Jabberwocky Species

Base Species

With her spiral horns freshly daubed in a scandalous shade of royal red—for what creature could possibly forget her owner if painted so loudly?—the Jabberwocky once pranced (or slithered, or some muddled combination thereof) as the Red Queen’s most pampered terror. Serpentine as a riddle written backwards, fearsome as a snubbed monarch, and altogether merciless to any who dared disobey, she was, by all proper accounts, the Queen’s pride, joy, and occasional paperweight.

One would suppose so, anyway.

But Wonderland has a dreadful way of making the supposed quite opposite indeed.

For in truth, the Jabberwocky has been slyly stowing away Her Majesty’s treasured tidbits inside the poor Doormouse for ages—stuffing him like a pantry with legs—and is the true culprit behind the Queen’s spirited-away scarlet sweetmeats. And having hoarded nearly every crumb, morsel, morsel-crumb, and crumb-morsel, she has lingered in Niflheim quite contentedly, letting its gloomy magic stretch her into a stately, bipedal dragoness of most questionable intentions and even more questionable manners.

Should the Queen behold her now, she would, without doubt, turn ten shades redder than her own paint pots.
For the Jabberwocky, the rogue, the rascal, the riddle with claws, has taken to wearing the Queen’s precious pastries—draping them about herself like some confectionary costume—modesty preserved only by the Queen’s own desserts, a fashion decision that would surely make any monarch faint, fall over, and footnote the experience afterward.

Regardless, the Jabberwocky “hunts” Neko Alice—though in the lazy, lackadaisical way a cat hunts a sunbeam. For if she catches the poor girl, why, blame is a banquet! And if she doesn’t catch her, then what a delightful mystery it all remains. And once she gulps down the last of the rich confections, she can slink back to the palace, horns polished, hands sticky, and innocence rehearsed—absolutely confident that no one will suspect a thing.