Gallivespians, Twk-Men, and Tiny People

Kev Walker, Glen Elendra Archmage

 Arnold K’s most recent edition of his excellent monster manual, the MONSTROME, laid out some thoughts on sprites as tiny non-magical winged people. Miniature people are an immediately adventure-ready concept. It’s fun to think about how they would interact with a space, meet their needs, make common objects out of tiny things, interact with animals, and so on. In giving his sprites an interesting combat niche, Arnold seems to dial in on recreating Attack on Titan but with the roles reversed and the PCs in the position of the lumbering giants. In general I like this framework, because fighting a smart little wasp is cool. However, I really don’t care for Attack on Titan, and the model here recreates it too closely for my taste (why do the sprites’ neck razors target specifically the back of the neck on a human and not, say, the throat or ankles?). This got me thinking about other versions of these creature types in fiction, the Gallivespians of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials and the Twk-men of Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth: why I like them, and what seems gameable about them.

As Arnold points out, tiny winged people are often physically threatening in the way that our fear of an angry hornet or swarm of bees are, while non-flying borrower types generally aren’t. I think for that reason flying people are better suited to being a “monster” encounter, while borrowers make better PCs (this is one of the main appeals of the entire “mouse fantasy” genre). The Gallivespians and twk-men split the difference here by being tiny people who ride about on dragonflies. In addition to cool insect mounts, they each have an interesting angle for an RPG. The Gallivespians are proud, honorable fighters with venomous spurs in their heels, and the Twk-men have access to the setting’s rumor table and are happy to trade for that information.

The Secret World of Arrietty

GALLIVESPIANS

Gallivespians look like tiny people. They are haughty and proud, and have names like Chevalier Tialys, Lord Roke, and Lady Salmakia. A Gallivespians dragonfly is brightly colored, and different clans breed their insects for different colors and qualities such as aggression, speed, or the ability to glow in the dark.

As a combat encounter the Gallivespian spurs are interesting for the same reason that Arnold’s razor-wielding sprites are: they’re deadly, but require the Gallivespian to get into a difficult position. The Gallivespian move is arguably harder to pull off, as they have to leap from their dragonfly and onto the person they want to sting, but any area of exposed skin will work. Gallivespians also can only produce so much venom in a given day, so they’re better equipped for assassinations and stand-offs. The average fight probably goes something like: a bunch of dragonfly-riding knights burst from cover, darting about and blowing tiny trumpets and hurling tiny harpoons at your eyes. As you try to swat them out of the air one leaps onto your least-armored friend, puts the spurs to their throat, and shouts at you to surrender.

As roleplaying encounters the Gallivespian honor code feels like a fun angle for NPCs because it’s both immediately understandable (“what if knights but very small”) and slightly orthogonal to human behavior. Gallivespians don’t regard trickery or stealth as dishonorable when employed against humans, because in their eyes this is just being brave and clever. Every human is incredibly dangerous to a Gallivespian, so the concept of a fair fight doesn’t really apply. They might deceive you, but they won’t lie to you or break a promise. They also get offended easily if you insult them or question their reputation.

Lastly, the Gallivespian “lodestone resonator,” a kind of stone cello that can be used to communicate over long distances, is a nice twist on the image of the fiddle-playing grig. The resonators come in twinned pairs, and when one is bowed on the twin also produces music. This has some potential in a world where instantaneous long distance communication is uncommon, as it comes with interesting limitations: you need to have the twin on hand, know the right code, and you need to be listening in at the right time, all of which can potentially be exploited.

Borrowing Arnold’s GLOG statblock, you might use the following:

Gallivespian

Lvl 3  (HP 1)  Def dragon  Weapon 1d2, or Spur 1+Venom

Move slow Str low  Dex high  Dis haughty

Spur – Gallivespians have 3 Venom Dice. When pricking an opponent with their spurs, the Gallivespian chooses how much venom to inject. The victim takes that many d6s worth of poison damage, plus the following:

1. Save or suffer -2 to all rolls requiring the affected limb for an hour due to extreme pain. If you are stung on the neck or head then this is basically all rolls.

2. Save or fall into a feverish sleep.

3. Save or die.

For each size category add or subtract one die category. A child dealt 1 dice worth of venom must save or fall unconscious, while an ogre injected with the same amount of venom wouldn’t feel anything beyond the pain of the initial sting.

Gallivespian Dragonfly

Lvl 3  (HP 1)  Def dragon 

Move fast Str low  Dex high  Dis aggressive

Kerascoet, Beautiful Darkness

TWK-MEN

Vance’s Twk-men are also proud and brave, but we don’t get as much of their inner lives. They’re small, have greenish skin, wear gauzy smocks, carry lances, and chew leaves. The one twk-man whose name we learn is the chieftain Dandanflores. Unlike the Gallivespians, twk-men do not appear to be hostile towards humans, just curt and unwilling to do anything for free.

Zipping about on their dragonflies, they apparently hear everything that goes on within a wide radius of their native forests (in Liane the Wayfarer a twk-man shares rumors from “the manse of Florejin the Dream-Builder”, the ancient city of Kaiin, and Thamber Meadow). This, along with their willingness to trade, are common knowledge. Letting PCs access a rumor table while out in the wilderness is already interesting, but what makes the twk-men even more fun is the type of goods they accept. The materials need to be valuable, difficult for the twk-men to manufacture or obtain, and small/light enough to be carried by a large dragonfly. In Vance’s stories we see travelers exchange salt (1 gram per rumor is apparently a standard rate, and an experienced bandit carries tiny scales with him for the purpose), a vial of oil pressed from exotic flowers, and a skein of fine thread. 

This economy provides a lot to work with. In Mazirian the Magician the titular character tries to purchase information with salt, but is informed that this tribe of twk-men have an arrangement with a famous bandit who provides enough salt for all of them. What else have you got that’s small and precious? Do you go to war with the bandit in order to corner the salt market in this part of the woods? How much information is he getting for all that salt, and now that the twk-men have seen you do you need to worry about bandit attacks? You can also limit the number of rumors that a given twk-man will dispense and justify it by saying that they can only carry so much stuff on their dragonfly (the one in Liane the Wayfarer is satisfied with three grams, which appear to fill the panniers on his dragonfly-saddle).

As written, twk-men barely need stat blocks. Use the one for the Gallivespian but remove the Spurs attack and give them access to the rumor table of your choice.

Of course, there’s no reason you couldn’t combine both creatures and have little people who ride dragonflies and fight with poisoned spurs or spears when they aren’t trading salt for rumors.