The northern winds were painfully cold, and I shivered- chilled to the bone and tired- as I stared out at the inky black and ice floes. We had been trailing a pod of humpback whales. It wasnât particularly exciting, I had seen the beasts before, breaching their massive bodies out of the blue-black water. An impressive feat, but the novelty was largely lost to the painful buzz in my fingers and toes from the cold. I had tried once to ask _why_ exactly we were out here, and only got furtive looks and a consoling pat on the back.
One of the other scientist on the ship, a broad shouldered albeit wiry man gave me a chipper âoh youâll see soon.â as he strode past. I decided that out of all the people on the ship I liked him the best.
It had been nearly a month at sea, as we followed the massive beasts when I was shaken awake by Noel. He was grinning, his eyes wide as he shoved my jacket into my arms.
â-ME ON THE DECK!â Was the only thing I caught as he bolted from the room.
Outside was chaos as several people ran past the sealed door, the sound of boots on metal echoing like war drums. Then, suddenly there was a massive bang, the boat listed to the side as whatever it hit shoved it out of the way. It took me several seconds to find my footing afterwards, sleepy legs and a shaking boat donât make a good combination. On my way to the deck, again, the ship hit something. The force of it causing me to slam into the wall. I scowled as I regained my balance, there would certainly be a bruise.
It would not be remembered, not with what I saw as I walked into the Arctic air. A truly massive creature broke the waters surface, itâs jaws tightly clamped around one of the adult whales. Dark steel gray and white, the titan let loose a loud howl as one of the whales slammed into its side trying to save itâs companion. I watched in aw as it swiveled itâs massive neck to bite at its attacker.
Now I understood what we were really after. We werenât out here in the ocean to research whales. we were out here to research the thing that eats them.
Some world building writing, if you care to read it~ this is about one of the species from my headworld known as the DâHol, they are cursed to turn to stone at a certain point in their life. Some make it to their 80s others only live a few months. Itâs a punishment for pissing off a very powerful goddess.
A DâHol life is lived in four parts
The first is of water, it is one of abundance like the seasons of rain. Prone to turbulence like the white creased seas, unpredictable and thrashing like Jhilaâs tail. Blessed with serenity like the streams and springs. The life of water is where one lives with abandon. Without fear of falling, of broken horns, or scraped arms. The life of water is one of experience and learning, moving ever forward until you, beloved brother, join the Sleeping Stone.
The second is of stone, where movement slows to a crawl, and stone begins to take your bones and eyes. It makes you heavy, but it makes you wise. The life of stone is one of reflection as you wait for the Stone Sleep to come and take you. So you may become crystalline and bright.
The third life is of air, your soul is light and bright, wizened by the time spent as sleeping stone. It is a time of rest, be light and free, let your stone songs be carried though the reed and trees, so we too can sing in your honor. In this time, we call upon your soul, to compel your granite form bestow wisdom and strength upon those in their water life.
The fourth is of metal, crystal fragments melted down, brought to Father Gillumgong. His bellyâs heat turning your crystalline flesh into blades and arms. We keep you close to us as adornments feel the beat of you heart within it. In this life you are eternal, one of many whoâs hearts and souls become many more. you guard and assist those in their life of water and remind them of your soul.
-Salu, son of Lui, Priest of the breathing mountains.
Bachu stretched his wings, their dark membranes turning ruddy as the sunlight streamed through thin skin. This would likely be the last time he would be able to fly, stone having set in to his joints and eyes, his vision already blurring some at the edges. Curse be damned he was going to do it anyway, one last foray into the cliffs and clouds before the stone took his eyes and reflexes too completely. He stretched, slowly, wincing at stiff joints that crackled and groaned in protest to movement. It took him a long while before he was finally feeling like he could move despite the pain that had set into his back and wings.
