In general resembling a baseline humanoid, the Blemmyes stand only slightly taller than most others that they meet, but it is the fact that they do so without a head which makes them so imposing. Thickset about the shoulders and tapering at the waist, they have almost comedically disproportionate legs which serve to make their musculature look even more frightening. Dressing very plainly, they don’t usually wear tunics because these would obscure their features, which are oversized and take up most of the torso. With eyes on their pectorals, they have no nipples or noses but a large mouth which stretches across the abdominal region, upturned usually in a knowing smile that plays into a common conception of them being wise old creatures come to space to spread their knowledge. Encountered usually in places with a temperate climate, they seem to have spread all across the galaxy at some point prior to the advent of fast travel, but live in isolated communities numbering only thirty individuals at their absolute capacity. This is due to a lengthy aging process and the care that they prefer to lavish in raising their offspring, who upon reaching adulthood at a hundred and twenty are still considered naive by their elders. Certain planets have up to a fifty of these groupings, but on worlds where they are not the dominant sentient species the population is often capped at two or three rural communes, living in secluded tracts of wilderness in the shadow of medieval societies.
For some reason they have a particular affection for peoples of low technological sophistication, although this is not repaid in kind and they are often hunted by their neighbours (if they even know they’re there). For this reason it is unusual to encounter a Blemmyae living in space. Adept at weaving, cooking and hunting, they have a hearty constitution which protects them from most illnesses and thick skin that insulates them from the freezing rains that pour down in their preferred places of residence. Bizarrely they like to fashion hats for themselves made in emulation of those worn by their planet-mates, although no effort is made to change the proportions of these and they shrink to insignificance atop their broad 'heads'. Somehow they manage to stop these hats from falling off even when they are running, leading to some proverbs who say that those who can swipe a Blemmyes hat will be blessed with good luck. Building non-airtight ships, their people are barred from spreading into airless regions of space or into places of extreme cold, but they don’t mind and still have plenty of room left to explore in the galaxy's temperate zones. After landing, they will very carefully conceal their ship in a cave or at the bottom of a lake to stop the people they are living alongside from finding it and. prematurely getting access to the stars. Evenso they pass down the knowledge of how to build their ships from generation to generation to prepare for the eventuality that the original one breaks down and they suddenly need to leave. There are popular stories that as one of the oldest spacefaring cultures, they elect by choice to live in primitivity alongside developing peoples to safeguard them against meddling from space.
Famed for the quality of their garb, Blemmyes communities sometimes receive visitors who land temporarily to bargain for uncut lengths of cloth that they can use to fashion clothing of their own, pre-dyed and treated with wax to make it stylish and waterproof. For that reason white tunics covered in checkers of a whole panoply of colours are popular in space, as evidence of intimate first hand experience on a planet's surface, and as a sign of gregarity. This is because Blemmyes refuse to deal with people who they deem to be untrustworthy, and with a highly developed sense of intuition, it is nearly impossible to deceive them. Wearing the clothes that they produce is not a sign of material wealth, as the Blemmyes only desire to receive accurate news about the wider galaxy in return for their garments, although they have also been known to accept musings on a philosophical subject that intrigues them. Perhaps the best way to engage with their people is to entice them into a lengthy conversation about morality, maybe lasting for hours or protracted across several days. On the oldest maps of space, stylised depictions of their kind crowd in the still sparsely known regions near the core. These are not merely to distract from the emptiness of those places, but are to communicate that the Blemmyes have substantial populations there. Many of the species who arose in these areas have a deep admiration for their ancient allies, and a mutual understanding that stretches back into generations of careful correspondence.