Iota - Tumblr Posts
“That’s quite nasty, isn’t it?” Harry says, pointing to the Dark Mark.
“It makes for an okay reminder,” Draco says.
“Of what you were?” Harry asks, absurdly generous.
Draco has to take a breath. “Of who I want to be.”
— All Things Go by iota
Orion's belt and sword
Credit - astrofalls ( Bray falls)
Iota (Part 1)
Pain greeted Ashiko from all sides as she rose into the world of the living. Freezing wind stung her face. Burning metal seared her back. Her bionic fingertips tingled despite having no built-in feeling. She pulled herself to her feet and steadied herself against the torn hull of a crashed airship. As her brain collected itself and registered what just happened, her duties returned to her mind.
Evander! I have to find him!
As the prince’s bodyguard, she had a contractual obligation to keep track of him. But her sense of duty wasn’t what pulled her out of the knee-deep slush. She dragged her slippered feet through the snow, regaining control of her body with each step. Dark figures moved in the night, briefly silhouetted by flashes of blue and red. Crystals of refined Mistral Scoria that once held the airship aloft now flung snow high into the starless sky. She took her phone out of the pocket of her heavy winter cloak and tapped on the prince’s number. Through her swimming vision, she could make out two concerning words in the top corner of the screen: “No Signal.” That was weird. She had a signal until the moment before the crash. The popping in her joints was almost gone when someone lunged out of the darkness at her. Ashiko ducked down and, using the attacker’s weight against them, tossed them over her shoulder and pinned them to the ground.
“Woah, woah, woah!” choked the figure, their voice strangled and shallow beneath Ashiko’s literal iron grip. A rising plume of billowing, smoky flames illuminated the figure’s features. A strong jaw, amber skin, and pointed ears. She immediately recognized him. He was one of the flighthands on the ship.
“Sorry!” Ashiko said, immediately releasing her hold on the flighthand’s neck. He scrambled back, fearfully gazing up at her. “Sorry, sorry.” She looked down at her phone. The prince’s number illuminated on the screen re-ignited her memory.
“The prince!” she said in a flurry of hushed whispers.
“Who?” asked the flighthand, massaging his neck.
Ashiko grabbed him about the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “Evander Zausch! Prince of Kustestade!”
“-Shh! They could hear you!-”
“He’s in trouble!”
“How are you gonna help him? You cannae even stand up straight!” The flighthand grabbed Ashiko’s arms, steadying her. “Listen. There’s nothing you can do about the prince. Right now you need to worry about yourself.”
Ashiko froze in place. She was trapped in a whirlwind of thought, caught between her duties and the reality of the situation. Her common sense prevailed. She knew that without her wits about her and without a weapon to defend herself, she had no chance of rescuing her prince. “Scheisse! You’re right.” She looked down the mountain. Just below the snowdrift was a sprawling pine forest. On the edge of the horizon she could see lights. Civilization. “Do you think we can make it there?”
“Would you rather stay here with the sky-pirates?”
“You’re just full of good points today,” said Ashiko. She took the flighthand’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Follow me.” As the two survivors trudged through the fresh snow, the howling wind and roar of the broken thrusters muffled the sound of their footsteps.
Down in the dark forest, they finally had a moment to catch their breath. Unhindered by the lights of the estate, Ashiko could see the night sky in its completeness. Iota’s rings curled across the horizon like angelic fingers; the hand of a divine being keeping a close watch on the people below. Two large spots of color hung over them; Iota’s twin moons. It was unusual to see them in the sky at the same time. Ashiko forgot if it was supposed to be a good or bad omen. A carpet of stars above distracted her from her surroundings on the ground, sending her straight into a tree trunk.
“What’s your name?” asked the flighthand as they came to the tree line.
“Ashiko,” Ashiko answered on instinct, “Ashiko Kaida, personal bodyguard to His Highness, Prince Evander Zausch.”
“How ‘personal?’” the flighthand asked, throwing up a pair of air quotes.
Ashiko narrowed her yellow eyes and tugged at the edges of her cloak. Although wet and musty with melted snow and sweat, it still bore hints of his smell. “You don’t need to know what the prince and I do.”
“Shouldn’t the prince’s ‘personal bodyguard’ be a man?” the flighthand -very reasonably- asked.
“I asked him about that once,” Ashiko said, “He told me it was a stupid question and never gave me an answer.”
“This prince, he doesn’t sound like a nice fellow.”