He took the cliff at a run, massive wings wide catching a warm updraft, lifting him some before he leveled out. He had nowhere to go really, content to enjoy the warm breeze as he glided across the sky, his belly skimming low hanging clouds. He banked to the left- slow and deliberate- sliding across the side of a cliff face, the stone muddied and brown. He kicked off the side for a moment, not wanting to think of rocks, and sleep, and losing his family.
A little challenge Iâm imposing on myself this month, somewhat inspired by NaNoWriMo,
Every day Iâm going to try and write 1700-2000 words with the focus being a different character!
Wanna see every day? Check this tag Here!
This one turned out short- itâs only about 500 words- But i felt like i needed to post something since i missed the 4th dayâŚ
Weather it was day or night Quinn didnât know or care. His base- a defunct Grem Corps. exploration sub- hummed with life and machinery. It was spacious and surprisingly dry, considering it was well beneath the water. its interior was cast in a glow from hundreds of screens each broadcasting a different image, some flickering between various feeds. Quinn hummed as he rolled back in his chair, tail flicking with pent up energy. Around him several hovering robots, each baring his visage darted around, tiny mechanical arms tinkering with gadgets or cleaning, or in the case of one, playing on a small handheld as several others floated around it, chirping and whirring in excitement.
Typically, Quinn would have been yelling at the Quinnbots to get back to work, but today he was anxious. The Quinnbot he had sent out several days ago was finally making its return. A precious cargo held safely in its chasse. When the meteor had first landed he sent the little bot out to collect radiographic scans, survey, and if it could collect a sample. Quinn had not expected, Grem Corps. - Being the pest they were- to enlist half the damn city to help. The only advantage was seeing first hand some of the effects of the crystals, which only made Quinn want it more. He sighed leaning back, eyes lazily drifting over screens, some of them feeds from Quinnbots he had sent all over the world. Others progress screens and scanners from his last couple experiments with some particularly interesting bio-metal he had acquired.
       The sound of decompressing doors made him sit up and turn, grinning from ear to ear as a single Quinnbot stuttered into the room.  Something, he thought, was seriously wrong with it. It finally crashed to the ground and rolled the last few feet to his chair, its screen flickering and a pathetic whine coming from it. Quinn frowned backing away, The Quinnbot attempting to right itself to follow failing as the metal that made its body warped violently. He watched the little droid struggle, the radiation from the crystal clearly causing the biological components of the metals to mutate.
InterestingâŚ
It took a moment for the little droid to finally stop its trashing, the form slowly turning mottled and gray before finally disintegrating with a final pathetic whine. He sighed looking over the rotted husk, the underlying skeleton of a cybunny, a pile of rust, and a single chunk of crystal all that remained. Â He backed away again.
âQ2B9. Collect the crystal please. Put it in the fission tanks for now.â
The droid hesitated, looking down at its fallen companion and gave an irate little whirr the glowing eyes sitting on its face turning into a little animated glare.
âOh donât whine, He had that crystal for about 5 days, youâre only going to have it for 5 minutes.â
Q2B9 clearly was not convinced, a noise sounding rather similar to blown raspberry coming from the little droid before it finally picked it up, putting off seemingly in a rather big hurry.
A little challenge Iâm imposing on myself this month, somewhat inspired by NaNoWriMo,
Every day Iâm going to try and write 1700-2000 words with the focus being a different character!
Wanna see everyday? Check this tag Here!
Rain fell in heavy drops, making the roads muddy and the already miserable ride unbearable with a troop of complaining men, the stink of damp horse, and whatever other unpleasantness was on the dirt road even worse. It wasnât even supposed to rain that day, at least not from what anyone could tell. For the past several months the entire area had been deep in a drought, and no one had seen any chance of it stopping soon. Let alone the damn monsoon that seemed to have opened on top of them. At first, the rain was nice, water canteens were filled and the freedom from the heat was welcomed but now the seventh hour into the storm, even Mason was growing tired of it.
