The Schnoz Flaunter
Said a smelf to a horc in a fray
Your feet have a rancid bouquet
Your armpits are rank
Even without your stank
I could smell you from twelve yorts away
The Low Down
Smelves, enormously beschnozzed little guys, came to Oith from the realm of Middle Oith during the Time of the Flush, fleeing the tyranny of their brutal horcish adversaries. This proved to be a bad decision, since the horcs just followed them, but it’s over and they’re both here now.
The average smelf is a short, slender, green skinned fellow (or fellete) with a gigantically disproportionate honker. Smelves are extremely proud of their prodigious proboscises, often polishing them with earwax and scented oils and adorning them with tattoos and jewelry. Not only is a smelf’s nose the decorative focal point of her countenance, it’s also the source of many of her special talents.
Not surprisingly, smelves have a very powerful sense of smell. They’re more attuned to the smellements, those noxious and beauteous Fundamental odors and fragrances of the universe, than are most other peeps. This fact, combined with their sensitive and clever nature, makes smelves supremely adapted to the art of smellcasting. Many of history’s greatest smellcasters are smelves. In fact, the Garden of Smellemental Glee on Keister Island, one of Oith’s greatest hubs of Smellemental exploration, is peopled largely by smelves.
Some smelves have developed their nasal acumen yet further, practicing the rare and dangerous snazz known as nosebloating. By inhaling a great gust of air through his nostrils, a nosebloating smelf is able to slowly levitate, rising upward at the mercy of the wind. Of course a smelf can only nosebloat for as long as he can hold his breath, but that’s usually enough time to scoot his little wazoo away from whatever horc is tormenting him.
Smelves, despite their small size, can be pretty scrappy. Usually peaceful by nature, if someone pisses them off (or pisses them on) they’ll get busy in a hurry. Unless you’re a horc or some other evildoer it’s unlikely you’ll ever be on the receiving end of a smelven smackdown, but they can get quite fierce. Smelves tend to be well organized and intuitive scrappers, working together to take down tougher foes. Resourceful and inventive, smelves use their various abilities to great advantage, often nosebloating out of reach and raining mayhem upon their enemies in the form of slingshot stones and hurled reeks.
There are a great many smellcasters among the smelven population, some of whom are quite powerful. Their reeks are the stuff of legend. Woe unto the horcish ruffian who wedgies the wrong smelf.
Getting Along With Others
Smelves sincerely believe in the goodness of most peeps. They tend to get along fine with just about everyone who isn’t a horc. They’re used to the occasional jibe or jeer directed at their bulbous schnozzes and diminutive stature, both of which they regard as points of personal pride. Big nose plus small body equals sexy smelf, if you do your math correctly.
While forgiving the occasional heckle, smelves detest bullies and do their best to avoid them. Horcs, whom they generally despise, will only be tolerated if they aren’t being all horcy.
Conventional smelven nomenclature smacks smelves with some pretty silly names. They really dig alliteration and the word smelf, which is kind of the universal cognomen for just about every smelf out there. Additionally, many smelves include the name of their clan or some other family descriptor when introducing themselves. Witness such epic personalities as Smerkle of the Longnostril Ilk, Sunny Hindquarters, Smuggly Smelf, Sugarface Smelf, Sologostro of the Seven Stranded Salad Tongs, and Gorminee the Goosed. Other smelves, particularly the lazy ones, just slap themselves with some kind of descriptor and the word smelf: Pimple Smelf, Nabmaster Smelf, Lackadaisical Smelf, Unimaginative Smelf, and so forth.