tiny talon’s over his father’s, patting it reassuringly. 

Besteel smiled. He then scooped the eyas up in the crook of one of his arms and tickled his belly. Venar squeaked, giggling and swatting at his father’s talon. Then Ocis, Vindex, and Little Redimus shot out of their hiding places, lunging at him with tiny battle cries. 

“Let him go, tickle monster!” 

“Who's going to make me?” Besteel retorted, playfully. He continued to tickle Venar's belly, and the eyas screeched with laughter. 

The other eyasses jumped on him. Besteel pretended to stumble back, as if they had actually managed to push him. They climbed, attempting to rescue their brother from such a grizzly fate; but Besteel wasn’t defeated just yet. His other talons reached up, tickling an eyas when they nabbed one.  

The boys giggled and shrieked, but still managed to climb up to his head. Besteel's eyes went wide, and he fell on his back in the moss. The eyasses crawled all over him, trying to tickle him with their little claws- Besteel’s fur was coarse, so it hadn't much affect, but he laughed anyway.

But it didn’t last long. They were all exhausted from the hunt today, and the traveling they had done. So eventually, one by one, they dropped off into sleep, all four boys curled up on their father's belly, the motions of Besteel's gentle breathing rocking them further into slumber.

[ladyanaconda]

While the circumstances are different, I think this song fits Redimus and his feelings toward Marakeen. Granted, Redimus' love for Marakeen wasn't controlling or obsessive, and he did get a happy ending with her.

Now that I think about it, Redimus and the Phantom have a few similarities: he, too, is an outcast (amongst his own people), the right side of his face is scarred (ANd his eye is electronic), and he feels that a beautiful maiden (Marakeen) brought light into his life.

Redimus would make lots of sketches of Marakeen after they first met. She'd find it cute when she found out, but he was quite embarrassed.

[ladyanaconda]

How would Besteel describe the feeling of Cassiora's lips?

Dorceans don't kiss with their mouth because they have long snouts. Their equivalent of a 'kiss' is touching or nuzzling their noses together.

But just for fun, he'd describe them as 'soft, and yet they always seem to want more of him'.

[ladyanaconda]

If Dorceans can feel the presence of their loved ones' spirits, is it the same for poachers? If they could feel a poacher's ghost's presence, what would it feel like and how do they deal with it?

Since WondLA is a Sci-Fi setting, the topic of ghosts and such is only folklore and doesn't get much focus, but I'm happy to explore this aspect of Dorcean lore!

When a Poacher dies of natural causes, (AKA not eaten by a predator), his comrades usually perform the traditional forest funerary rites and put his body to rest, if only to avoid his/her spirit. from coming back to bring misfortune on them. If a Hunter comes across the body, however, he'll burn it, denying the spirit rest as punishment for only taking from the Forest.

Particularly vicious and bloodthirsty animals that are very hard to kill and seem to target a particular person or village are often thought to be these evil spirits, who took physical form to wreak havoc and misfortune. The only thing people can do is try to 'put them out of their suffering'.

The cubs who don't make it to the first year of life are believed to become protector spirits who ward off disease and misfortune brought by said vengeful spirits.

Random trivia: legend says that Broken Tooth herself is the reincarnated spirit of a poacher who was infamous for both his cruelty and cunning.

[ladyanaconda]

I'm guessing Dorceans never use transportation while hunting. Are gliders and boomrods Dorcean inventions?

They do, actually. Hunting gliders are used to tranport themselves and the prey they catch over long distances. However, they're a high-maintenance vehicle that is expensive to keep, so only veteran hunters can afford them.

Then there's Zeph'ri and Venta'vir hunters, who use glidewings and longruns respectively. Using animal mounts has both ups and downs; they can be trained to aid and protect their masters in hunting, but the distance they can cover carrying or transporting prey is more limited, especially for longruns.

According to the books, the hunting gliders and boomrods were, indeed, created by Dorceans.

[ladyanaconda]

Dorcean Headcanon: Glidewings

Flying, avian-like wyverns native to Dorca, the Dorcean homeworld. The Zeph’ri tribe has tamed and used them long before the gliders were invented. 

Depending on the personality, glidewings might be picky about the type of meat they like. Some might like fatty meat, while another prefers lean meat.

Glidewings are extremely territorial and will attack anything they perceive as a threat. An entire flock can bring down one warbot, as Cadmus Pryde learned the hard way.

The glidewing is at the center of the Zeph’ri tribe’s culture. Cubs play with glidewing toys to help them familiarize with the prospect of taming and flying with the glidewing.

There’s little color variation amongst glidewings, so telling them apart can be a hard task, even for other Dorceans. Zeph’ri Dorceans, however, will easily identify their own glidewing amongst all others, and vice versa. 

New riders craft their glidewing’s saddle themselves when they’re big enough to be ridden. They’ll also make a special harness to attach themselves to the saddle and avoid falling off. 

To become a glidewing rider, Dorceans above 13 years old must take part in a rite of passage known as Tuk’ara: they’re sent into the glidewing rookery, where they will  take one egg from a nest without alerting the mother, and take care of it. However, not all eggs hatch. 

