Synopsis: After hoodwinking Darkos, a holy priest, into escorting her back to her castle, Dark Enchantress Geela has one item left on her list: revenge on her ex-husband. With a confused Darkos in tow, she sets out. However, Geela isn't the only one with secrets. And Barney isn't the only old enemy who's about to get a visit.
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Geela sat in her cabins, furiously screwing magical latches into a pair of boots she’d been tinkering with on and off throughout the voyage. Darkos had wanted—no, demanded—that they stop at the next port for supplies. ‘Supplies’. Geela knew what he meant. He wanted to be able to walk without falling over. She understood, she really did. And she sympathized. Empathized, even, a sensation she rarely felt and rarely wanted to.
But she didn’t have to like it. Nor did she have to go ashore herself. So instead she fiddled with the instrument that, when complete, should help counter some of Darkos’s wobbliness. Given Darkos’s general deftness on land, she wasn’t dealing with fixing something internal. Providing him with a little stability should, at least, reduce his clumsiness to some staggering. Much better than having him scootch around the ship. It was a bad look for both of them. Besides, while Geela was more than capable of taking out merchants on her own, she was going to need him by her side when dealing with the twins.
As Geela finished an incantation on the laces of the boots, her eyes fell to the small satchel that she’d banished to the far corner of her room. The one she’d come to know as The Barney Bag. The one with the correspondences between her ex-husband and Nefaria. Darkos had, months ago, when they’d first started out, dreamt of a connection between Noire and Barney, and though Geela had since tried to dismiss the omen, she really couldn’t anymore.
She’d only read through a few of the letters but they made her stomach churn. The way Barney talked about her, the disdain, the mockery, the divulgence of personal secrets… It was enough to make her want to scream. It was also, apparently, enough to make Nefaria want to scream, as the woman had, several times, begged Barney to stop insulting Geela’s bedroom performance.
Barney,
Thank you for your latest update on how to spot Geela’s illusions. I’ve long been watchful of the couple that stops by so frequently with heavy suspicions about the Church of Celeste. With your information, I’m almost certain the woman is Geela in disguise. I’m speeding up my plan a bit and will continue to sow suspicion around the church. Let’s see if we can’t get her to break their faith ahead of schedule.
Meanwhile, there is something I must ask of you. Please please PLEASE stop giving me such in-depth descriptions of your ex-wife’s lack of proficiency in certain intimate settings. I cannot stress how little I care. As I do not plan on bedding her, these details literally could not be lower on the list of things I want to know. Please stop. I get it. You two have issues. I’m really not interested.
Cordially,
~ N. S. Keem
Nefaria had kept such detailed records that she’d even kept copies of her sent letters, which was endlessly helpful to Geela, even if it pained her to read them. She could only tackle them a bit at a time, but it had been a few days since she’d read any, so she really ought to…
But. Not today. She got seasick reading when the boat wasn’t moving. Besides, the sooner she got these boots working, the better.
They weren’t planning on staying at port very long, anyway. They planned to set sail an hour before sunset. The First Island Region was actually the smallest of the island regions, so even their capital city, Breezeport on the Island, was pretty tiny. With such a small city and such a short period of time, even Darkos couldn’t get in that much trouble.
--
“You said you paid for it!”
“I’m a pirate, lad! We lie and steal. It’s in our blood!” A series of explosive noises sounded as Geela watched Darkos and Saleman racing down the dock towards The Scilatia. “Just keep your little legs running!”
“My legs—” bang “Aren’t—” pow “Little!” crash.
Darkos could barely keep said legs moving as he and the burly pirate landed on the boat, about three minutes after their scheduled departure time.
“Geela! Get the boat going. Go go go!” Darkos panted the words before flopping down on the deck, beside a significantly less winded Sal.
“Poor man.” The pirate had a light blue bag slung over his shoulder and Geela cocked an eyebrow at it.
“What’s inside?” she asked, tapping a foot like a displeased parent.
Sal eyed the bag and then eyed Darkos, before smiling broadly. “The boy wanted to do some shopping. He likes his trinkets. I said I’d cover it.”
“That means pay for it.” Darkos’s words were a tad muffled given he was still facedown on the deck.
Geela rolled her eyes and looked up the ship at where Bob Grok was fidgeting with a spoke on the ship’s wheel, eager to get going.
“Alright, Bob!” she called up to him. “Let’s get this thing going!”
“Not so fast. These men— hey!”
Geela looked up from Darkos to see a unit of guards planted on the docks, their captain, the one who had spoken, looking furiously at the withdrawn gangplank.
“You can’t just— alright, stop your boat!” he ordered as the ship began moving, slowly at first, through the harbor. “Someone, stop them!” He started walking down the dock, never losing eye contact with an amused Geela.
“Something the matter, sir?” she asked, leaning on the rail so that she was spitting distance from the man.
“Your men stole several valuable items from the Artisan's Market!” The guard, saddled down by a good amount of armor, had broken into a jog, lifting his knees up high, to keep pace with the accelerating boat. “By the laws of the First Island Region—”
“We’re not in the First Island Region,” Geela said. “We’re not on the islands, after all.”
“You are still in our legal jurisdiction, ma’am!” His voice rose as he increased his gait to a run. “Our laws still apply.”
Geela scowled. “Well, I can’t claim to know too much about these legal minutiae. I tend to not pay much attention to them, personally. I can go below deck and do some research, but I fear by the time I get back up, we’ll be well out of your territory.”
He was starting to look panicked as the boat continued its acceleration and he was forced to sprint. “You must turn them over. Let me speak with your captain.”
Geela threw back her head and cackled. “Oh you poor, dear man. I am the captain.”
At this phenomenally timed revelation, the captain of the guards, eyes still fixed on Geela, reached the end of the dock and dashed right off. For just a moment, his eyes widened and bulged as he flailed through the air before landing with a great splash. His guards frantically began yanking their armor off as they dove in to rescue their misfortune leader.
A few stayed on the dock, shouting after the boat to come back, while Geela let out another peal of laughter.
“Let this be a lesson to you about dealing with pirates!” she shouted. “And consider yourselves lucky. Not every soldier who comes face to face with the Dread Pirate Ja’Eel lives to tell the tale!”
She wanted to add more, but they were too far away, and it would start to look embarrassing if she kept shouting when no one could hear her. So instead she waved and gave another laugh, before turning to Darkos, who was still face down on the dock.
“Well? What did you get?” she asked.
His voice, still muffled, wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the sound of the creaking boat, so she looked to Sally.
He grinned. “Well, you’re going to like some of these things, I think. Darkos got some specifically for you and your girl.”
Geela wrinkled her nose at the idea of Jane being her girl. “Eurgh. Probably another hat. Just show me the interesting stuff.”
This finally roused Darkos enough to pull his face from the floor. “No! I want to show her those over dinner. I’ve got a— remember? The presentation?” He eyed Sal dramatically before jerking a head at Geela.
Darkos really was a sweetheart. He knew how much she liked a show.
“Alright, alright, I’ll wait.” By now they were pulling out of the harbor and it had gotten dark out. “Dinner’s going to take a little longer tonight than usual. Mazy and Ru picked up some specialty items.”
“Making us some real fancy goop tonight?” Darkos sounded excited about the goop, something Geela could never quite manage. As good as it tasted, she just didn’t understand how the chefs could throw together tomatoes, pheasant, peanuts, coriander, noodles, fish sauce, shrimp, and bread and end up with grey goop.
Still, her stomach gurgled at the idea too. “I want to do a quick round before dinner anyway. Make sure everyone that I care about got on board.”
“Did the doctor make it?” Darkos asked. She knew he was still scared of the woman, but Doc Chop was an essential part of their crew, partly cause she kept them running and partly cause Geela had yet to find a way to investigate the woman’s enchanted prosthetics.
“Of course she did,” Geela said. “Heard her tapping around on deck earlier.” The sound of the woman’s left foot, which she’d replaced entirely with an onyx spike that ended in a fine tip, had been unmistakable.
Darkos shuddered. “I’d hate to meet whatever did all that to her.”
Geela exchanged an eyebrow raise with Saleman, who let out a burly laugh.
“You already have, lad,” he said.
Darkos looked startled at this. “Did one of the pirates… oh. Oh yikes.” He wrinkled his nose. “Yikes.”
Geela laughed, watching Darkos’s face as he slowly realized that every single one of Doc Chop’s modifications had been elective.
“Feels like that would hurt,” he said, voice quiet.
“Yes, well, I’m sure she knew what she was getting into.” Geela looked around the ship as the lights blinked on, one by one. “I suppose I’ll go to a round of the ship before dinner. Mazy said they’d be done just after sunset, which looks like it’s upon us.”
Sally squinted up at the sky as he reached down an arm to help Darkos off the ground. “Bit early, eh?”
Geela paused at this, looking around the boat. Yes. Yes, it did seem a bit early for sunset. She’d planned on leaving an hour before it grew dark, and while the two had delayed her slightly, it hadn’t been my more than a few minutes. They’d only been out of the harbor about ten or fifteen minutes.
Why was it so dark all of the sudden?
The shouts of her pirates, just a few at first, then more and more, louder and louder, pulled her attention to the right flank of the boat.
“Look, in the water!”
“Oh gods, it’s a whirlpool.”
“Idiot, whirlpools don’t work like that.”
“Something’s coming out of the water!”
This last shout was the closest to true. Geela reached the rail in time to see, only about a hundred or so feet out, the hull of a ship rising from the depths. With no time to lose, Geela raised a hand, triggering the transformation of her own boat. Whoever they were facing wasn’t going to catch her unawares.
“Man then cannons!” she shouted. “Bob, get them in place.”
By the time her transformation had completed, another ship had risen from the depths. Then another. And another. Soon a modest fleet of a dozen or so boats had risen up. They didn’t look much like The Scilatia, with its high masts and large hull. These ships were flat, low to the ground, with only their thin masts poking high above the water. They shifted in color as they made their way towards The Scilatia, camouflaging well with the sea.
Geela’s heart raced in her chest. It was time for a real fight, the one she’d been itching for for weeks now.
Atop the ship closest, stood a figure, near the front, holding onto one of the masts. As the boats grew closer, Geela pulled out her spyglass to make him out in better clarity.
The man looked to be in his late thirties, dressed lavishly in dark ruffles and a flashy hat, complete with more feathers than was really fashionably reasonable. His dusky skin was marked with thin, well-groomed facial hair, and he examined his nails disdainfully, even as the two boats grew closer.
“So that’s the void spawn?”
Geela turned to see the ship’s doctor by her side, staring intently at the oncoming armada. The bar that pierced the bridge of her nose emitted a sheen of light over her bronze eye.
“You can sense magic?” Geela asked.