“No, he’s a good guy. He’s just a little… demanding sometimes. That’s just how royalty is, you know?” She fell silent. “It’s too dark out here.” She pressed a button on her metal arm, and the Scoria batteries popped out, bathing their surroundings in a bright blue light. “That should help.” She turned to the flighthand. “But enough about me. Who are you?”
“Sundara Darcy,” said the flighthand. In the light, Ashiko could see that he was sharply dressed. His pinstriped pants and button-down shirt didn’t seem well-suited to the weather, but next to Ashiko in her blue pajamas and winter cloak, he still looked significantly more prepared. “Personal bodyguard to that heap of twisted steel.”
Ashiko winced. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sundara said, “If anything, it’s your royal hosts who are to blame.”
Ashiko bristled at the accusation. “What makes you think that?”
“I can’t think of anyone else on that airship who’d have a hit squad after them,” Sundara said, “Handsome guy, though, that prince. I hope he’s alright.”
“If he isn’t,” Ashiko said as a strip of raveling asphalt came into view, “Then my entire country is in danger.”
“Right now that’s not important to us,” Sundara said.
“Right,” Ashiko said, “We need to find a place where we won’t freeze to death.” She took her phone out and checked her reception again. Still nothing. “And where I can get a decent signal.” Sundara, seeing this, followed suit, and flipped open his phone.
“No use,” he said, snapping it closed, “My company doesn’t cover Victon.”
“Perks of serving royalty, I guess.”
A short way down the road was a cozy-looking wooden lodge. Honey-colored light trickled out from the frosty windows into the snowy dawn. White smoke billowed out of the concrete chimney. “That looks like a good place to start.”
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Next Chapter
Iota (Part 2)
Ashiko pushed open the double doors, letting the icy gale rifle through her cloak before slamming into the bulwark of warm air inside. All noise in the diner ceased, apart from the crackling of the cheap television and the howling of the wind that drew every eye to her.
“Hey!” the owner said, not daring to remove her hands from the cables coming from the back of the television, “Close that door! You’re lettin’ in the cold!”
“Sorry,” Ashiko said sheepishly, closing the door behind Sundara. They took a seat at the bar, and the owner walked over to them.
“You’re an awful strange pair, friends. What brings you here?” she asked the two of them. Her brow was heavy, weighed down by the uncountable creases on her forehead. Laugh lines spread from her bespectacled eyes like river deltas that had seen a lot of water.
“Our airship was shot down up there in the mountains,” Sundara said.
“They also took down the radio tower,” Ashiko continued, “so we can’t get phone signals.”
“That’s rough, buddy,” the owner said, “Any injuries? There’s a clinic just down the street. I could have my son take you there.”
“No, we’re fine,” Ashiko said, “Just a little cold.”
“I’ll get you some coffee. On the house.”
Ashiko and Sundara gawked at this generosity, but their amazement was slightly lessened a moment after.
“It’s a week old, and I can’t legally sell it,” said the owner, “but it’s the thought that counts, right?” She passed two steaming mugs down the bar.
“Y-yes,” Sundara said, taking the hot mug in his hands, “Cheers.”
“Thank you,” Ashiko said as she received her mug. The warmth of the ceramic seeped through her frigid fingers.
“You’re up awfully early,” Sundara said.
“It’s not that early,” replied Ashiko.
“It’s four in the morning!”
“Plenty of people come down from the mountains in the morning,” the woman told them, gesturing to the snow-dusted, heavily-garbed customers, “Mostly hunters and campers who don’t want to freeze out there. But pirate attacks? Those are new to me. We don’t get a lot of action around here.”
Sundara reached for his wallet but soon looked up from his empty pocket with a look of horror on his face. “Hey, erm,” he said, “Is there a quest board or something here? I’ve got no money.” He turned to Ashiko. She shook her head.
“I don’t have pockets.”
The owner took pity on them, something they would wish for later on. She leaned in close to them and whispered: “I’ll give you twenty dollars… if you get that girl out of my establishment.” She subtly pointed to a girl sitting in the corner, who looked to be about their age. She wore little more than tattered, rolled-up overalls and a short wool poncho which looked far too drafty for this weather. Flowery vines curled down her legs to her bare toes. Her blond hair was tangled up in twigs and leaves. She carried a long stick of carved bone with a translucent blue blade at one end made of some sort of crystal.
“Why?” asked Ashiko, “She isn’t causing any trouble.”
“Look closer.”
Ashiko and Sundara followed the owner’s attention to the girl, who caught sight of a withered flower in a little planter on the windowsill. She brought a small egg-shaped flute to her lips and blew a few notes toward the flower. The bent brown stem straightened and filled out with growing streaks of green. The dried petals uncurled and returned to a fresh springtime bloom.
