The Cookie Ettins are a breed idea concieved by Ashley Harman while he was at Creature Labs. Unfortunately they could not be created before Creature Labs shut down, but the idea was developed further by Officer 1BDI, who wrote a story (backup) to link in with the Docking Station Story, and accompanied it with an illustration. DarkBurraki began to develop the Cookie Ettins as a breed in 2005, but the status of the project remains unknown as of January 2006.
Male Cookie Ettins are said to be generally light-coloured with dark brown patches, while the females are dark brown with light patches.
- GreenReaper: Anyone want to actually make these? They look delicious . . .
The Cookie Ettin Story
by Officer 1BDI
Stars are funny balls of matter. They seem so insignificant, yet they have the ability to begin life; allowing it to sprout from a single seed and continue on until the death of those very same life-giving masses force it to collapse. On the contrary, stars make one seem insignificant to them.
The Lone Shee hated stars. Back on Albia, he would watch them streak across the sky, sometimes a dozen in a single night, and the realization that the universe was a vast and mysterious place would hit him. The fears of this unknown space and what it contained would overwhelm him until he entered the communal labs, where the scientific discussion was limited to the latest Norn genome and the laziness of the Ettin chefs. Being surrounded by his negligent comrades would force him to forget these fears until the next time he wandered out at night.
He didn't have any Shee to help him forget now, though, and he was very afraid as a result. He had never admitted this to anyone before (and even now, he had a rather hard time facing the fact himself), but the cosmos scared him. His previous encounters with the strange new Grendels and the tortured Norns had only heightened his anxieties; were there more dangers inhibiting this universe than he had previously been led to believe? The Lone Shee was now constantly wishing that his search for his fellow Shee would end soon.
On this night, the Lone Shee was staring out the window above his cot. His private room had been designed as a hidden chamber blocking out any curious creatures, and an unintentional result was that it was rather cramped. The lack of space meant a lack of interesting objects to observe, so he was forced to keep his attention on the little window. The stars slowly drifted across the transparent skin of the ship, and a pang of dread struck him, as he knew it would eventually. He rolled onto his side to try and escape the display, but the feeling just built up.
Finally, he sat up abruptly and removed his portal device. If he couldn't escape the truth in his cabin, he might be able to evade it with the Warp. Who knew: he might find an even more interesting breed of Norn this time. He threw some extra food and tools into his knapsack (as previous experiences with the Siamese and Magma Norns had taught him to do) and activated the Warp. He couldn't help but notice, as he stepped through the bright flowing plasma, that it felt colder than before.
Indeed, the Warp was acting rather strange. Instead of placing him nicely on steady, firm ground, the Lone Shee was thrown onto a muddy hill slope, which he proceeded to roll down until a patch of boulder broke his fall. Brushing himself off, the rather humiliated, bruised and mud-coated Shee glanced around warily. This appeared to be a planet, for there were no ship walls to contain him, but the earth seemed engulfed by various weeds and dangerous flora. The sky was clouded by a murky yellow fog, and the sun barely penetrated through the mass of it. It was a swamp world, and the Lone Shee knew this voyage wouldn't be his most pleasant one.
Sharing the bottom of the slope with him was a strange structure, made up of rocks and a twisted type of wood. Carved all along the base of the structure were various symbols and letters that the Lone Shee recognized; were they in his own language? For the first time in many months, he felt relief. Perhaps this building would help him find his own race once more.
It was very large and appeared to be a building of some importance, yet the only entrance he could find was a single wooden door. This seemed very out of the ordinary, especially for a species that prided itself on detail and exuberance. Curiosity got the best of the Lone Shee, and he found himself wandering through the door. Upon entering the room, he was hit with a blast of warm air. The room was dimly lit; he could hear clanking metal and bubbling liquids, but the lack of light at first made it hard to see what the sources of these mysterious sounds were. However, he did recognize the impressive stench as soon as it reached him, and the realization that it was decomposing flesh almost forced him from the area. He forced himself to stay in the door's shadow, despite his sickness, and waited impatiently for his eyesight to adjust.
It appeared to be a kitchen of some sort. The stoves and ovens had been built low enough to accommodate the strange brown creatures that were operating them. Various pots and pans were cluttering the sinks, many which had suspicious red stains marking their exterior. Sitting on a cabinet in front of the metallic row of stoves and ovens were bowls upon bowls of Norn eggs. And hidden in the corner, in a steel cage similar to those that had trapped the Siamese Norns, was a group of a different breed of Norn. They all appeared very still.
The Lone Shee had stumbled into the back kitchen of some sentient species' perverted restaurant.
Suppressing the urge to become very sick, the Shee slowly approached one of the cooks laboring over a boiling pot. He could see that he, like his companions, were chained to the base of the appliances they toiled over. Crouching down so he could see eye-to-eye with the creature, the Lone Shee slowly asked, "What?"
