DOD Races: Myrmidon

Common Name: Myrmidon (Beast rider, Myrmie, Traitor, Kaiju lover, Horned Horde)
Pronounced: (Mrr-meh-don)
Classification: Homo sapiens sapiens / Infernuceratops polyonax (Diaborus)
SGOC Rank: Megafauna

Length: 9 feet
Height: 7 feet
Weight: 400 lbs.
Diet: Omnivore
Social Structure: Solitary, Troop (5-60+ members)
Home Planet: Earth
Distribution: Worldwide
Population Size: Unknown
IUCN Status: N/A

Description:

Myrmidons were the creations of Diaborus, a powerful psionic kaiju who sought to create a paradise for his kind by making The Cycle permanent. Using dozens of atom bogs he created millions of these creatures to be his army, and in the world war that followed he would have won if not for the combined efforts of humanity, other kaiju, and the Tyloban Empire. Now, after Diaborus’ death and the end of the Titanomachy, some myrmidons still remain in the remote reaches of post-Cycle Earth.


Biology:

As they were once human themselves, myrmidons fall distinctly into the uncanny valley. At seven feet in height they are larger than humans and more lean as well, reflecting their feral tendencies. Their skin is covered in small scales, quills, and stubborn spots of hair that resisted the atom bog’s transformative properties. They have flexible quilled tails that just barely reach the ground, balancing the tall beings and giving them a potent weapon in close quarters; myrmidons cannot walk quite as upright as humans because of their tails. They only have four toes on each digitigrade foot, but these (as well as the five fingers) sport sharp black claws that must be kept trimmed to stay useful. Both genders look similar, though males are usually a bit more heavily built. All of their inhuman traits can be traced back to those of Diaborus, who used his own blood to influence their transformation.

From the front a myrmidon’s face bears a passing resemblance to a scaly human, but as soon as it turns the muzzle becomes evident, longer and more baboon- or gorilla-like than anything else. The stiff brow and enlarged cranium anchor powerful jaw muscles, while the canines have grown long and knife-like; the incisors are absent from both jaws, replaced by plates of notched jawbone that resemble the rows of teeth they replaced. The cheekbones are pronounced and tipped with a small horn the size of a thumbnail, betraying a ceratopsian influence, while the cranium is slightly flattened. The eye sockets are bigger and rounder than a human’s, giving their gaze a creepy spotlight-like quality. The eyes themselves have a black sclera and even blacker iris. Myrmidons blink infrequently.


Culture:

Myrmidons are thin on culture. The ones who survived the Titanomachy quickly came together in primitive communities called troops, raiding and pillaging to survive. They retained the callous viciousness that made them deadly in the great war, pitting their skills against anything that poses their troop a challenge. Thankfully most troops ran out of guns and ammo a long time ago (after stealing them all throughout the Titanomachy) and have resorted to using their own teeth and claws, crudely built weapons, and whatever they can scavenge.

Outside of combat myrmidons are nomadic raiders. Their settlements are crude and slapdash in design, a result of them calling nowhere home for very long. From there they hunt for food and seek regional power, attacking humans and Skrag with little provocation. When game is rare they will steal crops and livestock, and when those are too well-guarded they’ve been known to hunt the farmers and ranchers themselves. Any myrmidon who can provide adequate plunder is treated like a hero, while those that can’t are given demeaning tasks and sometimes beaten by those higher on the totem pole.

While myrmidons do have a sense of “racial” identity, they are ruthless and ultimately self-serving creatures, constantly jockeying for position and exploiting one another for personal gain. They can be very competitive, sometimes dangerously so, and will go to great lengths to assert themselves over potential rivals. Troop leaders are often paranoid (and for good reason) and may start seeing betrayal and mutiny around every corner. Troops are short-lived and often self-detrimental because of this; they usually do themselves in by making bad decisions or picking a fight with a far stronger enemy. This sort of behavior cuts their already brutal lives short, so in response myrmidons have developed a sort of martyrdom culture, where individuals seek to be remembered in glory by their peers. They seek out means of creating spectacle and will sometimes sacrifice practicality if they think the alternative will earn them a remembered place in the troop.

Myrmidons have an uncanny affinity with wild animals. Troops always have at least a few pets roaming about, feeding on their leftovers, but the race’s talents come into their own only in combat. Unlike Skrag and (most) humans, myrmidons take advantage of animals as war mounts, riding anything from horses and buffalo to dinosaurs and juvenile SGOs into battle. Beating the desired beasts into submission, they augment their mounts with crude weapons and armor fashioned from bone, metal, and wood, strapping the whole mess together with rope, hooks, and sturdy vines. They themselves wear scraps of clothing and trophies accumulated in their day-to-day hunts and conflicts.

It should be noted that myrmidons no longer use human names; whether this was a conscious decision or the result of them losing their memory is uncertain. Most can still speak their human-native language. Myrmidons are usually named by their fellows after a distinguishing feature or a task they are good at.


Beliefs:

Myrmidons do not have any established religious beliefs, but they all feel a deep and indescribable awe for Diaborus, their deceased leader and creator. Whether this awe stems from respect or fear varies between individuals. Even though it’s been only a year or so since Diaborus’ death they treat it as if it happened centuries ago, purposefully muddling facts to portray their leader as an illustrious god-king that would have led them to paradise…if only those treacherous humans hadn’t gotten in the way.

Most myrmidons live in the now, doing what they must to get from one day to the next. A particularly vocal minority still seeks to complete Diaborus’ grand plan for the future, but, seeing as he did not share his plan with them, most myrmidons view this as heresy; without Diaborus to guide them, how could they be sure they were doing it right?

Though they were themselves human not too long ago, the myrmidons’ psychology has been so warped by Diaborus’ influence that they see themselves as kaiju trapped in frail human shells. They despise humanity for denying them their right to seek paradise. They hate each and every one of us, and if they could…they’d start the Titanomachy all over again.