“That’s not natural,” Sundara said, thoroughly spooked.
Ashiko shook her head, but didn’t take her eyes off the anomaly unfolding in front of her. “I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation for that.”
“We have some more… religiously-minded folks that come through here,” the owner said, “I don’t want someone to take her out back like Ol’ Blue cause they think she’s a witch.”
“Best get on with it, then. I’ll take care of this,” Sundara told Ashiko. He hopped down from his barstool and, coffee mug in hand, sat down across from this mystery girl.
“Hi!” the mystery girl said. Her chipper, disarming tone almost got to Sundara, but the promise of twenty dollars steeled his nerves.
“Morning,” Sundara said back, “I’m doing… an investigation in this town, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Okay!” the girl said, idly swinging her feet back and forth. “What do you need?”
“What’s your name?-”
“Mardan!” the girl answered before Sundara had even finished his sentence, “Mardan Atalanta. That’s my name!”
“Nice to meet you, Mardan,” Sundara found himself acting much more cordial than he intended, “I’m Sundara. Now, we’ve been getting reports of local wildlife-”
“Oh, I’m not local,” Mardan said, “Even though the wildlife here is really cool! I’m from Pantano.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I’m here on a vision quest!”
“Fascinating. Are you sure this is the best place to talk about something that personal?” asked Sundara, going in for the kill.
“That’s a good point,” Mardan said, “You seem like a guy who has a lot of good points. Let’s get out of here.”
Mardan hopped off her stool and skipped outside, without grabbing a coat or anything. Sundara followed after her, bracing himself against the cold.
Ashiko shared a look with the owner, who slid her a twenty-dollar bill.
“That went surprisingly well.”
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Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
Iota (Part 3)
“Aren’t you cold?” Sundara asked Mardan, rubbing his shoulders.
“Nope!” Mardan said, “Are you?”
Sundara glanced from side to side. Should he admit it? “Yeah, sort of.”
“Let me help.” Mardan wrapped one arm around Sundara’s neck, pulling him down to her height, and held her small egg-shaped flute in the other. She played a bouncy, jovial melody, and Sundara felt the air around him grow almost uncomfortably warm. “Better?”
Sundara was still rather taken aback by this display of what he could only describe as magic. Judging by her appearance, she didn’t seem like the type to have advanced invisible space-heaters or mind-warping powers to make him think he was warm. This was something weird, eldritch, alien. Something that people would post about on Nexus message boards and get laughed to the bottom of the page for. An affront to nature and reality itself. But the way she used it so… casually was nothing short of astonishing. If he were a different man, she would have swept him off his feet. “Quite. What was that?”
“I don’t know. It just sorta happens whenever I really concentrate on making it happen.”
“Is it… magic?”
Mardan giggled and slapped Sundara on the arm. Her small, sinewy body packed more punch than Sundara expected. “Magic isn’t real, silly!”
“What was that, then?”
“I have a theory,” Mardan said, not letting go of Sundara, “Not about the magic. About why you brought me out here.”
“Oh.” Sundara broke out in a cold sweat, which became a warm sweat in the presence of the hot air.
“You wanted to ask me out, didn’t you?”
“What?” Sundara was certainly not expecting that theory.
“That’s a thing sailors do, right? Find a pretty girl on the shore and do… stuff?”
Sundara felt a little scared of what this girl could be thinking. “What kind of ‘stuff’ were you thinking of?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Mardan said, scratching her chin and gazing up into the washed-out sky, “Get ice cream? Watch a movie? Hold hands?”
“Pretty’s the sticking point, innit?” Sundara said.
“What do you mean?!” Mardan asked.
“Look, your rags don’t match. The brownish-red top clashes with the brownish-green overalls -which you don’t even have buttoned, why not just wear jeans- and I can’t say I much approve of…” Sundara motioned to Mardan’s bare midriff. “This.” Mardan gasped and threw a hand to her chest. “Although that may just be my upbringing. It really makes no matter either way. I’ve only taken you outside to get twenty dollars from the owner. And now I’ve done that, so I really have no reason to be here.”
With that, Sundara turned to go back inside.
“Do you think I’m dangerous?” asked Mardan.
“Ah, no. You’ve just got a massive bladed stick and odd plant powers. Perfectly safe.” Sundara put his hand on the door handle, but couldn’t bring himself to open it. He looked back at Mardan’s face. Oh no. There they were. Those sad puppy eyes he was afraid he’d see. A look of childlike guilt sunk into her rounded cheeks.