It wasnât that Mason and his posse werenât unaccustomed to bad weather- witch hunting was a mobile job after all. You had to be willing to travel to where the bastards were if you wanted to make the money that was promised from it. Considering what they got payed, a little harsh weather was a minor thing. Didnât make dealing with it anymore pleasant.
They were supposed to be headed to a job now, a small town plagued by a witch killing the farm animals. He squinted into the darkness feeling slightly uncomfortable, the harsh weather had him turned around, something itching at the back of his mind. Â Ahead, lights broke thought he deep haze, behind him, Jeffers, who clearly saw it too kicked his horse into a full gallop whopping as he passed. Mason laughed kicking his own horse into a spirited trot as the rest of his men charged ahead themselves.
A single inn sat on the side of the road, it was small but even with the rain the smell of food clung heavily to the air. Glad to be away from the rain he was soon to follow the rest of his men. The sign above the place swung in the winds, its wood cut words having long since faded away. Â He gave a sigh of relief as he entered, the warm and dry a welcome change. Most of his men had already made themselves at home.
âIâm assuminâ youâre the one in charge of all these kids?â
Mason turned, a young woman smiling at him, stepping around a large puddle on the floor. She was young looking. Maybe twenty at most, brown haired, brown eyed, pale skinned, and oddly familiar.
âUnfortunately, Sorry about them. Excited to be out of the rain.â His tone apologetic. âCominâ down like a typhoon out there. Do yaâ got enough rooms for us?â
She smiled at him, it was a kind look, surprisingly patient considering the late hour and the raucous group that had just charged, wet booted and excited into her establishment.
âIâm sure we do. Not many travelers cominâ out this way. Iâll have my brother get your horses put away.â She laughed, turning to grab keys from behind the counter. âAnd I can get some food ready for ya if youâd like. Iâm sure yâall are hungry!â
At her words the men whooped and cheered and Mason, finally found himself a seat to take in the place. It was just as comfortable on the outside as it was in, a fire roared in the hearth blanketing the entire place in a warm glow. The tables and chairs and just about everything else was worn but clean, the wood in the place rich and dark.
Mason forced himself relax, it was the first time in a while he had the chance to enjoy real food and real ale, all of which rather quickly found its way to tables and the empty stomachs that awaited them. No point on being on edge. It quieted some when the food arrived, the men content to fill their bellies. The girl who introduced watching from behind the bar.
âSo⌠why the big group? You lot a travlinâ show or somthin?â she asked as she busied herself with the cleaning for the night.
âHunters Maâam, we hunt witches and the like.â
An odd look crossed her face at this, her busy cleaning stopping for the briefest of moments.
âSounds dangerous.â
âIt can be. But thatâs why some oneâs gotta do it. Canât leave those bastards out there to mutilate the good normal folk.â
Mason watched her closer this time, that look again, it made his skin crawl. But in a flash, it was gone again, replaced with a gentle smile and amusement, she laughed, and nodded
âI suppose thatâs true. Â Monsters like that have no place with the good folk. Now if you donât mind, I need to make a run to the back, it looks like more drink may be needed.â She said with a wink and a smile sliding into the back room.
Mason frowned, unsettled, something about that girl digging insistently at some thought he could quite catch. Absentmindedly he ate, looking around the place, watching for something that could jog his memory. In the corner a commotion erupted, Jeffers again, he reasoned as he leant over to see what the man had gotten into an amused smile on his face. An amusement that didnât last long, he watched with horror as his companion fell off his seat, choking and coughing, something black and viscus dripping from his lips. Then commotion at another table, then another, panic ripping though the group like a thunderclap.