“Through my enchantments. Yes. Yes, I can smell the stench of void magic as strong as on your frail friend.” Doc Chop fidgeted with a ring on her nose, nostrils flared. “He’s on one of the boats.”
Geela opened her mouth to say that she was pretty sure which boat Hari was on, when the man called out to the ship, his voice far louder than any natural human’s should be.
“Hail to you, Ja’Eel. And what brings you to my part of the ocean?” The ship was close enough that Geela could make him out without her spyglass, and now she saw the reason behind the doctor’s note.
Hari’s image flickered aboard the ship, as he spoke. It was an astral projection, a tear in the fabric of reality that allowed the man to press his soul through the tear, and to appear anywhere within a small radius of where he was.
“Can you tell which boat?” Geela asked.
The doctor shook her head. “No. There’s a mask. You can feel that I think?”
Geela could, actually. It was a feathery, smokey feeling, like cobwebs. Obscuration magic, a subset of illusions. Gross.
“Each ship has its own mask,” Geela said, as her eyes darted from boat to boat. “How many would we need to take down before you can identify the boat he’s on?”
The young woman fiddled with the bar, her pinkies tapping against them, a strange, whirring sound emitting as she worked.
“Wouldn’t work,” she said, after a moment. “My magic sensing is not that strong. The void magic, it’s just a smog over the boats. Would need a soul search. To pinpoint the location of an individual soul. That could break through the mask, yes?”
Yes. Yes she was right. Geela would need to search directly for Hari. They’d have to take down a couple of the boats in the meantime, weaken the mask, but searching for an individual’s soul would be targeted enough to pierce a breached mask.
So the plan was simple, then. Sink a boat, weaken the mask, search for Hari’s soul. Rinse and repeat until the obscuration was thin enough that she could see where he was. Then obliterate his boat and let him drown a fiery death.
Geela kinda liked it. It felt very high seas, very dashing pirate, very in line with the books her father used to read to her and Nelly when they were kids.
“Well?” Hari was close enough now that Geela could make out the thin wisps of hair that had escaped from the long black ponytail down his back. It wasn’t a bad look, so more likely than not, he’d let those strands of hair out on purpose. Oh, this man knew what he was doing. “I asked a civil question.”
“Get below deck,” Geela said to the doctor, voice quiet, lips still. “But pass a message to Bob to have his men fire as soon as they’re ready. Do not wait for my order.”
“As you order,” Doc Chop said, before vanishing from her side and limping off to the staircase.
“Ja’Eel—”
“Oh hush, would you?” Geela asked, tossing a lock of spectral hair over her shoulder, where it floated just an inch above her dress. “I’m trying to talk to my crew. Didn’t Noire teach any of its children manners?”
Hari blinked at her a few times, more amused than surprised. “No. I guess it was too busy teaching us all the crafts necessary to destroy the world. While you were busy learning—” he laughed, “manners, we were busy learning dark, arcane arts, the likes of which no mortal could ever contest—”
“Your sister died choking to death on a sandwich.” Geela sniffed. “I wasn’t all that impressed.”
“Well, Sinistrina was always—”
“Malevelo died in his sleep.” Geela picked at a nail, no longer looking at the pirate king. “That was after a sixteen-year-old girl crushed his energy crystal with a rock, sending him into a coma. Embarrassing.”
“His ambition was tempered by the need to harvest enough energy to bring the rest of us through.” Hari sounded annoyed now. “And he was—”
“Nefaria—sorry, ‘Fairy’—was eaten by a blood witch.” Finally, Geela let her eyes slowly look over the well-groomed, clearly-interested-in-theatrics void spawn. “I wonder how you’ll go.” A smile crept up the side of her lips. “Eaten by a fish, maybe? I think that would be fitting.”
Hari had just about had it with Geela, and he raised a fist in the air. A long spear of dark energy materialized in his hand.
“Super Void Death Spear… Atta—”
He almost got the word finished. Gosh, the boy was so close. But just as he wound back to throw the spear directly through Geela’s chest, the boat erupted with a series of explosions so loud that Geela was pretty sure she’d never hear again. And the worst part was that she couldn’t cover her ears as the cannonballs smashed into the ship a mere dozen feet away. No, that wouldn’t be a good look, and if this void spawn wanted to duel her in dramatics, she had to stay impassive.
Geela had definitely won this particular duel, and she allowed herself a sympathetic wince as a cannonball plopped through Hari’s outraged astral projecting, causing him to sputter out and vanish. The fleet, apparently uncertain of what quite to do now, began to tuck tail and run. As they picked up speed, still peppered by Geela’s cannons, and leaving their downed comrade behind, Geela sprinted down the length of the ship, til she had reached the very tip of the long bowsprit at the front of the boat.
“Hari!” she called, letting her own augmented voice echo out over the dark seas. “Where are you going, Hari? Not ready to play yet?”
“Curse you, Ja’Eel!” cried a voice back, cracking through the sky like thunder. “Curse you and your damned crew. We shall return.” With this, his fleet bucked and submerged, and within a few minutes, nothing left of the fleet other than the one sinking ship remained.
“Excellent,” Geela said, rubbing her hands together, eyes fixed on the spot where the ships had vanished. “We’ll be waiting.”
HUGE news everyone, for those who didn't see it on my subreddit...
GEELA IS GETTING PUBLISHED!!!
I've been working with a press over the past few weeks, negotiating a contract, but I signed the deal! Come April, The Extramundane Emancipation of Geela, Evil Sorceress at Large will be a traditionally published novel.
This has been a real goal of mine since I was ten years old. It honestly hasn't even fully sunken in yet.
I really owe you all a lot for your support, kind words, comments, reviews, and just for sticking with me this whole time, through two moves, a surgery, and so so so many more trials and tribulations.
I hope it's been worth it for you. I know it has been for me <3

Book 1 of The HEL Jumper
Year 2 of The HEL Jumper
Year 3 of The HEL Jumper
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Thanks to Big_Papa_Dakky, Darth_Android, bloblob, AMERICUH, Ironwing, Krystalin, Mamish, Vikairious, Sam_Berry, KillTech, LilLaussa, Daddy_Talon, Gruecifer, Gaelan_Darkwater, Konrahd_Verdammt, red-shirt, DaPorkchop, Benjamin Durbin, Siddabear, and everyone supporting me on Patreon.
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“You alright? Physically, I mean,” Russell asked as he and Thantis returned to the village alone on the shuttle that had brought them to the Forge. “The old ticker’s not going to give out or anything?”
Thantis blinked a couple times as he extracted himself from the depths of whatever train of thought had occupied him for some time. Needless to say, the trip back had not featured lighthearted education regarding the nature of Mara’s core. “It was certainly a stressful situation, wasn’t it? I thank you for doing all of the heavy lifting, Winters.” He left out the fact that they both knew he’d have been left behind otherwise.
“Don’t mention it. That’s literally the sort of thing I trained to do and you’re lighter than a fellow soldier. Would have been really nice to stick around and take a dip in the hot springs, but something tells me that goes against the new ‘don’t interfere with the planet’ policy.”
‘Not that you didn’t enjoy them to your fullest before the rest of the crew got here,’ Io reminded him with a pointed gaze. Russell cleared his throat and let that particular memory lay dormant.
“A day of rest will be more than enough. But you’re sure everything’s alright on the inside, Thantis?”
“You are kind to ask, Winters. Thankfully, my difficulties at the moment remain in the realm of the mental and spiritual. Much happened that I am having difficulty making sense of.”
“You’re not the only one,” Russell assured him as the shuttle shuddered almost imperceptibly, a friendly reminder that they were traveling through air instead of gliding through space. “At least we didn’t break the place.”
‘On the outside, you mean,’ Io clarified in an agitated tone. She was equally as upset about the day’s events as Thantis. ‘We have no idea if anything is left standing on the inside, not to mention that the robot will likely never re-activate even if the facility didn’t self-destruct or otherwise dangerously terminate its own functions. This is the worst day for science since the Lancer was lost. And that was a very bad day for science!’
“You mean other than the fact that we can get home and tell the rest of humanity what happened here, along with everything else we’ve discovered?” Russell observed sharply. “Let a team of archaeologists deal with it. Later.”
Io, who was using the B-MASS in order to be present for both Winters and Thantis, looked to the side and let out a long breath, acknowledging that the current moment might not have been the best time. ‘Yes, later is a good idea, sir. I think we should all give thanks that we will not be giving Veera or Gentia any reason to weep this evening.’
Russell and Thantis shared a look, agreeing that even if Io’s words were true, that wouldn’t be the end of it. The Jumper cleared his throat. “Yeah, no tears. But that doesn’t mean she won’t be mad as hell.”
“You are forgetting a healthy helping of ‘I told you so’,” Thantis added, finally allowing a real smile to shine through the clouds of his tested faith. “A word of advice, Winters?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Cave early and cave often,” the Cauthan said with a wink, giving Russell a hearty chuckle as Io nodded approvingly. “Among other things, I find that’s been a constructive cornerstone of my long life with Gentia.”
‘While I’m very much in agreement regarding the capitulation to the needs and wants of the important women in one’s life,’ Io began, batting her eyelashes at Russell as though he needed some sort of reminder that she was such a woman. ‘Gentia and Veera may need to wait. I just received word from the Admiral, sir. He’s on his way to the village and intends to meet us there.’
“For what purpose?” Winters asked curiously. Io made a little show of opening a letter and reading the message within.
‘In his words? Examining primary sources.’
-----
True to his word, Natori was there to greet them when Russell and Thantis’ shuttle set down just outside the western gates. Thanks to his arrival there was already plenty of commotion, adding to the hectic Cauthan harvest season as males and females both hustled to and fro in the fields, plucking ripened produce just before the point of spoilage. The tall, ebony skinned human offered his hand to Thantis as the shuttle’s doors opened upward with an audible hiss. “I am glad to see you are well, my friend. Would you believe that our esteemed colleague Qul’Roth sends his regards and wishes you ‘good health in the name of the Order’?”
‘I wouldn’t,’ Io replied immediately, nevertheless allowing Thantis to answer on his own.
“That is very kind of him. If you would convey my thanks when you return?”
“Happily, Thantis. It sounds to me as though the two of you had quite the little adventure. Lieutenant,” the Admiral addressed Russell and the two men exchanged salutes.
“That’s certainly one way of putting it, sir. What can we do for you?” he asked, waving to a villager who called out in greeting as he passed, a wooden tool for unearthing dato in his paws.
“I believe we speak to Antoth first. I admit that I may have spooked him a little by returning to the village so soon after my last departure. All that I could tell him was that something unexpected happened at the Forge, but that the two of you were unharmed. While I wait on the lead researchers and Lance Corporal Mendes to pen their official reports, I figured it might be wise to hear of events the old fashioned way. Shall we?” he suggested, sweeping an arm behind him towards the village. A particular striped Cauthan was, of course, awaiting them there. She was not pleased.