“Do they think I’m dangerous?” asked Mardan, pointing to the people inside.
Sundara tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Well, I can’t let you wander back in. What… er… what did the vision quest tell you to do?”
Mardan shrugged and moved on. “It’s a little cryptic,” she said, stroking her chin, “the spirits gave it to me in a riddle: ‘In the land of endless snow and pine, you will find a new source of courage. Return to the village with this, and the rest of your journey shall be laid bare to you.’ I’m not sure what it means, but nothing cool has happened yet. I don’t even live in a ‘village’ like it says.” She just stood there for a while, letting the icy slush squish between her toes. “I want to go home! But if I come back empty-handed, everyone will know I failed.”
“What happens then?”
“I’m already such a failure at everything else. There’d be no reason to keep me around. I’d be all alone again.” Her head hung low, shaking a shower of dirt from her hair. Sundara thought he heard a sniffle against the howling blizzard. Then, her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Wait a minute! Maybe you’re the clue!” She grabbed Sundara by the wrist and started dragging him away from the lodge.
“Wait! Wait!” Sundara said, “That’s not likely.”
“You’re making me feel more confident just by standing there and doing nothing! Is this what therapy feels like?” Mardan shook her head, her blond curls bouncing around her face. “I’m getting sick of this snowy place. There’s nothing to do here!”
Just then, two men -though it was difficult to discern gender beneath the gas masks and full carapace armor- emerged from the forest. They carried high-powered military rifles. Steam rose from their Scoria-lined barrels. One had a short snow-camouflage cape draped over their shoulder. That one approached them.
“We’re looking for escaped fugitives,” they said, their voice unrecognizable beneath the layers of air filters and obfuscating voice modulators, “Have you seen anyone suspicious?”
“No one more sus than you,” Sundara replied in an unexpected surge of confidence.
“Thanks for your help,” they said in their robotic-toned voice. The two figures brushed past Mardan and Sundara into the establishment.
“Are you a real person?” asked Mardan.
Sundara shook himself out of his fear-induced paralysis. “What do you mean?”
“No one says something that cool and subtle just off the cuff!” She bounced between the balls of her feet like a little kid hopped up on sugar. “You’re some kind of quote-robot. A quote-bot! Or some kind of one-liner wizard. A mage of mockery. A-”
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Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
Iota (Part 4)
Ashiko glanced out the window and saw the sloped helmets and carapace armor of two Blitztruppen soldiers. She quickly balled up her winter cloak, which bore the crest of the Zausch family, and tossed it beneath her barstool. There was no telling whether they were friendly soldiers or disguised saboteurs. She laid her head down on the bar like a sad drunk and pretended to be asleep. The door opened with a pleasant little jingle and a fearsome howl of wind. All other talk in the lodge fell silent. Their footsteps came slow and heavy, Scoria-infused ceramic plates subtly clinking against the aramid-spandex undersuit as they drew closer and closer to the bar.
“Ma’am,” the first soldier said, “we’re looking for escaped fugitives. Have you seen any suspicious people?”
“Huh?” asked the owner, donning the persona of a truly old woman, “I don’t hear too good ever since my ears was perforated in the War.”
“What war?” the second Blitztruppen asked the first.
“She’s senile, just go with it,” said the first. She took off her gas mask, issuing a sharp hiss from the depressurization. “Can you hear me now?” Without the voice modulation, Ashiko could hear a clear Kuste accent. These weren’t disguised agents. These were her countrymen, then…
“Crystal clear. Five by five, Operatorino!”
“Good. We’re looking for escaped fugitives. Has anyone suspicious been through here?”
“Ah… Oh yeah, I did see a couple folks like that!” Ashiko clenched her jaw and waited for the owner’s profession of her guilt. “They passed through here just a while ago. Took their drinks with them down the road. I gotta buy two more glasses now, the rat bastards!”
“And by any chance, were either of these Kinzokan?”
“No, I don’t recall…”
“Good. That makes one less loose end.” There was a shifting of plates behind her. “We’ll be on our way. Thank you for your help.” The footsteps grew quiet, but Ashiko waited until she heard the bell of the door until she raised her head. When she did, she met the troubled gaze of the owner.
“Ma’am, I don’t claim to know what sort of situation you’re in,” she told her, “But I can sense you’ve got a good heart. Call me crazy, but I trust it more than the words of a couple shifty-looking fellas with guns.”
“Those aren’t just thugs who stole some armor,” Ashiko explained, as her mind raced from terrifying thought to horrifying conclusion, “Those are real Blitztruppen. Those are my countrymen! If they’re killing survivors from that crash, then… I should go.”