Mason sat in stunned silence as his men, ten companions whoâve all fought their way through hell and back began to change, Fur and horns and blood. The sound of ripping fabric and flesh as their human forms were shredded away by their own claws. Howls and shrieks of pain as some attempted to mutilate themselves to stop whatever was happening. Then suddenly pain like no other blossomed in Masonâs stomach, like hot coals and acid had been poured into his guts. He doubled over and retched, black ichor, bitter and thick poured from his mouth, burning his throat and face. He wanted to scream as the pain flowed through his whole body, but all his body did was go limp, falling from the chair. Distantly he heard the bowl he held crash to the ground, but the din of yells and the loud incessant ringing in his ears all but muffled it.
He felt his bones break and grow, shifting to accommodate whatever beastly form his body was trying to take. He felt his face extend, the flesh tearing from the sudden and forceful change. He watched in horror, his teeth falling out in a black bloody mess as new sharp ones grew in their place, long vicious tusks included. He tried to scream out, tried to call to his companions but he couldnât, his vocal cords having long since shredded.
He wanted to die.
It felt like the pain would never come to an end as muscles rewound themselves around massive arms, and his legs bent and broke to make room for hooves.  He clawed at the ground Forcing himself to stand, the room spinning from the sudden change in⌠everything. He blinked down at his hands⌠paws⌠claws? The sharp nails having left deep furrows in the wood, the sight of them making his already tenuous grasp on consciousness difficult. Pain still radiated off his body, his movements shaky and unsure as he stumbled a few steps forward.
âWhat⌠is this?â he croaked, his voice rough, slurred, and deeply unnatural. He tried to walk again, wobbling some on the new limbs, trying to get to his men, some of which lay on the ground in twisted piles of pulsating flesh, unrecognizable as anything that could have been human. Still others tore at themselves or each other, making the floor slick with blood and ichor.
âWhatâs going on!â This time the sound escaped as a roar, the sound reverberating in sensitive ears, making him draw back from his own volume. Behind him he heard a laugh, high and just as unsettling as the sight before him. Quickly, he turned, his footing failing him and sending him colliding into the ground. And above him stood the inn keep, a wicked smile in her young face.
âRevenge. Comeuppance for murdering my mother you bastard.â She spat, pride dripping from every word.
A little challenge im imposing on myself this month, some what inspired by NaNoWriMo,
Every day iâm going to write 1700-2000 words with the focus being a different character!
Wanna see everyday? Check this tag Here!
Todayâs Character is Toro, a Grem2 (a species owned by MrGremble on DA), reflecting on his past~
So much to do, Barrels needed cleaning, and others needed turned or moved. The fruit was just starting to get ripe enough to pick for the future wine seasons. Not that much of it was going to get done, the constant overcast of the day threating more rain. More rain that would suck tires into already oversaturated earth, and damage crops. Toro sighed, letting his mind wonder to his work and all the things that werenât getting done.
âHey, Toro?â A tiny voice piqued up from well below him, itâs owners small hand held in his own large one. Toro Glanced down at the girl that happily trailed next to him, black curls bouncing as she hopped from puddle to puddle.
He hummed in response as he watched her, a serious look on her young face, a soft puff of air escaping him in amusement. Andy, was his owners girl, a perfect mix of her parents. Her motherâs dark hair and her fatherâs thick curls, the same deep brown eyes they both had. Typically, it was their job to pick her up from school- today though, it had been tasked to him. With the new selling season keeping her father away, and her mother busy with a quickly growing photography studio- Â they needed all the free hands they could get. Plus, they had been more than kind to him. He was a grem made to work and yet they treated him like family- helping was the least he could do.
âDo you know what stars are made of?â She finally asked, after a long moment of thought; eyes, big and, bright, and curious. Her question made the grem pause, his ears rolling back. Staring at the sky as clouds rolled by overhead, distant thunder threatening more rain he couldnât imagine what would spark such a line of questioning. He was no scholar, Big and broad with long horns that curved up and over his head, it was clear he was built for brawn- and what he had learned pertained mostly to just to basics.