“Ah, perhaps an explanation for your wife is in order too?” Natori suggested, understanding that his presence was likely a significant contributor to Veera’s serious demeanor.
“If it’s the same to you Admiral, I think it’s best I handle this alone,” Russell replied, leaving Thantis’ side and walking up to Veera. She tilted her head slightly to maintain eye contact, her expression one of expectation as she waited for him to begin. “Listen Veera, I know it looks bad but-”
“Did you know that Fenrir’s figured out where all of the meat is stored?” she demanded suddenly, causing Russell to stick his neck out and cock his head in confusion.
“I’m sorry, he what?”
“He found me on patrol this afternoon with a chesko sausage hanging from his mouth and a very pleased expression on his face,” Veera explained, a hand on her hip. “I had to go to the temple of Valta and compensate them!”
“Oh boy. I’m sure Ratha was thrilled,” Russell responded, a nervous pit in his stomach as he considered how much mayhem Fenrir could get up to.
“She’s going to kill him if this continues!” Veera insisted. “Just please tell me you didn’t teach him to do this!”
“Why would I teach Fenrir to steal meat from the one place in town that would get him riddled with arrows?!” Russell demanded, feeling he had some small, slight justification for taking offense.
“Because sometimes you do silly things!” Veera replied as though it were obvious before visibly deflating. “We have to do something, Russell.”
“We will, sweetie. We’ll give him a bit more food at meals and maybe see about keeping some sort of muzzle on him when he’s around town. I can take him hunting again soon too,” the human suggested, silently forgiving his wife her mild hysteria. Ratha’s opinions regarding Veera and hyrven were both well known. His proposal mollified her, and she embraced him to welcome him home.
“I knew everything was alright the moment you and Thantis showed up unharmed. I suppose the Admiral being here means you will have some meeting with Antoth, but I’m glad you’re alright,” she told him. He hummed in her ear and left a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Yeah, things didn’t go as planned but everyone made it out safely. If it’s all the same to you, I think when this is done I’d much rather focus on making sure our pet doesn’t become a pelt,” he replied.
“As long as you admit that I told you so,” Veera said. “That place was obviously nothing but trouble from the very beginning.”
‘Are we going to continue overlooking the part where we can safely travel back to Earth now?’ Io demanded, having observed the married ‘spat’ for long enough. Veera’s eyes widened in surprise.
“We can… you did it?” she gasped.
“I sure as hell didn’t,” Russell clarified quickly. “But something happened that deactivated whatever process was going on in there. Io’s right. The warp point is clear and at some point soon I have to imagine Natori is going to take his ship home.”
Veera found herself caught flat footed by the news, looking down at the earth beneath her feet as a sudden trepidation struck her. They had talked about Russell’s eventual departure many a time over the seasons she’d known him, but it was always a hypothetical, an occasion far down the line. That line seemed soon to end. “So I… have to leave?” she questioned.
“Veera, I need to go meet with Antoth and the Admiral. When I’m done we’ll sit down and have a long talk about this, ok? If things have changed and you really want to stay, there may be a way to do that,” he explained.
“But your family! Your parents!” Veera exclaimed before cutting herself off, noticing Thantis and Natori waiting at a polite distance for them. “You’re right. Please don’t take long.”
“We won’t. Where’s the little troublemaker now?” Russell wondered.
“I sent him off into the forest after his little snatch and grab. So he’ll probably be back for dinner.”
“Count on that hyrven to never miss a meal. Alright love, I’m glad you and he are ok. See you soon?”
Veera took his hands in hers and nodded. “Offer Antoth your guidance, Russell. You are the only human he can trust.”
Though Russell’s first inclination was to protest, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that even someone as forward and open as Natori could possess his own interests and agenda. He hummed low in his chest and agreed with a nod of his head. “I will, Veera.”
-----
“Walk me through it one more time?” Antoth requested, running a hand through the feathers atop his head as he, Thantis, Russell, and Natori were seated within the temple of Kel. Xan was there too, finding himself in the position of scribe as Thantis was an involved party in the Forge incident.
“As I said, Antoth, the Cauthan made from metal visited us while we were exploring the main chamber,” Thantis recounted. “It was clearly female, given the plumage, but how such a thing could possibly exist is beyond me. I am unsure whether it was a servant of Kel, Tyrdus, or neither. While there were many of us there, it chose to approach me specifically and attempted to communicate. I, regretfully, did not understand anything it said to me, either with its voice or its feathers.”
“Yes, I got that part,” the chieftain clarified in a patient tone. “It is what comes afterward that puzzles me.”
“You’re not the only one,” Russell agreed before allowing Thantis to continue the tale from his perspective.
“I attempted to speak to the metal being, requesting information about its nature, which of the gods it served. I believe I mentioned Kel and Meylith specifically, Antoth. When it replied to me it was no clearer than when it first spoke, but I do believe it was a reply instead of some unrelated statement.”
“Because it repeated the word Kel to you,” Antoth finished.
“Precisely. That is when a great many things began happening all at once. Spirit Io tells me that some sort of invisible disturbance began within the Forge, something powerful. The entire place began to shake violently, and the great weapon that the humans believe was causing the corruption plummeted into the abyss below. It was then that the metallic being collapsed. I attempted to revive it, or at least ascertain what had happened but the humans deemed the situation too dangerous at that point. Winters carried me from the facility as I was unable to move fast enough.”
Antoth glanced over at the Jumper. “I find myself in the position of thanking you yet again, Winters. However, given that Thantis would have never been in danger in the first place if not for your discovery, I will not go so far as to say either of us are in your debt.”
“That’s the least of my worries, Antoth, but thank you,” he replied as Natori spoke up.
“Antoth, I believe that certain subjects we have discussed in the past must now be brought to the fore again. While departure is not imminent, as soon as my crew determines we can safely leave your planet we will begin preparing a timetable to do so. Assuming your invitation to my crew regarding your harvest festival still stands, I think it would be a crime to pass up such an opportunity for cultural exchange. Once it is concluded, I cannot envision a scenario where we remain much longer.”
“I understand,” Antoth said, adjusting his posture as he stretched and stood sternly near one of Thantis’ many shelves full of dried herbs and scrolls. “My invitation to your people remains, however I reserve the right to revoke it at any time if I feel there is a need. I think we should table that discussion for another time. Right now I need to ruminate on the situation at hand. Kel refused to open his gate to your people, even Winters, but he did so for his servant among our own. This is… a curious omen.”
Russell shook his head in discomfort as Io began to practically vibrate with excitement, causing a bit of feedback in his earpiece. Having dealt with her, he addressed the two leaders. “Antoth, I’m happy to stay if you wish but I should get home if not. It sounds like Fenrir was up to no good today.”
“I don’t know about it and assuming the situation is under control I’ll be happy not to know about it,” Antoth replied, making it clear in his tone that he expected Winters to exert said control over the situation. “If Thantis and I need to speak with you we will find you.”
“Understood. Admiral Kaczynski, sir?”
The Admiral instead looked at Antoth. “Is there anything else you wished to discuss so long as I am here?”
“The food situation,” Antoth replied immediately, glancing at Xan. Natori nodded.
“I must admit that over the short period of time since we last spoke I have not received any updates myself. However I would be happy to escort Xan or someone else from your village up to the Event Horizon to inspect the current crop personally.”
“Then you should go, Xan. If we will not receive armor or weapons we should at least ensure this food is suitable when grown far from Mara’s soil. Will there be any issues?” he finished on a considerate note.
“No Antoth, I’d be happy to. I should grab a couple of things and let my family know where I’ll be though,” the young scholar explained.
“Very well, you are dismissed.”
“My shuttle will be waiting at the western gate,” Natori advised the young Cauthan. “First Lieutenant, I do not wish to keep you too long but I would appreciate it if you and Io would accompany me that far.”
“Yes sir,” Russell replied, seeing no reason to protest. “Selah, Thantis. Today was quite the adventure.”
“I shall remember it for the rest of my life,” Thantis agreed, his customary demeanor returning as a ‘smile of knowledge’ spread across his muzzle. “And while that may not be a particularly strong statement, I am sure that you will as well. Go in peace, everyone. Selah. Shall we summon the others, Antoth?”
“Not yet. Let us speak privately,” the burly Cauthan requested, indicating that he no longer needed the other three individuals in the temple. Xan packed up the scroll he’d been scribbling on and departed for his family’s home to the north while Russell and the Admiral headed west.
“Is your wife the only Cauthan with an understanding of English?” Natori began.
“So far as I know, sir,” Russell replied in a guarded tone.
“Excellent, then we can dispense with some of the secrecy. What is your opinion on taking this village back to Earth with us?” he wondered. Io was visibly restraining herself from answering for the both of them, but her opinions on the matter were obvious. Russell was more defferential.
“I think that’s a little bit beyond my pay grade, sir. On that subject, however, I need to know if there will be any problems in taking my wife aboard when we leave.”
“Yes well, if we take them all along with us I see no reason she couldn’t come too!” Natori replied in an almost obnoxiously upbeat tone. “The formalities and paperwork will be handled either way in her case, Lieutenant, I assure you. But I do not wish to discuss formalities and rules today. I can do that with men like your father once we return home, and I get the sneaking suspicion there will be quite a few of those conversations. Your gut feelings on the situation will suffice.”
“I’d be worried about them if we left them here and I’d be worried if we took them along, assuming such a thing is even possible and they agree to it” Russell replied. “For every Cauthan like Gentia or Thantis who might jump at the idea, there will be Cauthan like Ratha who will surely object.”
“Undoubtedly,” Natori agreed. “But the conditions are such that they will be forced to answer that question, assuming my staff comes back to me and deems such a mission possible. From a human perspective, it is a clever workaround of many of the objections from our Ghaelen guest, objections that will be more difficult to ignore once he is returned to his people.”
‘Since simply removing the village from existence was his enlightened idea in the first place,’ Io quipped, using vicious air quotes to append the word ‘enlightened’. Natori chuckled heartily, waving cordially to a couple of farmers who looked their way at the noise.
“In defense of Emissary Qul’Roth, I am not sure I want to know what happens to Ghaelen who defy the Order,” Natori suggested. “But per your evaluation, Io, I see no reason not to make it our enlightened decision instead.”
“A decision to do what, exactly? Take them home and just turn them loose in a random city? Keep them in an HEL compound for years?” Russell demanded. Kaczynski stroked his chin.
“I need a shave I believe. And count on the Jumper to immediately identify all the ways in which a situation could go wrong. Before you object, I approve of the approach. Though if you’ve already moved on to that point I presume you would generally be in favor of the translocation?”