“Hold on. I think my granddaughter has some clothes that might fit you. Can’t have you escaping these tin-suits in pajamas now, can we?”
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Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
Iota (Part 5)
“...A zinger-slinger! A wisecrack crack-shot!” Mardan continued, “A quip king-”
The two armored figures walked back out the door, silencing Mardan to a frightened squeak. Now that the one with the shawl was unmasked, they could see the scar running from her blood-red hairline to her chin. The two muttered something to each other that neither Sundara nor Mardan understood and put their gas masks back on. All Sundara caught was something he reckoned was a name: “Kriegshund Einz.”
“I don’t know about you,” Sundara said a little louder than normal, “but I’m freezing my toes off out here. D’you think we should head inside?”
“I’m fine,” Mardan said with a shrug and a smile, squishing her feet into the warming slush beneath her, “I can bring the warm-ness cloud over there, if you want.” The soldiers continued down the highway, making an extra effort to ignore what they likely saw as awkward flirting.
“Come on!” Sundara said in a whispered hiss, “We’re not safe out here!”
“Oh, okay!” Mardan said, not reciprocating the whisper. She grabbed Sundara by the wrist and dragged him into the lodge.
Suddenly, the door flew open, smacking into Mardan and startling Sundara. Ashiko came out, no longer wearing her snow-soaked pajamas. Sundara had no idea where she got them, but now she had an old canvas jacket pulled over a threadbare flannel shirt, faded jeans, and a pair of well-worn hiking boots. She slung a small backpack over her shoulder and quickly waved to the lodge’s friendly clientele.
“We need to leave!” Ashiko said, grabbing Sundara by the shoulder and directing him toward the road.
“New look?” asked Sundara.
“That lady is the most generous person on Iota.” Ashiko’s gaze dropped to Mardan, who was rubbing the bruise the door handle left on her lower ribs. “You’re still here?”
“Mhm,” Mardan said with a nod, “I’m coming with you.”
“She’s coming with us?” Ashiko asked Sundara. Sundara just shrugged. “What’s your name?”
“Mardan.”
“I’m Ashiko.” She gestured down the road after the two soldiers. “Those two could come back at any moment. We have a chance to make it out of here alive. Let’s make it count.”
“Ooh! Hey!” Mardan raised her hand and bounced up and down. “I know a place we can stay out of sight!”
“Perfect,” Ashiko said, “Take us there. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”
“Oh, of course!” Mardan said, “Those guys gave me the creepy-jeepies. It’s right over here, in the woods!”
Sundara and Ashiko shared a look. “Creepy-jeepies?” said Sundara. Ashiko just shrugged.
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Previous Chapter
Iota (Part 6)
The “place” Mardan was referring to turned out to be a cave covered by a curtain of snowy vines. Mardan pushed back the curtain and waved her luminous glaive around to light up the darkness.
“Just making sure no bears moved in since I left,” she said, looking back at the other two, “Normally, they wouldn’t be a problem. I like bears, and they like me. But with all the commotion going on, they might be spooked enough to attack us on sight.”
To distract herself from the fact that she was sitting in a damp, dark cave, Ashiko checked the time on her phone. Surprisingly, the cave had a good signal. Maybe even good enough to…
Ashiko dialed up Prince Evander’s number and waited with bated breath as the phone rang back into her ear. The answer was what she had expected, but feared nonetheless: the automated voice telling her the prince’s number was unavailable.
“Can’t expect anything to be easy, can I?” she said to herself. She laid out the bedroll strapped to her new backpack and pushed it over to Sundara, who was trying to make himself comfortable on the stone floor, warming up beside a small fire Mardan had built. The light of Mardan’s glaive cast her shadow around the corner as she checked deeper in the cave for more bears. Wordlessly, he scooted onto the padded canvas and nodded at Ashiko in appreciation. Ashiko wrapped her winter cloak around her for extra warmth.
“Where to next?” asked Sundara, “You know these countries better than I do.”
“I’m going back to the Zausch Estate,” Ashiko said, “That’s where I’ll find my answers… I hope.”
“Where can we be safe from… those folks?”
“The Blitztruppen?” said Ashiko, “Once we get to Kustestade, we’ll be in their territory. We’ll want to get out of there as soon as we can. Flugstadt has a good airport. Once I’m finished at the Estate, we can probably hitch a ride out of there to… anywhere else, really.”