âI donât know.â He finally admitted with a soft laugh. Â Clearly, not pleased with this response Andy huffed- jumping with more force than was needed into a particularly deep puddle in the grass. Â
âBut we can ask your dad once he gets home.â
She frowned more at this her grip on the gremâs hand growing tighter.
âBut I want you to tell meâŚâ She was clearly pouting now, and Toro felt his heart squeeze some in his chest at the childâs over acting.
âWell⌠Maybe their bugs?â
âEw! Bugs are gross!â
âRight, no bugs. Maybe,â he paused looking around for another idea, meanwhile Andy hopped into another puddle, flinging mud and water into the air, âTheyâre rain drops. That never fell?â Â This thought seemed to delight her, a wide grin splitting across her face.
âDo yaâ think thereâs puddles up there too?â
âPuddles so big you could swim in them!â Toro teased, lifting Andy off the ground before she could leap into a particularly muddy dip in the earth. âAnd cleaner too. So, you wouldnât get mud all over your uniform every time it rainedâ She squealed as she was lifted, giggling and squirming in his grip before he put her back down.
                                    Â
âWe learned in class, what stars are actually made of today!â she said, excited looking up at the grem that walked beside her.
âTheyâre made of gas! And their big balls of fire! Way, Way up in the sky!â Â
Toro laughed watching her as she seemed to inflate with pride at her tidbit of knowledge, proud that she knew more than an adult.
âIf you already knew then whyâd you asked me?â
âI was testing you!â She laughed darting ahead to the crosswalk, her backpack bouncing as she came to a stop.
 Toro had, quite on accident, become rather fond of Andy, heâd even dared say he loved her. She was bright and full of the joy of life that only a child had. When he first met her nearly two years ago he was unsure, the eight-year-old bombarding him with questions before he had even gotten in the door. It took much coaxing and a small fight for the girl to finally leave him with some peace. At the time he found her overwhelming. Like many of his kind they had all been made with the intention to be able to adapt to any type of family. That didnât make communicating with a child any less awkward for him. Especially one that would- with every chance she got- assault him with questions so rapidly he was still trying to think of an answer to the previous by the time two more came his way.
Toro had always been considered a quiet grem, content to stay out of the way, and out of trouble. He was accomplished at following any task he was given to a tee, even if there were multiple to keep up with. It was why the Lopez family had decided to purchase him in the first place. A premade grem that the maker had defaulted on, sold on discount, and ready to work as needed. A pair of hands that werenât just seasonal work. So of course, very little of his training prepared him for a child, let alone a rambunctious one that was constantly full of questions.
       It didnât take him long though to grow fond of her presence, her infectious laughter quickly worming its way into his heart. He found himself looking forward to the long work hours being broken by her appearances. Every day sheâd come straight to him with new projects from school, and requests to play games or color. In the beginning he often had to decline her, but as the winery grew so did the amount of staff. And Emily, the matriarch of the family had already taken note of her daughterâs attachment to their new gest. Often waving Toro away, stating that âspending time with Andy could just be part of his duties.â.
 Toro grinned despite himself, her genuine and bright personalty always had a way of cheering him up.  Ahead of him Andy bounced on the spot, beaming widely. waiting for him to catch up so they could cross the street together.
  Toro blinked tiredly into the half-lit room, eyes feeling dry and a knot in his throat. At some point he must have falling asleep, on the deflated couch in the motel he had taken up in. His back and neck hurt and moving came with the protesting of joints that did not appreciate being forced to sit on a piece of furniture that should have really been classified as a torture device. He stared up at the ceiling scowling at the rather unpleasant shade of yellow that decidedly made him feel sick to his stomach.  He closed his eyes again, not wanting to move, trying to will himself back to sleep. Back to the memories and dreams of a life long gone.  He pressed his hands against his eyes, lights erupting behind them, the pressure relieving the sensation of vertigo that was still pressing in on him. It took him a long while to finally stand, movements slow as he shuffled into the bathroom to splash his face with lukewarm water.
