I have to leave town Thursday morning and I’ll be away from my computer until Sunday night. So, in the interest of maintaining domestic tranquility and in the hopes that the Oithlings will work extra hard to spread the word about the Kickstarter while I’m away, have some cremefillians…
A cremefillian brute made a killing
When he proved he was perfectly willing
To hunt down his foes
As well as his bros
And splatter the walls with crème filling
The Low Down
In any conversation regarding which of Oith’s denizens is the most bizarre, the strange and spongy cremefillian invariably takes the cake (hah!). Sure, everyone on Oith has their own bit of wonkiness, but what could compare to a giant talking pastry with a serrated spatula and a vendetta? Nothing, that’s what.
Cremefillians belong to a group of organisms that includes such creatures as odres and slogs. Although various cremefillian types exist, the most common are the yellowish, vaguely cylindrical guys occasionally known as tweenks. Like slogs, their flesh is a soggy, crusty, cake-like material, more sponge than skin. In place of blood a thick, white, cloyingly sweet substance flows within them. With long skinny arms and flat, disgruntled faces, they’re what most peeps outside the Dingdom of the Dong picture when somebody says cremefillian.
Cremefillians are a storied people, with a sad yet triumphant history. According to legend, and essentially confirmed by the unoithings and explorations of oldsters and wisenheimers over the ages, the roots of the cremefillian race began Back in the Day, when the preeminent Hoomanrace ruled the glob. In those days, the primordial cremefillians were much smaller —tiny little fellows created in Hoomanracian laboratories to satisfy the nutritive urges of the populace. Bound in shrouds of transparent hoomanracium and imprisoned in colorful paper tombs, these helpless and presumably terrified ancestral tweenks were devoured in droves. It’s unclear why the characteristically peaceful and nurturing Hoomanrace would act with such nefarious apathy toward a newly birthed species of its own creation. Maybe the Hoomanracians were unconscious of the nascent intellect burgeoning within their cupboards. It’s possible, but unlikely when one considers that the very prisons themselves were adorned with smiling images of the unfortunates trapped within. Perhaps the rancid seeds of hatred and callousness that would usher in the Time of the Flush were already being sown. Cremefillian holy rollers, particularly those of the Jemimah’s Witness faith, insist this is true, pointing to execrated relics depicting such ancient Hoomanracian villains as Jemimah the Hostess of Hate and “Little” Debbie joyfully devouring their helpless predecessors.
Things changed during the Time of the Flush. Those various cosmic, gawdly, nukular, and pestilent cataclysms that wreaked such havoc across the glob also delivered unto the early cremefillians their salvation. Through whatever combination of Fundamental gumptions, the cremefillians grew larger and more determined, eventually escaping their bonds and raining vengeance up on their weakened Hoomanracian captors. Much blood and much partially hydrogenated animal and/or vegetable shortening was shed. The Ding’s libraries in Toast hold countless tomes describing the various triumphs, heroes, and exploits of this age (although wisenheimers question the veracity of most of them). Of course, a great many cremefillians perished during the proceeding eons of apocalypse, but enough survived to carry the species into the modern day.
Cremefillians tend to be pretty feisty scrappers. They aren’t big fans of guff and don’t generally take it from other peeps. When poop goes down (as it often does), cremefillians tend to favor weapons and circumstances that take advantage of their long arms and unique morphology. They often fight well in teams, usually back to back and taunting their foes with epithets and your momma jokes.
A cremefillian’s spongy hide absorbs all sorts of filth and pestilence over the course of its lifetime. This makes it unpalatable to all but the most desperate or ageusic of predators. Conversely, various venoms and poisons that would croakify most other peeps have little or no effect on cremefillians (although there are certain toxins that’ll lay them flat). Thankfully, this quirk of physiology doesn’t apply to suds. Tweenks can get snockered on grog just like anybody else (and they tend to do so perhaps a bit more often than is healthy).
Getting Along With Others
Tweenks are a proud and resilient people. As such, they can be quick to anger and cling to grudges like other peeps hoard clams. It doesn’t always come to blows, but a cremefillian isn’t above throwing a few rude gestures and a shouted malediction or two at anyone he doesn’t like. The usual victims of their blustering tirades are boduls and Hoomanitarians, for obvious reasons, but just about anybody can set one off.
Crime, both organized and disorganized, is a way of life to many cremefillians. There’s an abiding tradition, in many parts of the world, of cremefillian thuggery and gangstahood. Obviously, not every tweenk is an iniquitous villain, it’s just that those who are tend to be proud of the fact. Such infamous peeps as Fat Sushi (Dongfather of Toast), Nabmaster Hung, Chiz Chiz the Chop, Voluminous Gweep (Dingpin of Broken Toe), and the Floomian assassin known alternately as “The Cleaner” and “The Cavity Searcher” are notable examples.
One crime a cremefillian would never commit is that of enslaving another cremefillian. Certainly it’s all fine and dandy to subjugate other peeps, but, for historical reasons, such a thing is abhorrent to cremefillian sensibilities.
Tweenk names tend to be a bit on the childish side, some sort of cutesy-wutesy repetitive babble that, according to wisenheimers has deep historical value, reminiscent, as it is, of the names scribbled on their prisons Back in the Day. Dong Dong, Wee Wee, Wee Dong, Lung Dong, Dung Lung, etc… When a cremefillian reaches a certain age he goes through a rite of passage, the details of which vary by religion and geography, after which he adopts a new moniker for himself. Names of this sort tend to be a bit on the arrogant side, chosen to make the bearer sound like a bad ass, although that’s not always true. Witness such peeps as Crandel Creampuff Crusher of Crania, Hater Wig Wig, Dung Dong the Fister, and Barence Thrice-plumbed. Other well-known cremefillians include famed contanimator Uuulon Crepulos, legendary scrapper Glutenous Maximus, and Horus Morus, the Ding of the Dong.