“Good,” Sundara said, “That’s a plan I can get behind.” He looked over to Ashiko. He was cold and damp from the heavy dusting of snow on his shoulders. “You wouldn’t happen to have another blanket for that bedroll, would you?” Ashiko unfurled her cloak and draped it over Sundara’s shoulders.
“It gets really warm,” she said, smoothing out the flag of Kustestade embroidered on the back. “By the way, I totally would have gotten myself killed back there if you hadn’t stopped me. I owe you one.”
“I’m sure I’ll owe you back soon enough.”
A bright blue light came around the corner. “Uh, guys,” said Mardan, “There’s something back here.”
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Previous Chapter
Heriotzan Horror Hunters (Part 1)
Marcela’s shaky fingers pushed bullets into a magazine. The bucking of the pickup truck on the uneven ground made it worse. Today was the first time she would be allowed to go out with the hunters. She was determined not to show her fear, but her hands were betraying her!
“Need a hand?” came a voice from across the truck bed. Marcela looked up from her work, accidentally releasing the magazine spring and spilling bullets all over the bed. Sitting across from her was Salvador, a hunter no more than two years her senior. Short curls of hair peeked out from beneath a fur-lined cap. He held a rifle similar to hers: a surplus battle rifle from a previous war. It must have been Moltavian. Apart from the fact that it was painted with a desert khaki finish, it had a distinctive carrying handle and a push-button bolt release.
“No,” Marcela lied, “I can handle myself.” She bent over to pick up her bullets.
“No no no,” Salvador said, “There’s no shame in asking for help.” He picked up the rest of her bullets and took the magazine from her hand. “This is your first hunt, yes?”
“It is.”
“You’re already doing much better than I did.” Salvador laughed. He gracefully thumbed the bullets into the magazine, one by one. “I threw up on my first hunt. Coffee and bocadillos all over the back of this very truck! In fact, I think you’re sitting where it landed.”
Marcela shifted over to the other side of the truck. Salvador handed back her magazine, now fully loaded.
“Thank you,” Marcela said.
Suddenly, the truck stopped. The two other trucks stopped next to it. Marcela and Salvador were about to hop out when the driver stuck his hand out the window.
“Wait!” she hissed, “Shh!”
All three trucks turned off their engines. Marcela changed her breathing, taking in small shallow breaths through her mouth to reduce the sound in her head. She kept her ears open to all the sounds of the plains. Short, dry grass rustled in the whistling wind. The loudest sound was Marcela tracing her hand up and down the handguard of her rifle, trying to find a good position to hold it.
Then, she heard it. Or rather, felt it. A tremor in the ground. A ripple passed under the line of trucks. Marcela looked down and noticed that they were parked on barren, rocky ground. Much harder than the soft soil ahead. Something to take note of for future hunts.
One of the hunters in another truck tossed a rock into the soil patch ahead of them. There was a thump as it hit the ground. Then, dirt spewed up from the ground like a fountain. Two sharp scythe-like appendages pushed out of the dirt, followed by two more, and a third pair, carrying a scaled body backed with chitin. A long neck held up a reptilian head. Mandibles clicked over a toothy jaw. Large beady eyes scanned the creature’s surroundings.
“Now!” shouted the driver of their truck. Marcela steadied her rifle on the top of the truck. She placed the notch of the front sight right over the half-insect, half-reptile monster. A volley of deafening gunshots tore into the creature. Bright green blood splattered across the ground. The creature charged toward them, letting out an unearthly trill. Two chitinous spikes flew out from somewhere in its carapace. The first one scraped along the truck to Marcela’s left. The second crashed right through her truck’s front window.
“Gah!”
Suddenly, the truck bed shifted. Marcela glanced down to see Salvador lying on his back, clutching his side. His shirt and jacket were stained red.
“Salvo!” she cried, “Are you alright?”
“Keep shooting!” Salvador grunted, “I’ve had worse.”
Marcela turned back to the creature, who was almost upon them now. It reared its head back like a wolf howling at the moon. When it brought its head back down, it let out a spray of acid from its mouth. Marcela covered her face. The few droplets that connected with her skin burned like hell. She heard the driver cursing in the front seat.
The creature still had its mouth open. Marcela focused her aim and dumped the rest of her magazine down its throat before it had a chance to turn away. The creature coughed up a few weak spurts of green blood and collapsed against the hood of their truck.
The dust settled, and the ringing in Marcela’s ears subsided enough that she could hear the voices of the other hunters.
“Ah, come on!” cried the driver, “The windshield, the paint! This will cost a fortune to fix!”
“Ayy! The newbie kills on her first hunt!” cheered one of the hunters in another truck.
