Delia, the Paw That Pulls
Pan-dimensional ragamuffin, Guardian of Lost Corners, Zoomie Catalyst
When you turn your furchild into a pandimensional NPC.
She’s all elbows and angles under a shaggy coat of charcoal and white. Fur that looks like it’s never been brushed—but somehow catches the light just right. Her ears are askew, her eyes are bright, and there’s always a single burr clinging to her side like a badge of honor.
Her gait is an unpredictable mix: part bounce, part prowl, part zoomie spiral. One moment she’s curled in a tight pretzel under your chair; the next she’s chasing ghosts you can’t see down the hallway, barking in a dialect no one’s documented.
Her tail has opinions. It wags like a metronome for moods you didn’t know you had—fast for nervous joy, slow for ancient grief, wagless when something important is about to happen.
She smells like rain on concrete, dusty blankets, and the peanut butter treat she buried in a dimensional rift three settings ago. And somehow, she always has a little dirt on her nose, even if you just gave her a bath in narrative clarity.
She wears a collar with a tag that reads: "Delia Dogbyshire. If found, you probably needed her more than she needed you."
“What if your furry companion got loose in the multiverse and started helping strangers?”
Role in Setting: Delia can appear in any TiGGR setting—punk ruins, haunted strip malls, deep space junkyards, bureaucratic dystopias. She's not tied to time, place, or logic. She just shows up when the story needs a tug on the sleeve.
Roll When:
- She pulls a PC out of a bad situation with zero explanation.
- She gets distracted by a shiny object and causes a new problem.
- She shares a weird truth that seems irrelevant… until it isn't.
Quirk: Delia doesn’t fight—she disarms. She’ll break a mech by crawling into its footwell and chewing the wires. She’ll derail a villain’s monologue by handing them a crayon drawing with the caption “I thought you looked lonely.”
Gear (always inexplicably on her):
- A broken watch that runs on kindness.
- A dog tag that changes names every setting.
- A doggy backpack filled with string, lint, and one very important key (you’ll know when it matters).
Facilitator Note: Delia isn’t meant to be understood. She’s meant to be felt. Use her to shift the tone, soften hard edges, remind players what they’re fighting for. If they try to keep her around too long, she’ll just wander off mid-scene. But she might leave a note. Or a shoe.
Roll a d6: Which Delia Just Showed Up?
Each form still is Delia—they’re just different aspects, the way light refracts through a well-loved soul. You can roll at the start of a session, during scene shifts, or whenever the group needs a ripple of surprise joy.
The Folktale of Delia Dogbyshire
A bedtime truth, told when the wind changes tone.
They say there’s a creature stitched together from the leftover scraps of other creatures. Not a monster, no—but a kind of benevolent glitch. A patch note with paws. She is known in some dimensions as Delia Dogbyshire, the Meerkat Pony Owl Lizard Mutt, though most just call her “Delia” like they’ve always known her.
Long ago, before maps had edges, the universe sneezed—and in that sneeze, a little spark went the wrong way and bounced off a star. That spark fell through twelve realities before landing in the backseat of a beat-up car on the El Paso side of forever. She curled up there, curled so tight she forgot what she’d been before. That’s how she got her nap magic.
Some say she once ran Chihuahua province like a velvet-pawed cartel boss. And went into hiding under an assumed name when rivals and the law closed in. Ask her and she’ll just tilt her head and blink.
Now Delia shows up when things tilt—not quite broken, not quite right. A busted vending machine, a friendship hanging by threadbare trust, a hallway too quiet after something loud. She appears sideways. She pulls at sleeves. She hums half-remembered lullabies to devices and dead radios and tired hearts.
Some say she carries a key that opens nothing but still matters.
Some say she once out-zoomed Death in a field of sunflowers.
Others whisper that Delia is what happens when a wish makes itself.
But all agree: if she finds you, it’s because you needed to remember something soft. Not weak—soft. The kind of softness that outlives collapse. The softness of being held without asking.
And when she leaves?
She leaves behind a pawprint in dust, a new laugh in the corner of your voice, and sometimes—if you check your pocket—a string of lint tied like a friendship bracelet. No one knows what it means. But you’ll keep it anyway.
Just in case she comes back.
Facilitator Note: Choose a version based on the campaign tone, or let them collide. A quiet post-collapse setting? She’s the folktale. A TiGGR Noir? She’s got enemies in three timelines and a price on her head. A Saturday morning cartoon run through a blender? She’s both at once.
Player Hook: If your character helps her, they may become a Friend of the Dogbyshire, gaining once-per-session “Soft Chaos” powers—like finding a door that wasn’t there, or convincing a mech to nap instead of fight.
Delia d’Argent, Paw of the Queen
A blade as quick as her bark. Loyal to her found family. Leaves bones hidden in royal gardens “for later.”
Delia of Delft
A quiet muse. She’s known to appear in haunted galleries, staring through the fourth wall. Paintings shift when you’re not looking.
Madame Macaruff of the Concordant Bakeoff
She can whip up a tart that makes time skip. Once beat a cursed soufflé with only a spoon and willpower.
The Driftpaw Kid
Her pawprint is on every wanted poster this side of the Cactus Curtain. Never draws first—but always walks away.
Neo-Delia.EXE
Cloaked in LED-ribbon and righteous sass. Rumored to be a rogue fragment of a joy protocol lost in the Synth Uprising.
Doggo of the Forgotten Canal
A diplomat and schemer of exquisite taste. Speaks five tongues, including “Disappointed Sigh.” Her ruff alone starts revolutions.
The Nap-Witch of the Interzones
A liminal being who arrives when softness is needed and leaves behind strange comfort. May alter gravity by cuddling. Known associates: vending machines, ghosts with snacks, and the concept of found family.
Thelma with the Lizard Eyes
Former syndicate boss of the Treat & Trot Cartel. Rumored to have trafficked premium jerky and unsanctioned chew toys across transdimensional borderlands. On the run from both los Federales and the Pawtriot Act.