Because they’re raised in captivity, glidewings who lose their riders can’t be released back into the wild—at least, not fully. While they roam freely, they always return to their nest at night or at feeding time. These glidewings can be claimed by Dorceans who wish to become riders, but it’s a risky move, as the creature might attack and even kill them.

According to experienced riders, the key to training glidewings is to keep them well-fed.

Glidewings will show affection and trust toward their riders, sometimes even nuzzling them. However, they’re very aggressive to anyone else, other Dorceans included. Depending on the personality, they might tolerate strangers, or outright attack them if they come too close. The only instance in which they accept other people on their backs is if their rider is already on the saddle. 

Much like longruns, Eva cannot seem to communicate with glidewings. 

• Fully-grown specimens can lift three times their weight.

And yes, this one is also inspired on a creature from Monster Hunter: the legiana.

[ladyanaconda]

WIP

But basically, this is their family dynamic. I’ll give more details when it’s done

[ladyanaconda]

Dorcean Headcanon: An'rak Tribe

Besteel and Redimus’s birth tribe. Their village, Tergaron, is the closest to the heart of the forest, and as such they act as its protectors from outside threats.

This tribe frequently encounters dangerous creatures, and most of its members are hunters.

This tribe originated from Dorca, and boarded the Ark during the Great Migration. As such, their totem animal, the vipanther, is endemic from the Dorcean homeworld.

It’s the biggest and most prominent of the Forest tribes.

This tribe is renowned for producing the best hunters amongst the forest Dorceans—such as Vamphyr and Besteel.

Besteel’s achievement of killing a fully grown Vipanther at fourteen years old has received high praise. A few songs have even been written about him. His retirement after his Cassiora's death disappointed many, but his stories and songs are still sung and narrated.

All members learn the basics of tracking, making traps, and tanning skins, regardless of whether they take part in the First Hunt to become fully fledged hunters or not. 

Their chieftain, Vornak, is a respected warrior and veteran hunter, as well as an old friend of Besteel's. His pregnant wife, Engana, went missing AKA captured by humans and he’s been looking for her ever since. Thankfully, Eva and the gang saved her when they were in New Attica.  

Eventually, a mortally wounded Vornak appointed Besteel as his successor, making him the new chieftain of the An’rak tribe. Besteel decided to take care of Engana and her children, but he never claimed her as his own.

They’re one of the main suppliers of Dorcean leather. 

Shortly after the Great Migration, King Ojo entrusted them with protecting the Heart of the Forest, a task the tribe fulfills with great zeal. Aware of this, Cadmus programmed some warbots to crash into Tergaron before his attempt at stealing the Heart to keep them from interfering.

Like all forest tribes, they keep records of hunting seasons for determined animal species to avoid overhunting. Hunting out of season is punishable by being banned from hunting for a determined amount of time, or even being marked a poacher and banishment from the tribe.

[ladyanaconda]

Random Wondla headcanon: if a Caerulean wishes to follow a different ‘life path’, AKA move away, he will only do so if he has the blessing of his clan. They throw a farewell celebration and see him off. But even after moving away, the Caerulean will return to their village for important occasions, to help in a time of need, or simply to visit. 

[ladyanaconda]

Random Dorcean Headcanon:

To a dorcean, the validity of one's word is currency- especially in a social sense, and at times in their barter and trade economic system, almost literal. An oathbreaker is one of the worst things you can be to a Dorcean, and breaking one's word can be punished with banishment and even death (depending on the solemnity of the promise made, and what was promised).

[ladyanaconda]

When you wrote the Redimus-Marakeen romance, were you using the Avatar movies - particularly The Way of Water?

As a matter of fact, much of the Sea Dorcean's and a bit of their culture architecture had a big inspo from the Metkayina in Way of the Water. I also got inspired by polynesian and hawaiian peoples.

Redimus and Marakeen's romance was my own idea, though.

[ladyanaconda]

Are fire Dorceans immune to flames or do they just go into combat using fire as a weapon?

What do you mean fire dorceans? 🫤

[ladyanaconda]

You headcanon that any particular Orbona race holds a majority population on certain Earth continents? Do races like the Arsians, Cæruleans, Halcyonus, Mirthians, and Dorceans individually make up the largest percentage of a continent's population, whether it's in North America, South America, Asia, Europe, Africa, Australia, or Antarctica?

Well, honestly, I'd say it depends on the environment and biome, and the adaptations made by the Vitae Virus. Each alien species would flock to the areas that closely resemble their homeworld's original environment and which suits their culture and way of life. Eg. Aquatic species whose homeworlds consisted mostly of oceans would build their new cities in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Aliens who come from desertic planets would settle in places such as the Sahara, the Arabian peninsula, etc. And so on.

And let's not forget those species you mentioned aren't the only ones that came on the Ark, just the ones the narrative focuses on the most. But in the books, it's confirmed that there's hundreds of different alien species now inhabiting Orbona.