Yidhra
Mars Tsosûtiyakûtiyuska
OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION
GENERAL INFORMATION
Name: Sheoggoth
Designation: Semi-sentient (very very very rarely Sentient)
Homeworld: Technically none, as they are alchemized creations crafted through Sith sorcery. They reside on the planets Athiss and Raekkar.
Language: Broken High Sith/Sith
Average Lifespan: Long. Technically unlimited, though unconfirmed as of yet.
Estimated Population: Rare
Description: Amorphous blobs of shapeless evil. It’s like that nightmare you had as a kid, where your play-doh, forgotten and gathering dust beneath the bed, came alive to haunt you. Oh, and now it has teeth. And eyes. Lots and lots of ‘em.
Breathes: Type I through III
Average height of adults: Varies, since they can redistribute their mass and even combine with others. Usually around 3m for a single organism.
Average length of adults: Varies, since they can redistribute their mass and even combine with others. Usually around 5m for a single organism.
Skin color: The Rainbow of Putrefaction
Hair color: /
Distinctions: Individual organisms can merge or split with each other, forming larger masses with more ‘minds’. Certain such amalgams can achieve sentience, but they are exceedingly rare and still considerably dumber than the average sentient. The older they get, the more organisms combine with each other, resulting in whole chambers effectively crammed full by a single Sheoggoth.
Races: /
Strengths: Amorphous, Alchemized, Fearless
Weaknesses: Amorphous, Dumb, Slow
Diet: People, animals, garbage. Basically anything that’s seen a calory at some point in the food chain.
Communication: Emphatic amongst each other, broken High Sith/Sith with Purebloods.
Technology level: A troglodyte would laugh in superiority.
Religion/Beliefs: Hurr durr. The sentient kind, however, worship the Dark side and its direct descendants, the Purebloods. (Thanks, propaganda!) Yidhra has shamelessly elevated herself to goddess status among her creations.
General behavior: Omnomnom. They spend most of their time eating or sleeping. When they’re not doing either of those things, the Sheoggoth are engaged in violent and disturbing asexual reproduction.
Yidhra’s crafty ancestors had first considered the Sheoggoth for a simple, yet prevalent reason. Betrayal.
Purebloods were as likely to offer you wine as they were poison, often in the same cup. Even millennia-trained, bred, and brainwashed Massassi guardians are susceptible to bribery and persuasion. That is the inherent failing of intelligent creatures.
From this, a clear solution presented itself on a silver platter. The Dottash took it.
They began experimenting upon the lesser beings prowling the inhospitable lands of Athiss. Fish, birds, lizards… snails.
Well, to be perfectly anal, they were slugs.
They were also failures. None of her ancestors possessed the breadth of knowledge and magical talent with the Dark side to engineer such a creature. None, until Yidhra came along.
Okay so maybe it wasn’t quite that hopeless without her, but history is written by the victors and the literate. Yidhra had murdered her siblings long ago, and her parents just a bit less ago. The fabled libraries of House Dottash were at her full and unadulterated disposal. Censure is not merely expected – it is practically a requirement of any new scion rising to the helm of their dynasty.
Yidhra didn’t find it at all morally reprehensible or ethically questionable to edit the records. Everyone else did it, so why shouldn’t she? Besides, she really was that good. If she made enough of a fuss around it, the future Dottash generations might not even defile her tomb for fear of her creations.
And she much prefer it if her tomb remained undefiled for the centuries to come.
BUT. Thinking ahead. And besides, the document containing her notes and experiments upon the Sheoggoth – or rather, their rudimentary beginnings – would not contain any of these inner musings in its final state. It would be plain, clinical, and to the point.
It would also reveal no information whatsoever to help the future generations replicate her successes. Because feth you, that’s why. If she could learn it through trial and error and blood loss, so could they.
Therefore, the entry one might uncover tucked away in some journal, gathering dust upon the vast shelves of the Dottash library, would read such:
Shasona ir Athiss. Sûrajia iw Yidhra Dottash.
Kizûtai tutkiwar adata. Kûtji.