The pitiful being turned around and whimpered, its eyes wide with distrust. The Lone Shee blinked: it was an Ettin, but none like he'd ever seen before. This small male looked as though he had once been a very handsome fellow; his mocha fur contrasted beautifully with his dark chocolate dredlocks and chocolate chip markings. However, a lifetime spent captive had left him looking very thin and frazzled. Swallowing hard, he repeated, "What?"
"Push machine," the Ettin babbled, trembling. The Lone Shee felt his heart wrench at the sorry state of these creatures, and he reached out to tickle the poor thing. The Ettin howled frightfully and tried to dodge the Shee's hand, only to bump his pot and spill the contents of it across the floor with a piercing crash.
"Express! Express!" he hissed urgently, trying to calm the intimidated creature down as he watched cautiously for any new company aroused by the commotion.
"Etn scared. Run Shee."
The Lone Shee absorbed this revelation with a heavy heart. What dastardly being would force a creature to fear its creators? He unsuccessfully tried to shake the thought away as he rummaged through his bag. "Shee push gadget," he began, motioning to the chains binding the Ettins. "Ettin run machine."
The Ettin watched him as he removed a tiny laser and cut through the chains. After he was through, the Lone Shee was pleased to receive a surprise tickle from the thankful creature. He moved on to a nearby female next, who looked similar in comparison, except her dredlocks and markings were a milky white. It wasn't until he had finished cutting the chains of a third Ettin chef that he noticed the Norn skull.
It must have spilled from the first Ettin's pot when he knocked it over. It was one of the saddest things the Lone Shee had ever seen; that pitiful Norn skull smiling up at him, with nearly all its flesh and muscle gone, and it's hair, the only remains left, sticking up from the top of its head like a jester's hat...
Here the Lone Shee paled in mid-thought. He slowly turned around and moaned when his eyes caught sight of the motionless Harlequin Norns piled in the corner cage. This was the fate that had befallen his precious breed! But they appeared to be the only breed in captivity, which suggested that those eggs on the counter must belong to them.
Without thinking, the Lone Shee scrambled to his feet and began salvaging as many Harlequin eggs as he could manage, stuffing them into his bag rapidly as the unfreed Ettins groused impatiently for his assistance. Suddenly, the room fell quiet. A harsh voice, almost reptilian in nature, whispered something in a language that the Lone Shee recognized, but could not translate. The suspicious Shee only managed to turn around before two fully-grown Grendels lunged at him.
He managed to sidestep one, but the other snagged him around the waist and sent him toppling over the counter, along with a various array of utensils. A third Grendel was waiting for him. She sunk her jaws into the Shee's forearm and helped her partner pin him to the cool, stony floor. With a strangled cry, the Lone Shee groped with is free hand until his fingers grasped a nearby pan handle. He swung it quickly at the female's head, and she slumped to the ground unconscious. With both arms free the Shee shoved the remaining Grendel off and hurried for the door, bag in hand. Not wanting to accidentally Warp one of these beasts back to the Capillata with him, he made for the door and ordered the trio of freed Ettins to run, a command they obeyed with no complaint as he swung the door open. Before he exited, the Lone Shee took a final look at the scene.
A large assembly of Grendels had gathered in the kitchen, and they were all growling at him ferociously. But what chilled him most, what reminded him to flee, was the sight of a pair of dark, ruby eyes belonging to a tall, slender creature masked by the shadows of a side hallway, watching the entire scenario.
It should have been the morning of the next day, but through the Shee's window, everything was still dark and starry. He unconsciously grasped the bandaged wound on his arm as he watched his newest Harlequin hatchling gnaw on a Quirky cookie. The three Ettins had been making them in giant quantities ever since they had returned to the Capillata, most likely in a gesture of appreciation. However, the ship was now full of cookies, which may have made his norns happy, but it left a big mess for him to clean up. The Lone Shee was referring to his new recruits as the Cookie Ettins as a result; that, and their chocolate coats reminded him of his favorite biscuits from home...
Now, more than ever, he wanted to find Sphericus as soon as scientifically possible. He was fully convinced that these strange new Grendels weren't acting alone. Something more advanced had built that sardonic restaurant, and the owners of those same brilliant minds had treated the Ettins and tortured the Norns in the ways he had witnessed. This worried him greatly, especially since he believed that one of these creatures had sent those savage Grendels after him. The viciousness of this cryptic species gave him chills that he could not avoid with distractions alone, and so he was troubled.
The baby Harlequin was now curled up on his chest, nuzzling her head into his robes as she drifted off. She seemed so peaceful, unaware of the events that surrounded the history of her kin and the mysterious future she and her fellow Norns might face, and the superior envied her for this. With a sigh, the Lone Shee reached out and scratched her head until her tiny snores echoed through his room. When the Shee himself fell victim to sleep, he was plagued by images of a childhood fear hunting him, glaring at him with ruby red eyes that shone like stars.