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Daemons are ubiquitous across most of the planet. If it's sentient and not a human, asandus or caetran, it's a daemon.
At first glance, it's hard to believe any given two daemons are of the same species. There are as many varieties of daemon as there are individual daemons themselves -- and in fact it's that intense variation that unifies them. Daemons as a whole share a few very important traits: they have very flexible, resilient genomes that can be changed by other daemons while in the womb; they parse patterns as easily as breathing; and they can see, manipulate, and in fact eat magic.
The instinctive daemon ability to parse and replicate patterns manifests in a number of different ways, particularly depending on the daemon.
It means that generally, they complete repetitive tasks or tasks involving a deep understanding of patterns -- such as music, or mathematics -- with great ease. A daemon-specific example of this is in the genetics-altering ability mentioned above. It's a skill most often employed by daemon parents planning their families, or daemons who have specifically made these kinds of genetic alterations into a career. While most daemons find it easier to parse and modify genetics similar to their own -- in most cases their own offspring -- these gene artisans tend to have a much wider range.
Another way is in their ability to culturally adapt. It goes without saying that on Avengaea, most cities that profess to belong to one species or another are actually blended cities: daemons are ubiquitous. It tends to take daemons only one or two generations to fit into a place like they've been in it forever, both physically and, truthfully, in terms of their psychology. Daemons are very mutable.
However, these pattern abilities come with a cost. Where daemons are skilled at repetitive behaviour, they are also susceptible to compulsive, neurotic behaviours, as well as certain kinds of addictions. Managed behavioural tics are common and not seen as unusual, but most daemons are taught early not to get caught up in obsessive cycles or thought patterns. This extends to strong patterns of emotion, including obsessive varieties of love and hate: for example, while daemons do love their families and form strong, loving friendship bonds, the pattern of emotion known as limerence or infatuation is seen as a dangerous condition that should be avoided because of the possible addictive repercussions. Daemons have a well-earned reputation for not being particular romantics, but they also tend not to be prone to the kind of hatred that tends to cause strife between Avengaea's other sentient species.
While daemons speak the common tongues of the lands they live in, and tend to pick up new languages very easily, they also have a secondary tongue that finds sparse use. This is relegated mostly to traditional greetings, which all polite daemons take part in when meeting a new face or an old acquaintance they haven't seen in quite a while. It's an information-dense language with a curious syntax that does not map to any other language on Avengaea: in fact, even most daemons don't know how to speak it specifically, outside of traditional greetings.
In fact this "language" is hardwired into daemon brains, and relates to their pattern-sensitivity. It is a way of quickly imparting a lot of information: for example, the "traditional greeting" is something that almost all daemons do automatically and without thought, and is a way of introducing oneself and offering a dense package of information about one's nature and origin. This information is understood but not consciously parsed in most cases, and becomes part of the background noise of daemon existence.
There are very few daemons who actively study this language and understand it for what it is, and even fewer that can manipulate it to send covert messages or instructions through natural daemon channels, usually to others who are in the know.
Daemons shape themselves to their surroundings and circumstances. Anywhere where life can exist beyond microorganisms, daemons have a chance to thrive, if they play their cards right.
This can sometimes get quite extreme, particularly in places where daemons have a difficult time surviving or are considered second-class citizens, where they will tend to attempt to make themselves indispensable rather than independent.
In places where they are less reliant on the goodwill of other creatures, however, they will generalize more. Many of the daemons who choose to do this are separatists.
In shared cities where daemons are less relegated to the margins, however, lineages will sometimes try to balance the idea of generalization with that of specialization, forming specific partnerships and creating their own roles.
At first glance, it's hard to believe any given two daemons are of the same species. There are as many varieties of daemon as there are individual daemons themselves -- and in fact it's that intense variation that unifies them. Daemons as a whole share a few very important traits: they have very flexible, resilient genomes that can be changed by other daemons while in the womb; they parse patterns as easily as breathing; and they can see, manipulate, and in fact eat magic.
The instinctive daemon ability to parse and replicate patterns manifests in a number of different ways, particularly depending on the daemon.
It means that generally, they complete repetitive tasks or tasks involving a deep understanding of patterns -- such as music, or mathematics -- with great ease. A daemon-specific example of this is in the genetics-altering ability mentioned above. It's a skill most often employed by daemon parents planning their families, or daemons who have specifically made these kinds of genetic alterations into a career. While most daemons find it easier to parse and modify genetics similar to their own -- in most cases their own offspring -- these gene artisans tend to have a much wider range.