Russell organized his thoughts as the two men passed through the central square of the town, considering what it might look like in various settings he’d visited back home. “At least if they came with us and needed help I’d be able to do something.”
Natori looked at Winters out of the corner of his eye. In truth, the Jumper was not used to speaking with people taller than him. An uncomfortable reminder of days gone by being scolded by his father gave way to a desire to see the man again. “May I ask what you were planning to do upon returning to Earth, Lieutenant? If you remain at your current post I’m not sure you would be any more able to aid these Cauthan than if we left them here.”
That feeling of familial absence returned as Winters shook his head. “I didn’t give it much thought when I was aboard the Lancer, sir. Once I was here, worrying about it seemed pointless. I guess now’s the time to think about it again, but life’s already moved past that. Not sure I’ll leave the HEL, but when we get I’m going to turn in my wings, so to speak. The Jumper corps don’t need fathers. Doesn’t mean I’m not proud to have served as one of humanity’s most heavily armed bachelors.”
Natori laughed earnestly at the description. “Children really do change everything, don’t they?”
“You would know far better than I, sir. I’m just making assumptions. I want Veera to come with me, and that if she does I need to come home each night for several reasons. I normally wouldn’t talk to someone like you about these things, but I’m sure you’ll be in charge of accepting or denying that request when the time comes,” he added, trying to keep his tone from being standoffish. Natori seemed to find the comment entertaining, so he figured he’d succeeded.
“Yes I suppose it was a deviation into rather private affairs. You have my apologies, Lieutenant. You and your sister are so different, but I can see your father in the both of you. I cannot make any guarantees, but I will do what I can if you’ve decided that your future lies outside of the Jumper corps. If things play out the way I expect them to, you and I and Io may have a mutual interest in such an arrangement, lest you think I’m somehow trying to play father.”
“Thanks for the assurances, sir,” Russell replied shortly, only broadening Natori’s smile.
“Youth is wonderful, is it not? In any case, you have something like six months to consider these questions, plus however long it takes us to get our affairs in order and depart this planet. With the threat from the alien installation apparently gone, my curiosity as to its nature has only increased.” Natori paused for a moment before snapping his fingers as he remembered something. “I need an after action report from you within the next twenty four hours, Lieutenant. I am aware that you have duties that go a bit beyond those of the average Event Horizon crew member, but given the magnitude of the event you just bore witness to, I need to review evidence from every angle, every perspective. There is no telling what the twenty or so of you might have seen or not seen.”
‘Done,’ Io replied, making a show of procuring the necessary video and audio files along with a written report that literally materialized atop her open palm. ‘Anything else?’
“You’ll let me review it first before it’s sent to the Admiral,” Russell insisted in no uncertain terms. “And later, I want you to make sure Xan is alright when he’s aboard the Event Horizon. Veera and I need to talk things over.”
‘Yes I suppose you do,’ Io agreed, filing away the materials she’d produced for his review. She waved politely at Natori. ‘Admiral, I will speak with you again some other time.’
“A pleasure as always,” he replied before her projection winked away. “Thank you for your time, Lieutenant. I will be fine waiting for the young apprentice before heading back. In the coming days and weeks I hope you will keep in mind that I value your opinion as an expert on the Cauthan, even if I make decisions that conflict with your sensibilities.”
Russell took a moment to think through his reply, knowing well enough that the Admiral was not trying to patronize him. Natori took that time to look up at the gatehouse, nodding appreciatively at the construct of wood and packed dirt. “As long as you aren’t making decisions to appease the Ghaelen, sir, I can’t see myself raising any objections.”
Kaczynski hummed shortly in reply. “Fair enough. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Winters saluted silently and turned to head off along the road to the north, wondering how many more times he would walk along the rows of crowded homes, blockhouses, and rough drainage trenches.
----
The evening’s dinner preparation was a mostly silent affair. The crackling of firewood and the sound of a knife against wood, vegetables, and meat were comforting as he reviewed the full contents of Io’s report on the Forge incident. Every so often he made annotations, correcting Io’s propensity for flourish and embellishment. It had been a long time since he’d had to deliver such a report, and Io obviously found military language to be boring and trite. Between the two of them they soon had an acceptable product to send up to Natori’s bridge, along with the footage from his helmet cams. Task completed, Winters was free to address the question that had been hanging over both him and Veera for the entire afternoon. She was clearly as eager, or perhaps as nervous, as he, and he found her scrutinizing him from over the cooking pot.
“Hey there, I’m all finished,” he began, standing and moving to her side. “Do you need any help?”
“No, all of the heavy lifting is done. Just need to let it simmer for a while,” she told him, knocking a wooden spoon on the rim of the pot before taking a seat on one of their chairs. He joined her. “Your people will leave soon, and you’ll have to go with them.”
“Yeah, they will,” Russell agreed, taking her hand in his and giving thanks that they wouldn’t be beating around the bush. “I do want to go back, Veera. I haven’t seen my parents or my two other siblings for…”
Veera watched as her mate fell silent, his face looking far older than his actual age of twenty five as he counted the months. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” she asked compassionately.
“The Admiral managed to get them here in about three months, but I don’t think he would push things that hard on the return trip. All told, even if we left tomorrow and didn’t make any detours, it would probably be more than two years total by the time I get home. And for at least half of that time they’ll have lived without knowing whether I’m alive or dead.”
“It was clearly very hard for Alice,” Veera agreed, recalling the tearful scene from the bridge of the Event Horizon. “And she got to see you long before they will. You know I’ll still go with you, my love.”
“I know,” he affirmed, looking at the flames as they licked at the blackened exterior of the pot that had served them well for many months. “But I know things have changed here too. I know there’s a lot you would leave behind now so… I think we should talk.”
“About what, Russell?” she inquired. “I’m happy to talk about anything with you. We even vowed to do so in sight of the Mother, but it sounds like our path is already set.”
“Maybe, but when we get to Earth things need to change,” he explained. “I can’t… I won’t get sent off on another mission like this. Even if you weren’t pregnant there would be a question, you know? But now there’s no way I want you following me around on military ships, and no way I’m going to leave you after you give birth. So… I’m going to have to figure something else out. Even cabins in the mountains don’t build themselves, and the life of a recluse isn’t the sort of thing I’d want for our kids.”
To Russell’s surprise, Veera purred and nuzzled his cheek. She teased him gently. “Look at you trying to plan out our entire lives. I would never say no to you being in less danger.”
Russell placed an arm around her shoulder and rested his head against hers. “Is there a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”
“I was trying to be accommodating,” Veera pointed out. “But I would feel awful if you gave up something important on account of my pregnancy. It’s not like we planned for this.”
“No, we didn’t,” he agreed seriously, sitting up in his seat and rubbing the back of his neck. “But that doesn’t change the fact. Besides, there aren’t many people who remain soldiers forever. Even people like my father eventually take non-combat roles and desk jobs. It might not go exactly the way we expect, but I’m sure I can work something out within the HEL if the civilian life just isn’t for me.”
“Then it sounds like we don’t have much to worry about in terms of our family,” Veera summarized in a relieved tone before casting a glance at their entryway. “I will miss them, though.”
Russell exhaled and looked over at Io, taking up her usual perch at the foot of their bed. He raised his brows at her and she shrugged in return. “I might as well ask your opinion on it then,” he said.
“On what?”
“This is something Io and I have been thinking about for a while but never with any seriousness. Apparently Alice started thinking the same way and made a proposal to both Natori and Antoth the last time the two of them met.”
“Is that where you were called to?” Veera wondered quietly, taking a spoonful of stew and blowing on it until it was cool enough to taste. Satisfied with the blend of flavors, she grabbed two wooden bowls and began serving them both. “What is it that Alice was contemplating?”
“From the sound of it, taking you and every single Cauthan in this village back home with us to Earth isn’t a flight of fancy,” Russell explained. Veera paused with a ladle full of stew halfway between the kettle and her bowl.
“I- what? Is such a thing even possible?” she demanded aghast. Russell nodded, propping up one ankle on the opposite knee.
“Way I understand it, the Event Horizon is running with a skeleton crew, at least so far as non-military personnel are concerned. When they learned they were coming after me, that my ship had been lost, a lot of people who could chose to stay behind. There’s plenty of space so long as your people can handle space travel. Obviously we’ve already experimented with that a bit.”
“But why would they take us in the first place?” Veera asked suspiciously. “Here, eat while it’s hot.”
“Smells wonderful, thank you,” Russell replied, making sure to take a large bite and savor it for her edification before going on to explain some of the reasons humanity might see a vested interest in taking her village along. “From what I can tell it would actually resolve a sticking point with the Ghaelen regarding human influence on the village. The other reason, honestly, is that we want to.”
“And when we can no longer feed or clothe ourselves because we have left Mara we will be at your mercy,” Veera pointed out suspiciously. Io felt the need to step in at that point.
‘That is true, Veera. However what humanity can offer you in exchange would far exceed what you would lose. Imagine a world where one Cauthan, in someone like Anita’s position, could grow enough food to feed the whole village!’
“That sounds like a good excuse to sit around and grow lazy and fat, just like Vash,” Veera spat. Io recoiled indignantly as Russell waved his spoon her way.
“She’s got a point there, you know. Hey boy, get over here and sit! I heard you were bad today!” Russell commanded, distracted as none other than Fenrir chose that moment to arrive home, having no doubt followed the smells of cooking fires throughout the village. He ruffled the hyrven’s fur roughly before providing him with a plate of pre-cut chesko meat. It was a bit bourgeois to cut their pet’s steak, he knew, but both he and Veera considered bite sized pieces preferable to Fenrir flinging his dinner about the house like a barbarian intent on painting the walls red.
‘Now that the beastie has his dinner and I can defend myself, I can tell you that many humans choose to work jobs like those found at the temples of Tyrdus or the Twins, making things instead of growing things. That might not be a difficult transition. Even more choose to live like Thantis or Alice, devoting their lives to knowledge and its pursuit. And yes, per your conversation with Russell all the way back when you first met, there are some who engage in creating pornographic material and every other profession in between. Based on the amount of garbage I’ve scrubbed from the Event Horizon’s intranet there will be a market for Cauthan smut when we return to Earth one way or another, but I’d rather space my main processors than ruminate on that for too long. You are right, Veera. Being lazy, indolent, and fat is a temptation when you live in a land of plenty, but I think it is better than starvation, death by raider, succumbing to treatable illnesses, or freezing to death.’