Salvador patted Marcela on the back. “Good job! You’re… ow… you’re very good at this!” He looked at the bloody handprint he left on the back of Marcela’s jacket. “Oh. Sorry.”
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Marcela and Salvador had a couple extra passengers on the ride back to their camp. The body of the monster, apparently called a kruthik, was tied down in the bed of another truck. Salvador, freshly bandaged, now only grimaced at the other hunters talking about how he threw up on his first hunt.
Then, the camp came into view. Several large green tents were set up around a central open area. A full stove and oven were set up on one side of the camp. An older man stood there, chopping up vegetables for some kind of soup. The cook’s apprentice stirred a vat of broth, her hands unsteady on the unreasonably large spoon. The smell of calda Pelea hit the hunters. Right next to the old man was the tent where the monsters they killed were gutted and skinned. Across the camp, a woman surrounded by a crowd of teenagers wrote equations on a whiteboard. Two figures huddled over a table, picking around on a disassembled shotgun. Surrounding the tents was a wall of camper vans and RVs. All of them had been reinforced with steel plates and decked out with wood pallet watchtowers and floodlights. A single large generator hummed as it tried to keep all the machinery powered.
Marcela hopped down from the truck and offered a hand up to Salvador. “Need a hand, milady?”
“Shut your open sewer of a mouth,” grumbled Salvador, taking Marcela’s hand and letting her help him down. It seemed his wound had made him grumpy.
Several children ran up to the hunters.
“What’s that?”
“It looks like a bug.”
“Can I touch it?”
“No, no, no!” said another hunter, “Jara, where is your brother? He should have been watching you!” She took her child by the hand and led him back into the camp. Marcela’s gaze followed the mother until it fell upon a familiar sight. A man in a wheelchair sat off to the side. Smiling eyes peeked out from behind his round glasses.
“Papa!” Marcela said. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and strode across the campground to him.
“Mija!” Marcela’s father kissed her on the cheek. Then, he noticed the burnt splotches on her face. She winced with pain as he touched one. “Acid burns. Did that thing hurt you?”
“Not that bad.”
“I swear to Novus, if that kruthik laid a finger on you, I’d grow working legs and stomp down its whole hive.”
Marcela laughed.
“It stabbed me!” Salvador said, “It laid a finger on me, Señor Andrade!”
“Yes, yes, whatever,” Sr. Andrade said, not even looking at Salvador, “Who struck the killing blow?”
Marcela waited a moment for dramatic effect. “Me!”
Sr. Andrade’s eyes lit up. “No!” he gasped.
“Yes! I killed it!”
Sr. Andrade cackled like a madman. “I always said my daughter was a natural-born hunter! I’m so proud of you, mija!” He looked into her eyes, and a pensive look came over him. “I’ve told you how I feel about my… situation.” He gestured to his legs.
“Yes, Papa,” Marcela said.
“I was born this way. I was never fit to be a hunter. Not just my legs. Look at these hands!” He held up his hands. His fingers were long and thin. They looked like they would break if he ever tried to pull a trigger. Marcela knew better, of course. Every good hunter knew that looks were deceiving. “But if I may indulge in some selfishness…”
“Of course, there’s plenty of selfishness to go around.”
“Seeing you doing what I could not, and not only that, but also enjoying it! It makes me feel like I’m providing for the tribe. Like I’m less of a burden.”
“Oh, you’re not a burden, Papa!” Marcela groaned, “You have to stop thinking like that! You’re the smartest person in this tribe.”
“A trait I passed on to you, it seems. You have your mother’s strength and your father’s smarts. But that good heart of yours, that’s your own, querida.”
Marcela looked over at the truck where two of the hunters were unloading the kruthik carcass. She turned up her nose at the smell.
“Since you scored that kruthik,” Sr. Andrade said, “I suppose you should get to cleaning it.”
All the blood drained from Marcela’s face. In her joy over her first hunt, she forgot the rule: “If you kill it, you clean it.”
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Part 2 when it comes out:
“The people who hurt you are our distant ancestors.”
“Your people still hurt my people. You build castles on land that isn’t yours, reap crops that you did not sow, and come to us only when you need strong bodies to line your weak borders. The legacy of your hatred lives on to this day. The wounds you cut upon the body of Vaktarheim are still wet with blood.”
Iota (Part 7)
“Uh, guys,” said Mardan, “There’s something back here.”
“Is it a bear?”
“No, it’s not an animal. It’s… just come and see.”
