Crimini

Mushroom aligned Forager

Crimini is a creature of the forest floor, a companion chicken often mistaken for a walking puffball or a decorative loaf of bread. He has no use for sharp clucking, preferring the odd, damp-sounding murmurs that mimic the very ambience of wet woods. He was raised beneath rotting logs by the Sporefluff Flock, a mossy and reclusive coop that believed stillness brings clarity. This philosophy became the core of his being.

His round, still form gives the impression of a creature that hardly moves, yet he possesses an uncanny knack for vanishing the moment your gaze shifts. This isn't a magical act, but something quieter: a profound talent for becoming completely unnoticed. His steps make no sound on the ground, rendering his very presence as subtle as a change in the air.

He occupies his days with quiet rituals, such as organizing fallen leaves into perfect spirals or inspecting fellow mushrooms for signs of friendliness. He will often tilt his head, listening to sounds that exist just outside of normal hearing. When others sleep, Crimini simply *sits.* Watching. Thinking. Possibly fermenting.

While he may seem slow and hard to read, Crimini possesses an instinct that makes him the first to detect when something is amiss. He will signal a hidden danger with a gentle peck long before anyone else is aware of it. And that vacant stare into the middle distance is not him zoning out; it is the deep concentration of a creature listening to the soil breathe.

Likes: Lichen snacks, distant thunder, old tree stumps, wiggly things, and compost piles.
Dislikes: Plastic, fast-talking birds, sudden breezes, and being called “plump.”

Secret Trait: If left alone in the dark long enough, Crimini begins to faintly bioluminesce. Just a little glow around the beak.

Known For: Smelling faintly like a mushroom basket, having a blank stare that feels like it sees your ancestry, and collecting beetle shells for no clear reason.