“Not to mention there are plenty of human communities who prefer to keep to what they consider to be the ‘old ways’,” Russell added. “I’m not saying anyone’s given the logistics serious thought, but the idea is out there now and it’s not just me and Io who would want to see you all paid back for letting me live here and keeping me alive.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that we would be giving up our freedom and putting our lives in your hands, Russell,” Veera pointed out. “I choose to do so on account of our bonds of marriage and because I consider you to be a male who does not think in such terms. That doesn’t mean that this village will be treated the same way.”
Russell was unable to brush her concerns away, knowing that he was far from the most senior HEL individual in the system anymore. He didn't foresee any issues with the Admiral honoring the union he shared with Veera, but he hadn't exactly married the rest of the village. "I know, but it's not like Io or I would abandon them. I'm not worth much, honestly, but you've seen what Io can do when she doesn't get what she wants."
'I resent that,' she told him. 'You act as though I saw the Event Horizon and thought give me the shiny ship.'
Russell and Veera looked at Io quietly, chewing over tenderized pieces of chesko. She eventually backtracked. ‘Well don’t blame me for having the ability to do both at once! Besides, it’s not even that shiny.’
Veera laughed pleasantly as she reached over to scratch Fenrir between the ears. Between the slowly waning cooking fire and his dinner the hyrven was already headed for dreamland. “I appreciate the sentiment, Io. I know that you and Russell would not abandon us, but that will not make it any easier, especially for people like Ratha and Antoth.”
“That’s a bit of an understatement. I wouldn’t be surprised if it proved necessary to drag Ratha kicking and screaming into a shuttle,” Winters added, finding the image amusing. “Ah well, like I said it’s really not a decision that any of us get to make. I just wanted your perspective. I guess it’s probably a scary concept more than anything.”
“Yes, it is,” Veera agreed quietly. “And unlike me, they do not have someone like you to lean on.”
“Fair enough. Hopefully we can get a few set up like Xan, familiarize themselves with the ship at least. Sounds like Natori could use help and you all have five fingers, an opposable thumb, and are of approximately human height,” Winters reasoned. “Speaking of which, why don’t you head on up, Io. He should be aboard already. I think we’re just going to clean up dinner here.”
Veera waved her feathers in understanding as Io nodded and killed her projection. ‘I suppose I could check back in on my various VI monitoring subroutines as well. As you say sir. I will return later tonight.’
-----
“By Kel this place is big,” Xan complained, walking through corridor after corridor aboard the Event Horizon. He’d returned to his normal weight so he figured he had to be somewhere close to his destination, but with every turn he only seemed to find yet another sign featuring vibrant green and yellow symbols showing him the way to the hydroponics bays. The Cauthan let out an audible groan of relief when he stepped into a larger hallway and found a sizable green arrow pointing at a set of bulkheads several times his size. He could not yet read the human runes painted within it, but he recognized the location well enough. Clearing his throat and composing himself he walked up to the doors and made to knock, but found his plans foiled as they simply opened on their own and a synthesized, female voice faintly reminiscent of Io’s own welcomed him to the hydroponics bay. “Hey, Anita?” he called out, facile enough with English to use at least one word. He smiled as she poked her head around the corner of the door to her office, her long ponytail hanging most of the way to the floor from her seated position. She was confused to see him, which confused him in turn.
“X-Xan?” she stuttered. “What are you um, doing here?”
The Cauthan leaned heavily on his cane, putting two and two together before letting out a long sigh of realization and clicking a talon on the floor. “You know, if you’d prefer to work for someone who doesn’t enjoy surprises, Antoth would be happy to have you if you can grow food for us. He’s a similar color too, so that wouldn’t be much of a change, right? He wanted me to check in and see how things are going up here. Guess Natori didn’t give you a warning?”
“No, he didn’t,” Anita confirmed quietly, unsure whether to find humor in the idea of working for Antoth or trying to explain to Xan that it was the height of rudeness to remark on someone’s skin color in such a way. In the end she sat in silent embarrassment as her stomach betrayed her and growled audibly. Even with his mangled left ear Xan was able to pick up on it just fine.
“I have a place to sleep up here so maybe let’s get food first? Not like I’m in a rush or anything. Well, I actually can’t rush much of anywhere these days,” he quipped, pointing to his gimped leg. “I don’t really know my way around so… or was I interrupting something?”
Anita couldn’t bring herself to say no, so instead she zipped up her jumpsuit, grabbed her tablet, and ensured the automated subroutines were all green before tucking her chair neatly away at her desk. “So, ah, how have you been, Xan?” she asked politely, leading the way from her usual haunt to the hallways that would take them to the civilian canteen. The Cauthan kept a sure pace, his cane accentuating his progress. He chuckled to himself as he summed up the events of the prior cycle in one word.
“Busy.”
-----
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It's another round number, boys and girls. hopefully, nothing terrible happens. Minus the Bastards that burned down Hylsdal of course may all the terribleness happen to them.
The editing duo reports the following chapter fit for reading with only a mild chance of mental distress. Hopefully, this report is accurate. So let's get on with it.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
Wiki
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Chapter 80: Drawing Up Plans
Well, they hadn’t blown anything up yet, admittedly because they hadn’t managed to make anything even close to ready for testing. So they had packed up the three things that were sort of ready to show off. Dakota wasn’t entirely pleased that Tink hadn’t waited until they had proper prototypes ready. Not to mention they weren’t here to play at being inventors. It wasn’t hard to argue it was good for their schedule though. They hadn’t expected to have this meeting for days or possibly weeks.
It hadn’t been much more than 24 hours, yet they now found themselves standing outside a very impressive looking building. It was very tall, and had all kinds of strange things cluttering its exterior. There were windmills of different kinds, weather vanes, cranes, hoists, and a fair few things Sapphire had no clue what were.
Sapphire had left her bow at Tink’s workshop as it might provoke some questions around here.
It also begged the question: if this was where the engineering guild was located, why did Tink seem to live in his own workshop, a fair distance away?
“Oh this is going to be marvelous. Come along now,” the clearly excited Tink went as he approached the door guards. “Hello my fine fellow, I’m here for an appointment with Craftmaster Jakolev.”
“My my, got another brilliant idea have you?” One of the guards responded slightly sarcastically. It didn’t seem to faze Tink though, that was for sure.
“No, three,” He replied triumphantly. “And he is gonna love them.”
“Well, go on in. I’ll escort you since you're bringing friends today.” The guard turned to look at the trio, clearly slightly surprised as he gave them each a once over. Eyes lingering in certain places. “Where did you find those beauties?” He asked as he turned to open the door.
“They found me in fact,” Tink replied, completely unfazed by the guard's attitude as he slipped in the door. The inside was decently decorated and definitely well kept. It was a rather stark contrast to Tink’s cluttered up workshop, with its nice corridors and clean floors. Sapphire peeked in the few open doors they passed, which seemed to lead to offices or something of the like. There were certainly both parchment and tables in there.
“So how’s it going lately, Junior?” The guard questioned. the two of them bringing up the rear.
“Oh, you know, the usual… until those three showed up.”
“Am I allowed to know what it is our new huntress friends have come up with?”
“Oh, they aren't the designers they are messengers, and unfortunately no… not yet at least”
“Darn it, I’m guessing it’s quite something to get old Tink to stop chasing his own crazy ideas.”
‘Oh I’m sure you would like to know, also “sorry Tom” we definitely found a crazy one,’ Sapphire thought to herself, sending the mental apology to Tom.
They had arrived at a set of nice double doors. Two guards stood here as well. 'Well, whoever this guy is, he’s important, that’s for sure,’ Sapphire thought as the guards swung open the doors following them inside.
Inside was a very nice room with large glass windows on the far wall, looking around there was shelving all around, most of it filled with models of different kinds. There were model buildings, wagons, siege engines, and many other odd things that Sapphire had no clue what were. In front of them at a very large desk, a male dragonette of around Nunuk’s age was sitting. ‘He has spectacles!’ Sapphire thought to herself. She knew those cost a small fortune, and she hadn’t ever seen someone use them before. Usually, you would get a healer to fix any kind of eye problems.
“So Tink, what did you come up with this time?”
“Ohh, greetings crafts master. First off, on the insistence of my companions, I must have you sign this before we continue. Your guards too if they are to stay.” The old dragonette, who Sapphire assumed must be Craftmaster Jakolev, tilted his head downwards a little to peer over the top of his spectacles, sighing slightly.
“Bring it here. And yes, they are staying. You may go Werner.” Tink handed over a copy of the non-disclosure agreement, the guard who had escorted them leaving the way they came. The two other guards moved up to the desk.
“I see, quite unlike you to not want the world to know what you have been working on,” Jakolev replied, signing the document, the two guards doing the same. “So what you got?”
Tink gestured for them to bring forth the things, first presenting the drawings Tink had copied down and then the prototypes. It took a bit to explain what it all did, Jakolev didn’t say anything other than ask questions here and there.
“So it will not make your hand dirty when using it?”
“Oh gods no. This is just the core. I wrapped it up in a bit of leather for the time being, but it should just be wood. It would revolutionize design work, not to mention save a lot of parchment in the drawing departments. It’s cheap too, and can be carried wherever you go. Excellent for note-taking or possibly map work. Imagine not having to carry ink with you or relying on charcoal and chalk.”
“I’ll grant you it’s rather brilliant. But can you make it?”
“Certainly, it shouldn't be hard to do. It's just clay, that ghastly grey stuff, and cheap wood.”
“Very well, what of this self-lighting lamp. Why not just carry a flint and steel?”
“Oh we want to make it smaller, so it can fit in your pocket. And you can carry it at all times, it would become your flint and steel. Isn't it brilliant?!” Tink was clearly barely restraining himself. Jakolev though was a lot more calm and thoughtful.
“Agreed, but what of prices. This looks to be a rather complicated piece of kit.”
“We talked about perhaps making the first ones more like jewelry. You know, a status symbol for the rich.”
“That could work, I certainly want one if you can make it nice and clean, it would make lighting a pipe so much easier. The lamp might be easier to make for general use.”
“Excellent, so would you agree to produce these under license?” Dakota went, cutting to the bone of why they were here.
“If Tink here can come up with some proper designs for a finalized product I don't see why not. Except for the fact, the most complicated little things we make are locks. We will need some more jewelers too. I’ll see what I can do about that. What sort of licensing are we talking about?"
“Quarter of sales price,” Dakota answered calmly. Sapphire had been working that out. If a golden lighter ended up costing say 20 gold they would be getting five. That meant that if most of the people in the council bought one they would make hundreds of gold… from a drawing.
‘I can see why Tom was so damn well paid back home and that’s just the lighter,’ Sapphire thought.
“One-fifth.” Jakolev retorted leaning back in his chair.
“Uhh-uh, not happening, quarter on everything. Those are our terms as per the contract we brought. Remember, we’re just the messengers.”