Mardan’s voice didn’t have its usual excitement. Instead, she sounded somewhat frightened. Ashiko and Sundara followed her deeper into the cave, until the blue light of her glaive was matched by a strange blue glow from a set of runic patterns on the back wall of the tunnel. The glow didn’t come from Scoria. It looked almost like the phosphorescent glow of a deep-sea jellyfish. The black surface the runes were etched into felt smooth like glass to Ashiko’s touch, but it was completely opaque. It was almost like a massive screen.
“Did you not notice this when you came before?” asked Sundara.
“No, it wasn’t there before!” Mardan said, “I think it was when you used your cell phone.”
“My cell phone?” asked Ashiko.
"When you made your call, suddenly the whole rock wall just turned into this thing.”
“Do either of you read runes?” asked Ashiko.
“Not a bit,” Sundara said.
“I’ve never seen these letters before,” said Mardan, “but I can read this language. It’s not Iotan, but it’s in my brain somehow.”
“What does it say?”
“It doesn’t translate directly, but it’s some type of warning. Almost like police tape. It’s something about detecting a signal.”
“You have police where you come from?” Sundara asked.
“Yeah. We have plumbing, too.”
She reached out to touch it. The temptation was too difficult to resist. Like a bald man’s shiny head, it was ripe for the touching. As her fingertips made contact with the smooth surface of what was once a wall, the black material bristled and boiled around her touch. Her hand passed right through the barrier, her momentum carrying her body through the rest of the way. Ashiko reached out to grab Mardan, and her metal fingertips sunk into the reformed black shell. The strange semi-liquid material pushed her fingers back out and closed itself again.
“Mardan!” Ashiko said, “Mardan, can you hear me!” She slammed her metal fist into the glassy black surface, but that did little more than dent her knuckles. She threw her weight against it, but the wall didn’t move an inch. She looked back at Sundara. “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?”
“How do we help?” Sundara said, “We should get back from that thing before it swallows one of us!”
“Is that all you care about? Yourself? Survival?”
“Yes, actually. It is.”
“So if you were Mardan right now, you’d want me to leave you in there?”
“No!”
“You!-” Ashiko stopped herself. Her finned ears laid flat against her head. Arguing would get them nothing but wasted time. She rewound her mental tape-player and reviewed what had happened. “Why did Mardan fall right through it, but we couldn’t follow her? Well, I couldn’t follow her. You were over there.”
“Was that a rhetorical question or do you want my two pence?”
“I have a few ideas, but I want to hear yours first.”
“I think we should leave.”
“Shut up and get me a blowtorch! We’re melting her out of there.”
“Where are we going to find a blowtorch around here?”
“I’ll make one!”
“HOW?!”
“I’LL FIGURE IT OUT!”
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For fucks sake, I thought we were over this already. STOP. Chloe has been punished enough. Nobody wants another Chloe torture episode. NOBODY.
SEASON 6 SPOILERS BELOW... AGAIN.
And there goes what little solace I got from the end of "Revolution".
The hammer of the Gods Will drive our ships to new lands To fight the horde Singing and crying Valhalla, I am coming!
This GIFset is for dyinghistoric who loves the crazy and awesome War Boys of Mad Max: Fury Road.
I accidentally type some errors on this post. Sorry about that.
I just want say I love your blog and I don’t think what I’m about to tell you is a question but I don’t know what’s Thomas going for Zoe’s character (besides having to show the audience and the people who like Chloé including myself that Zoe is better than her. I have no hate towards Zoe or anything) but if Zoe is a self insert character, I think it can work if it was done right. Here’s an example, Dib Membrane from Invader Zim. He’s a self insert character made from the creator Jhonen Vasquez. The reason why Dib works as self insert character is because he’s shown to be very flawed character instead of being a perfect Gary Stu. The show gets to contrast both Dib and Zim on their motivations and how they’re both want the same goal. Zim wants to invade earth and prove to his Tallests that he’s a good invader while Dib wants to save earth and prove to his dad that’s he isn’t crazy and that there’s some paranormal creatures that are not have been discovered.
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That’s a good example, and I never even knew Dib was based off the creator like that.
Why am I not surprised.
Oh yeah, why would any of us even think you based Chloe off a real person you used to know? It's not like you've said you did it before, like with Marinette's mom, right?
And also, for someone who says he loves Chloe, you really haven't thought twice about insulting other fans of the show who like her for different reasons or thought she had potential to be a great hero, throwing insults at the character herself, and trivializing domestic abuse and rape when talking about her fans.
I don't know about you, but I don't think I'd say things to other people who just so happen to like a character I obviously like and don't hate with a burning passion.