Another way is in their ability to culturally adapt. It goes without saying that on Avengaea, most cities that profess to belong to one species or another are actually blended cities: daemons are ubiquitous. It tends to take daemons only one or two generations to fit into a place like they've been in it forever, both physically and, truthfully, in terms of their psychology. Daemons are very mutable.
However, these pattern abilities come with a cost. Where daemons are skilled at repetitive behaviour, they are also susceptible to compulsive, neurotic behaviours, as well as certain kinds of addictions. Managed behavioural tics are common and not seen as unusual, but most daemons are taught early not to get caught up in obsessive cycles or thought patterns. This extends to strong patterns of emotion, including obsessive varieties of love and hate: for example, while daemons do love their families and form strong, loving friendship bonds, the pattern of emotion known as limerence or infatuation is seen as a dangerous condition that should be avoided because of the possible addictive repercussions. Daemons have a well-earned reputation for not being particular romantics, but they also tend not to be prone to the kind of hatred that tends to cause strife between Avengaea's other sentient species.
DAEMON LANGUAGE
While daemons speak the common tongues of the lands they live in, and tend to pick up new languages very easily, they also have a secondary tongue that finds sparse use. This is relegated mostly to traditional greetings, which all polite daemons take part in when meeting a new face or an old acquaintance they haven't seen in quite a while. It's an information-dense language with a curious syntax that does not map to any other language on Avengaea: in fact, even most daemons don't know how to speak it specifically, outside of traditional greetings.
In fact this "language" is hardwired into daemon brains, and relates to their pattern-sensitivity. It is a way of quickly imparting a lot of information: for example, the "traditional greeting" is something that almost all daemons do automatically and without thought, and is a way of introducing oneself and offering a dense package of information about one's nature and origin. This information is understood but not consciously parsed in most cases, and becomes part of the background noise of daemon existence.
There are very few daemons who actively study this language and understand it for what it is, and even fewer that can manipulate it to send covert messages or instructions through natural daemon channels, usually to others who are in the know.
DAEMON EXAMPLES
Daemons shape themselves to their surroundings and circumstances. Anywhere where life can exist beyond microorganisms, daemons have a chance to thrive, if they play their cards right.
This can sometimes get quite extreme, particularly in places where daemons have a difficult time surviving or are considered second-class citizens, where they will tend to attempt to make themselves indispensable rather than independent.
Example 1: Bellows Daemons
Any settlement needs a forge, and every good forge needs a bellows. Bellows daemons have been a fairly steady lineage for hundreds of years, with new variations or specializations popping up every now and then, following technological improvements.
They are small-bodied, huge-lunged, with long, tubelike beaks of a heat-resistant chitin. They have branching trachea and secondary mouths tucked away hidden along their feathery necks, and can speak as well as continue to breathe in a steady rhythm, as well as circular-breathe if they need to. Otherwise their bodies are small and two-limbed, with short stumpy tails. Most of them choose to be feathery, and extrude a coating for their feathers that is singe- and heat-resistant. They resemble nothing more than bulbous little fuzzballs -- or not so little depending on the size of the forge.
In places where they are less reliant on the goodwill of other creatures, however, they will generalize more. Many of the daemons who choose to do this are separatists.
Example 2: Crawler Daemons
On the north edge of the Erysan desert, there's an area of the badlands riddled with canyons and caverns, dry areas that are hot and inhospitable for most of the year. Crawlers are lithe, scaled, long-bodied, six-limbed daemons with toes meant for grasping and sneaking into the most meagre of handholds. Most of the clans out in the desert are hivelike organizations, with a few breeding adults and hordes of adult morphs with different specializations. Many of the clan members hibernate throughout lean seasons and come active when there's enough plantlife and wildlife to harvest and store, or rouse when there are magical creatures in the area. They are often hostile to outsiders and very insular, but will work with other daemon clans when resources become particularly scarce.
In shared cities where daemons are less relegated to the margins, however, lineages will sometimes try to balance the idea of generalization with that of specialization, forming specific partnerships and creating their own roles.
Example 3: Rider Daemons
A lineage that stretches back to the founding of the city, the Riders of Fensirt have worked alongside humans as partners for hundreds of years. They are big, sparsely furred, four-limbed runners with paws built for running on sand, heavy, blocklike heads and a tradition of being shades of blue and cream. They are engineered for extreme endurance running and carrying loads, and specifically to have a psychology similar enough to humans' that partnerships come naturally to them. In a peculiar tradition, they traditionally lack thumbs but have long, flowing manes that require a great deal of upkeep not to get matted; to Riders, this is a symbolic concession to the fact that they rely on their humans, and that their humans rely on them.
Paired Riders have traditionally been the defenders and scouts for the city. Unpaired Riders will tend to crop their hair short, and work in the city as haulers, couriers or taxis.