“Then I want exclusive rights for no less than five years. With a clause for renegotiating the contract once it expires at my discretion,” That sounded like rights forever to Sapphire.
“With a twenty-five year maximum, only extendable upon agreement of both parties,” Dakota replied, seemingly very pleased. “Oh and before you consider breaking our agreement. Should this venture prove profitable for both sides, which I'm sure it will be, these will not be the last inventions you can expect from us.” Jakolev looked at Dakota quizzically at that, seemingly trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with here.
“Done. Tink, get yourself in gear. I want those things ready yesterday. We need to know if they could do any harm before we send them for approval.”
“Sir, yes, sir” Tink replied beaming with pride.
“Approval?” Sapphire questioned, that was a new one to her.
“Yes, of course, any such radical invention must be approved. We can’t have some craftsman who knows nothing of how to handle arcane inscriptions trying to sell them to the wider public. That would be disastrous. I can only imagine the harm done to our reputation if we started selling items that turn your hand black or grey.”
“How long would that take?” Dakota questioned.
“Normally that would take weeks, perhaps even months. Luckily I might be able to help speed that process up a bit. Not to mention, there is hardly anything dangerous here. There isn’t even a hint of magic in fact. It should be no problem.”
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“Now, now, don’t worry. You're safe here, I promise,” Lothal went as he rocked his little sister back and forth gently. The baby still hadn't stopped crying yet. Unkai had checked her over finding nothing wrong, incredibly. Tom guessed what had just happened wasn’t a pleasant experience in the least.
They had moved the 4-year-old girl over to try with her. Kalestine requested a minute before they continued, this was clearly not easy on her. Lothal moved away with the baby, going over to the other kids to stay clear of what was about to happen. Tom repeated the cut, drawing fresh blood in the same manner as before.
As with little baby Jinaro, when the blood hit Vibexa’s mouth it seemed to burn through, Kalestine’s breathing growing laboured as she strained greatly. The bright white light pouring forth from the young girl as she too let out an ear-piercing scream. Tom stood back this time as she thrashed around on the ground. It looked horrible. Just like with Jinaro, the light began to fade and eventually cut out. Then there was silence.
Jackalope leaned down to jostle the kid, to no effect. Jinaro had been screaming and crying right off the bat.
“Tom, she’s not breathing,” Jackalope went, looking at him with a horrified expression. Tom turned to look at Kalestine who was face down in the grass.
He quickly moved her head so he could hold a hand in front of a nostril.
“Well, she’s still breathing. Unkai get over here!” He replied, slightly relieved. He could guess at what the punishment was for killing a unicorn after all. “I think she fainted?” He went as Unkai arrived, sprinting over.
“Does that mean...” Jackalope trailed off, looking down at the girl, the spark of hope in her eyes fading.
Tom didn’t want to say it, but he knew. She was dead, very dead by now in fact. He didn’t know how long it had been, at least an hour though that was for sure. Short of some miracle magic, there was nothing to be done now.
He had believed this was all going to be fine… Why wasn’t it fine! He didn’t even know what god to curse for this. The old man from back home could hardly be held responsible. But why? Why give them hope. Twice even! Just to snatch it away like that. Most of All Tom just wanted to chuck his helmet for distance right now or go punch a tree. This wasn't fair, It was the excatch goddamn opposite of fair!
“Unkai do you think she could… you know later?” Jacky tried looking to Unkai.
“I know jack shit about unicorns other than ‘do as they say,’ and ‘be polite.’ ” His tone was hard, though there was clearly hurt in there. He would have expected it to work too, Tom guessed. Why wouldn't he have?
“Right,” Tom replied somberly, not quite sure what else to say right now. “I’ll... grab a blanket,” he continued, getting up.
Jackalope held out an arm to stop him for a second. “Tom, you're sure you can’t... You know?” she tried, clearly putting on a forced hopeful smile.
“We couldn’t save her now even if she was in a hospital bed in my home’s capital… I’m sorry,” Tom replied, looking down. “And I’m not even a doctor, healer, whatever… I can’t help her.” Jackalope’s smile faded as she looked back to the girl. Tom for one couldn’t stand to look at the girl anymore right now, so he walked away.
Jarix had laid down and curled up into a half-moon shape, with Zarko and the rest of the kids within the half-moon. Tom made his way over towards Zarko who was sitting with the twins. He almost felt sorry for Zarko as she was trying her best to comfort them. They weren't stupid; they knew they had just lost a sister, for the second time today.
The twins were damn near shaking with fear as they looked around despite Zarko’s efforts. Lothal was sitting with the crying Jinaro, Revo was lying on his back, head turned to stare at his dead sister.
Tom couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like down there. Not knowing how long it had been. He hadn’t seen any food either, they might have eaten it of course, but there was a good chance they were starving too. Tom sat down between Revo and Zarko. Gesturing for Lothal to come over.
He took his backpack off to get some rations out. Sugar probably wasn’t the right thing right now, but he did have a rather large bag of trail mix of the local variety, and they could use all the distractions they could get right now. “You hungry?” he tried, holding out a handful for the twins.
It took a bit before one of them reached out a hand to gingerly take some of it not saying a word. “No need to be shy, it’s yours. Would you mind Zarko?”
“Of course,” she replied, holding out her hand. Tom giving her the handful of trail mix to let her feed the two of them.
“How’s he doing?” Tom said, looking to Revo who was lying on his back.
“Unkai said his lungs are dirty, but he’ll be fine.”
“Somebody was brave protecting your little sister, hey?” Tom tried, in his most encouraging voice. The boy turned to look at him, giving a meek smile, which quickly vanished as he looked back to where Jackalope was sitting. Tom could hear her sobbing from here. “Lothal, do me a favor and hand this out, would you? Take as much as you want.” Tom went, giving the young man the bag and getting back up again.
“She’s not coming back is she?” Revo questioned, clearly on the verge of another breakdown.
“I’m sorry, but no I don’t think so.” Tom could feel the air vibrate with the growl that came from Jarix. The kids ducking for cover on instinct. “Welcome to war, Jarix. I hope you like it,” Tom went as he walked over to him to retrieve a blanket from his pack. The growl almost turned out a whimper at that. Maybe that was too rough, Jarix had done extremely well thus far. He needed to learn though, and he would hopefully never get a better lesson than this.
“But she’s dead, Tom. Why didn't she make it!?” Jarix protested. Clearly very distraught. Yeah okay, that was too rough, this wasn't his fault after all.
“Shs shs shhh, big guy. You did all you could. And we would never have found them without you. Hell, we wouldn’t even have made it here without you. And we didn’t lose a kid, okay?” Tom went, waiting until Jarix finally looked at him. “We saved five. You. Helped save, five kids. And you should be damn proud.”
“But I wanted to save six.”
“We all did, but that's another fact of war, Jarix. You don’t always win.” Tom grabbed a blanket from one of the bags low slung on Jarix’s harness, giving him a pat on the side. “And there is a big difference between losing a fight and losing a war.”
It would seem Jarix got what Tom was talking about, his head swiveling around to look at Tom. “We were told that if we find the enemy we are to return to the keep.”
“We haven't found them yet,” Tom replied in as hard a tone as he could muster right now. He mostly just wanted to scream for vengeance. That wouldn’t do though, not right now at least.
Tom moved over to the sobbing Jackalope, wrapping the kid up in the blanket before sitting down with her and giving her as much of a hug as he could manage. “They die for this!” she finally sneered out.
“What do you say we see about making that happen. Come over here, we have something to discuss,” he went, releasing her. She didn’t need to be told twice, shooting to her feet and turning to flank Tom as they walked over.
“Zarko, it was four hours to Deriva, right?”
“Yes, but it will be night by then… and what about the kids?”
“We leave them here with Unkai and Kalestine, we will give her some time to wake up. I don't want to get there before nightfall anyway. Are we sure we are dealing with Darklings here?”
“We shouldn't be talking about this here... We will be right back. Jarix, watch them. He is big and friendly so don’t be scared. No one hurts you while we are here. ” Tom had to agree with that assessment. Probably better to leave them be alone for a bit, rather than rub their noses in this. The three of them walked by the water's edge for a bit, until they were confident in being out of earshot. Well except for jarix.
“They took the bodies Tom, there must be darklings among them,” Zarko started. “That door was no darkling though.”
“Do they need to sleep?`”
“Yes, just like we do. They are essentially us… you know.” She sounded ashamed of that, it was just what Tom wanted to hear though.
“Excellent, can they see in the dark better than you can?” That took her a second to respond to.
“Don’t think so. I think I would have heard of that if they could.”
“Very good. I say we go to Deriva, you drop me off then you get some rest. I have some fun with them in the night.”
“You want to go in there alone?!” Jackalope questioned, clearly not happy with that idea.
“You people can’t hide at night, you're white and there will be moonlight. I can.”
“Tom, that is a stupid idea,” Zarko agreed. “And we would lose the element of surprise. If you insist on us trying to help them, then I say we dive in, take some shots at them and climb out. With luck, some of them will follow us and we can draw them off.”
Tom had to think on that for a second. “Can you hit them in the dark though?”
“Whatever broke down that door and did in Kalestine cannot be a small target. If we can handle that, the keep might have a chance. Or at least hold out for long enough to get help.”
“Think Jarix can outrun whatever it is they have?”
“He might be brash, but he’s fast. It’s not without reason he flies without a combat crew.”
“What if we do both?” Tom then asked, looking at the two women. “At night they won’t see you until you're right on top of them. Then when I start blowing shit up, you dive on the bastards. Then I slip away in the confusion.”
“Tom, Deriva lies on the edge of a canyon. There is not much to hide behind and you can only come from one side,” Jackalope protested. That would be a problem, with his cloak though he should be fine so long as he could maintain a decent range.
“Do they have sniffer dogs? Or anything like that?” The two of them just looked at him confusedly, clearly not having a clue what he was talking about. “Something that can find me using smell.”
“A vargulf can do that I’m fairly sure,” Jackalope replied, clearly thoughtful on the subject. Tom guessed it made sense if you hunted from the air that you wouldn't use smell much. From his understanding, though the Vargulfs were more like hyenas, they wouldn’t pass up a carcass. So it made sense they could find it.
“Zarko, will they be organized enough to search for me, or do I just have to not be seen?”
“Depends on who’s giving them orders. With beasts like whatever broke down the door present, I say there is a very good chance they have someone telling them what to do.”
“So it’s just one dude telling them what to do?”
“Maybe. There is no saying if there is more than one. Not to mention, they took the bodies from Hylsdal; they must have something with them which can corrupt. A regular darkling can't do that.”
“Another dark knight then?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Then I say this just turned into an assassination mission.”
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So then you win some you lose some, unacceptable as it sometimes is. What did you think, too rough to kill another kid? I know some of you were even rooting for a dead baby. If you think I'm an arsehole for my transgressions, then do let me know down below. I'm sure you can come up with some very colorful language.
Until next time have an awesome day. Hopefully more awesome than Tom and company at least.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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So then folks ready to get that cliffhanger from last time, resolved? Well, luckily for you chapter 78 is here and ready to read. hopefully with an accurate title this time.
The editing duo have collectively shaken their heads at the results of my labor and then made it into something fit for showing off to you guys. So I say we got on with it.
​
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
Wiki
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Chapter 79: How Does That Even Work?
Tom’s head shot up. “Kalestine! We need to get them to Kalestine!” He shouted out at the others. Heads turning to face him.
“Tom, we can’t hurt a unicorn,” Zarko replied despairingly.
“I don’t care. I asked her, she said maybe. Maybes will do right now. Jarix, we’re moving. Jackalope, on your feet we ain’t done yet.” That last part was superfluous as she had already yanked the girl away from Unkai and started sprinting towards Jarix. Zarko and Unkai also snapped to it, Tom guessed the excuse of Kalestine having said so would do for them.
“Can you walk?” Tom questioned the boy who had come clambering out. He was clearly struggling to get to his feet, even if he had stopped crying. “Come now grab on, I'll carry you,” Tom went, kneeling down in front of the kid who latched on. He grabbed his helmet, slapping it on, then picked up the basket holding it tight, and made his way to where Jarix was getting clear of the buildings.
Unkai had grabbed the boy who had been clutching the basket, even if he was breathing he was clearly not in good shape either, Zarko carrying the twins. It was a mad scramble to get everyone on board and secure.
“Jacky, rifle,” Tom went, pointing to the hole where he had left it. Jackalope quickly half-ran half-flew over to grab it as Jarix set off at a gallop to get airborne. “Everyone hang on,” Zarko instructed as she held onto the dead girl. Tom made sure the basket wasn’t going anywhere as Jarix jumped into the air, wings driving down hard.
Jackalope made it back in no time as jarix was getting up to speed, setting down with the precious rifle. Tom quickly slung it over his shoulder. It was clear she had not fared much better than him, eyes red and wet. She was smiling though and there was hope in her eyes. Tom really hoped Kalestine wasn’t gonna rob her of that.
“Zarko, you know where she is?"
“That I do,” she replied. There was a hint of reluctance in her voice. As she looked at the kids currently strewn about Jarix's back, her face seemed to go from stern to pained and she started relaying instructions.
‘Kalestine better not be a bitch today, or I’m gonna end up a heretic,’ Tom thought to himself, looking at the kids. There were six in total; four boys and two girls, those being the two youngest. The oldest of them being the one who had come crawling out. Tom guessed he was around eleven, which would make him a young man by dragonette standards.
He was sitting next to Tom, shifting between looking at his little sister in the basket and at the others around him. Clearly overwhelmed by what was happening. The twins still hadn’t let go of each other and looked terrified as all hell.
“What’s your name?” Tom asked the young man, trying to divert his attention from the girl Jackalope was clutching tight. Poor Jacky, Tom thought to himself. Based on the story of her home, this was likely all too familiar for her, after all. She knew better than anyone what these kids were going through.
“Lothal,” the answer finally came, meekly as could be. Tom turned back to him, doing his best to smile.
“I’m Tom, don’t worry I’m less scary than I look,” Tom tried in the softest voice he could manage right now. “Who are your friends?” The kid sniffed a few times before turning to the others pointing.
“That’s Hulu and Hana,” he went, pointing at the twins. “That’s Revel,” he continued pointing to the boy Unkai was tending to. “That's Vibexa.” His voice started to quiver as he pointed to Jackalope, then looking down into the basket. “Jinaro,” he finished, holding back more crying.
“Now now, come here,” Tom went, holding him tight with his right arm.
“No one else made it, did they?”
“I don’t think so no.”
“I guess mother was right then… I’ll have to do,” Lothal continued, bringing out a golden huntress crown from under his clothes and clutching it tightly in his hands. ‘Oh buddy,’ Tom thought.
“Thank you… sir?”
“I’m no sir… well I'm a man if that is what you mean. And don’t worry about it, you've had it rough enough, you don't need to thank anyone.”
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“That crazy bastard really managed to get us in today?” Sapphire couldn’t quite believe that. Perhaps the engineering guild was a lot less busy than she thought, or Tink held more sway than she had guessed.
“Yup, come on now, better hurry up,” Tink Junior replied. They had barely finished breakfast yet, but Sapphire guessed that would have to wait.
“What about the prototypes?” Dakota questioned, not yet moving from her seat.
“The rudder was easy enough, membrane leather did the trick just fine. And he managed to light himself on fire only two hours ago so the lighter is coming along well I think.”
“He lit himself on fire… and that's a good thing?” Sapphire had to ask, thinking back to Tom's warning about not getting a crazy guy.
“Well it worked. Not that it was too hard.”
“Wait, two hours ago. He hasn’t slept yet, has he?” Dakota questioned. ‘Going to a meeting with a sleeping crazy inventor, marvelous,’ Sapphire thought to herself.
“Noo, I tried to get him to go to bed. I woke up, when he burned himself on the drawing thing."
“He made those too?”
“Only the inside bit, didn’t have time for the wood. It's proof of concept after all. The lighter is a little big too.”
“How big?” Dakota questioned intently.
“About uhmmm... I mean you could hang it on your belt.”
Dakota sighed a little. “When is this meeting?”
“Oh it’s not until late in the afternoon. We were hoping you would lend us a hand.”
“That sounds fun. We got anything more important to do?” Balethon questioned, all the while stuffing his face full of fried eggs.
“We still have more things to find. That won’t matter though if we can’t afford them.” Dakota put down her utensils. “Let’s go lend a hand then.”
Having a local guide did help quite a bit with navigating. Especially since Junior seemed to know just about where everything was, even pointing out a few of the things they needed as they glided over the city. It had been a while since Sapphire last had to deal with this much traffic, she wasn’t a silvered huntress and tonselra champion for nothing though.
Balethon, on the other hand, earned some rather rude remarks from passersby when he nearly hit a family with children. Not that Dakota was much easier on him after that. “Seriously, watch where you are going. You’ll make people think we don’t teach the kids properly”
“Geez I said I was sorry, okay?”
“Down here, try not to hit anything,” Junior went in a sarcastic tone as he descended. Sapphire had been expecting to land on the street but apparently Junior thought they deserved special treatment as he set down on the roof.
Going down the stairs they found a, very much so, sleeping Tink at a workbench.
“Wake up dad, I told you to go to bed,” Junior went, kicking the chair. Tink woke with a start, looking around a tad confused.
“Oh I see, it's morning. Right, I have things to show you. Come now,” he went, leaving the room and dragging Dakota by the arm into the drawing-room. “Look, it can draw just like he said it could. Just some clay powder and that ghastly grey dye.” He sounded very excited as he presented a small grey stick to Dakota. It wasn’t even the length of her thumb and it was rather fat. Not at all like the ones Tom had brought.
“Try it out,” he continued, gesturing to a piece of paper on the table. Dakota did as instructed, drawing a line on the parchment. It did leave a nice trail on the page even if it was more of a fat smudge than the elegant lines Tom’s pencils could draw. “Not bad for a day's work, hey?”
“Definitely not. Very impressive,” Dakota had to admit, putting the thing down again. She gasped when she saw what it had done to her hand. “What in the... I need to wash my hands. Do you have water?
“Oh, sure, follow me,” Junior went as the two left to solve the problem.
“Right… whoops. I can see why you would want to put some wood around it. Still haven't worked out how to do that though.”
“You also need to sharpen it,” Sapphire interjected. She had tried Tom’s pencils before, which was clearly important for good results.
“Oh, of course. I’ll get the grindstones.”
“Just use a knife, it’s easier.”
“Oh… well okay then.”
“What about making it go away again. The rudder?”
“Oh, I just used some strips of membrane leather glued together into a little block, nice and cheap. Here,” he tossed Sapphire the little thing. It looked a lot more like what she had been expecting.
“Is that the lighter?” Balethon asked, looking at what Sapphire would best describe as a nice lantern that had been ripped apart poorly.
“Oh yes, I didn't have time to make that tiny thing so I just made the little spark thing and put it on a lantern. Look.” True to his word, he flicked the wheel on the side and the thing lit up with a burst of sparks, burning with a nice clean flame. “Alternatively, we could just sell these as self-lighting lanterns.”
“Dakota is gonna like this,” Sapphire concluded. “You did all this since yesterday?”
“Sure, the Dencil was the most difficult. I need to make a proper mold for that. It didn’t get hot enough either. It likes to crumble so I made a few to show off.”
“Okay then. What was it you wanted us for then?”
“Oh, I need some help with this thing,” he went, this time grabbing Sapphire by the arm to drag her along. She entertained him for the time being; he had done one hell of a job for one night after all. He went to the big room where they had found him sleeping. “I just needed to know about those naggnet things, so I started putting this together.”
“Uh uh, not happening,” Sapphire protested as she looked at his very rushed-looking sketches, which to her dismay had a jar of blitz gel on them. With what she assumed were wires sticking out of it.
“Why not?! I mean I still haven't figured out how to make the thin copper strands it talked about in the instructions, but it was very clear that you needed lightning. What better way to get it than blitz gel?”
“That stuff explodes… regularly,” Sapphire tried in the voice usually reserved for when Jackalope had a bad idea. It was as effective as always.
“I ain’t gonna hit it with a hammer or anything!” Tink protested, much to Sapphire's dismay.
“Have you ever worked with electricity?” She asked very pointedly.
“No…”
“Then let me teach you a few lessons I have learned. One, that stuff can and will blow up even when you think you know what you are doing. Two, it’s fucking loud when it does so and it breaks things. Three, the man who designed this stuff originally also has this stuff blow up on him… regularly. So you stand no chance.”
Tink looked somewhere between offended and a kid who had his toy taken away. “Well then what?” he replied with an exasperated shrug.
“We do as the instructions say of course?”
“But this is what the instructions said...”
‘Fuck!’ Sapphire really should have read those before betting Tom hadn't been this reckless.
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Tom and Jackalope had sat down next to each other with their backs to the other kids so they didn’t have to look at their two dead sisters. Lothal was doing his best along with Zarko and Unkai to keep them distracted, but it was clear they still wanted to know what was going on.
“How many do you think they killed?”
“None, they're recruiting,” Jackalope replied darkly, staring back towards the keep as it got smaller in the distance. Tom leaned in to whisper into her ear, not wanting the kids to hear.
“Where do you think they're going next?”
“Knowing our luck they made it past us on the way here without us spotting them.”
“You don’t think that…
“I don't know, okay!” She replied angrily, head snapping to look at him. Of course she didn’t, how could she. She seemed to regret it though, turning to look down at the girl she was still clutching. “I was five… I guess she wins then.”
“Wins what?” Tom tried as delicately as he could.
“Most unlucky little girl.” Tom just put his head on her shoulder.
“If she will be half the badass as you are it can’t be all bad.”
“She will be even more badass. She will have unicorn’s blood.”
‘God I hope so,’ Tom thought to himself.
It was not much of a trip, Jarix was trying to go as fast as possible while being restrained by Zarko. They couldn’t have anyone falling off, and chances were good Jarix's job was far from done today. They had made the clearing in a matter of minutes, circling down to land by the edge of the waterhole.
‘Can you hear me?’ Tom tried to think as they were descending.
“Yes,” came the weary response. “Why have you brought the kids?” Jackalope seemed to react to that as well, so he guessed this was on the broad channel. He would rather spare the kids for now though. They didn’t need to have their faces rubbed in the fact they were likely all orphans now.
‘They’re all that's left.’ There was a fair bit of silence following that, coinciding with Jarix touching down and trotting over to the small shelter they had made for Kalestine.
“I take it you came here for blood, then?”
‘Please. We tried, we can’t help them.’ Tom and Jacky carried down the two girls, while the others handled the rest of the kids, trying to keep them away. Lothal was doing a remarkably good job of keeping calm, even if the same could not be said for the rest of them. The shock factor was clearly still in effect for them though.
Tom and Jackalope had sat down with Kalestine placing the two dead kids before her.
“You know the punishment for hurting a unicorn, you will be barred from heaven for doing that.” Jackalope didn’t seem to flinch at that, so Tom guessed that was common knowledge.
“Right away or at some point?” He had to ask. He reasoned that chances were pretty good he was going to hell anyway if he died. He could hardly be more of a heretic anyway around these parts.
“When you die, I think.”
“Good enough for me,” Tom replied, drawing his knife. Jackalope grabbed him by the hand, yanking him into an embrace. Nuzzling him closely and even giving him a boop, which he guessed was her way of trying a kiss. He returned the gesture as best he could. Then she released him, looking a bit coy.
“Just in case,” She went, looking down.
“Hey, I don’t think this will kill me. Besides, I don't even follow your gods,” Tom replied, turning back to Kalestine. “How much and where from?”
“I didn’t say I would let you,” Kalestine responded; Tom’s grip on the knife tightened. “I will let you try, for a price.”
“Name it,” Tom responded. ‘Bartering with the lives of a fucking baby.’ He tried not to think about how much that made him hate her right now.
“Find and kill the one who broke my horn,” Kalestine replied, switching into a vicious tone. “And make them suffer for it.”
“With pleasure,” Jackalope responded coldly. Tom had to admit he didn’t have a problem with that either. He was guessing that would fall under hunting down child murderers.
“Deal. Now, where and how much?”
“Do try and put it where it can’t be seen. I’m looking like a whipped draft horse already.” Tom had to admit, the glamour of when he had first seen her had sort of vanished. Magic life horse though, so he was sure that would return eventually. “You won’t need much, a few drops will do.”
That wasn’t too hard to manage, as he moved to her side. “Thank you,” he went as he nicked her by her cloven hoof. He had expected a horse’s hoof, but what the hell, it was hardly the strangest thing about her.
The small nick didn't bleed much but it did the trick as he scooped up some of the strange silvery liquid in the fuller of his knife. Jackalope brought the basket over, setting it down next to Tom and held the little girl's mouth open.
“When you run out of science, use magic I guess,” Tom went, tilting the knife to let the blood run into the little girl's mouth.
The effect was immediate as the liquid seemed to burn its way through the tongue and sides of the little girl's mouth, bright white light beaming out from where Tom was expecting a wound to be. There was just a quick flash then it was gone, with no evidence remaining.
He flinched back at the sight, it was a violent reaction. Jackalope was clearly not expecting that either, turning away from the flash of light for a split second. Kalestine let out a pained sound as the blood hit. Tom guessed she was paying for this somehow then. In fact, she appeared to be paying quite a lot.
Then the little girl convulsed, almost like she had been hit with an electric shock, eyes, and mouth shooting open, with the same blinding white light pouring from them. It looked more like something out of a horror film as the scream came, an agonizing desperate scream of a baby in great pain. She thrashed around, the light beaming from her. Tom felt he needed to do something, but Jackalope hit him in the chest with enough force to drive out his breath when he leaned forward.
“Don't touch her.”
The light slowly began to fade from blinding to bright to none as eventually the clear green of the kid’s eyes could be seen. The scream turning to the sweetest sound Tom could hope for. Crying.
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The baby lives! Now be honest how many of you thought I was gonna kill the little baby? Ahh don't worry there is still a kid left and who knows baby might be a Hodor now. And Tink has been very productive it would seem, hopefully, his rushing nature doesn't lead to any horrible situations, we have enough of those at the moment.
As always let me know what you thought good and bad down below and may you all have an awesome day.
​
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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It’s about 8 pm on a Friday night and my 5 year old twins are up watching a movie while I’m doing laundry. I hear one say to turn the light off while they watch cuddled in their blankets. My other twin starts freaking out and turns the light on saying there’s a weird looking little boy in the living room and she can see him every time the tv light flashes. I tell her it’s ok and nobody is in the house. They turn the light back off and within seconds she starts crying and pointing covering her face with her blanket. I turn the light on and see nothing. I tell them enough tv for the night and it’s time to get in bed. I tuck them in close the door, turn the tv off and the light out. My dog 🐕 comes with me back to the laundry room to fold laundry. About 30 minutes go by and I am finished. I come in my house turn the light off and come to the living room door way (all lights are out) and a child sized black shadow stands in the middle. I think to myself it’s my kid and say go to bed....it doesn’t move. I get this odd sense of fear, like it crept into me. I look down to see where my dog is and he’s staring at it too, right by my side. I look up and it’s gone. I go straight to my kids room and they are both asleep tucked in as I left them......maybe there was a little boy like she said....maybe she could see something I didn’t in that moment, but I sure saw it then. Goosebumps ugh!
Some more recent things are; 1. My daughter waking up saying there’s a group of people in her closet trying to talk to her. 2. My daughter saying an old lady touches her hair at night 3. I have seen a dark mass float through my bedroom 4. One night I heard what sounded like a radio playin I followed it to my kids room and when I opened the door it went silent. The weirdest part is it seemed to come from their sound machine which only has set sounds. This sounded like two people talking or singing it was very weird.

Inspired by: [WP] In a very,very distant future you are a wise,millenia-old being that ruled and protected Earth for ages. However,raiders from another galaxy arrived.

Chapter Nineteen: The Raiders

[Chapter One] [Chapter Eighteen] [Chapter Twenty]
Earth Rebuilt
Six Billion (and change) AD
“Uncle Tal! Uncle Tal!”
At first, Tal didn’t want to move. The hand-carved wooden chair (some skills never went away) was comfortable, and the sun was warm. It may not have been the sun he was born under, but with the original used up and sold off, this new one was good enough. He was still getting used to the different constellations, though.
“Uncle Tal!”
Something in the youngster’s voice stirred his innate caution. After a waking lifespan of nearly a hundred thousand years, he’d acquired an instinct for trouble that was second to none. After all, living that long requires not dying to the many perils to which fragile flesh can fall prey.
“Uncle Tal!”
The kid was close now, panting as he called out. Tal levered his eyes open and sat upright. “Heard you th’ first time, Bran. What is it?”
It had been forty years since he’d awakened from his last chronon-inflicted stasis, the one that had begun shortly after the dying Sun was sold off. Due to his stubbornness and refusal to leave, Earth was left to fling itself out of where the solar system had been, under the power of its own angular momentum. He’d fully expected to die then, once he deactivated his atmosphere shield and let the thin, chilly atmosphere take him.
But he’d survived and been awoken by a latter-day strain of humanity who had repositioned the Earth-Moon system around a more congenial star, then rebuilt Tal’s species with his own genome as a starting point. Those who had been mere children when he awoke had grown to adulthood and borne children of their own, and those children themselves were now parents. He had grown old among the peaceful collection of communities (called among themselves the Nine Villages) for which he had become the unofficial arbiter of knowledge and disputes.
As well as his stories, of which he had a millennia-deep font, he also knew of many tradecrafts that a body could turn his hand to with little in the way of complex tools, and had taken it upon himself to pass these on to his newly-reborn people. He was nearing his end, he knew, but it was nice to know that the knowledge and skills passed on to him by his forebears would not die when he finally passed.
But he did like his rest. And if his naptime was being disturbed so he could look at a funny-looking frog the young ones had caught in the stream, he’d be … maybe not angry, as there was no meanness in them. But he might be a little sarcastic about it.
However, from the tone of Bran’s voice, he didn’t think it was something so trivial.
“They say there’s a ship coming in, Uncle Tal!” Bran was ten, and in Tal’s uncertain memory he could’ve been the twin of a boy Tal had known in his youth; Garanoth, the son of the chief. But that was impossibly long ago and light-years hence, in a solar system that no longer existed. He blinked and focused on the here and now.
“Collective, or someone else?” He levered himself to his feet. The walking stick that had become more and more essential to him came to his hand readily enough; if he wasn’t as steady on his feet as he once had been, Bran was diplomatic enough to not pay it notice.
“It doesn’t look like a Collective ship, and they’re not transmitting any known code,” Bran said, and thus the cause of the excitement became plain. While there were other starfaring races out there (some descended from Earth stock, others from further afield) the identification codes were known and shared by all. Earth and its close stellar neighbours were under the sway of the human strain who had awakened Tal; they called themselves the Travelling Collective, and were the most frequent visitors to the resettled Earth and the Nine Villages.
“Well, that’s different, all right.” Tal started off toward the single tech-built structure that still remained in the Villages. Once he’d shown his people how to erect buildings with their own hands, from native stone and hand-shaped wood, they had eschewed the Collective-erected structures and entirely rebuilt their homes to fit in with the landscape and tree cover. The Collective had obligingly removed their own buildings, and sent anthropologists into the Nine Villages, studying the new houses and recording the evolving way of life.
The only ‘modern’ building in the Nine Villages was thus the ‘control tower’ for the minimal spaceport. While Tal’s people (and Tal himself) were happy to use basic modern conveniences such as electricity and running water, the Collective structure was purpose-built to house ultra-modern computers (including Narok, the personable Intelligence who had greeted him upon his awakening) and such equipment as could be used to detect passing starships and determine their business.
“What are you gonna do, Uncle Tal?” asked Bran eagerly, trotting alongside him. To him, Tal was an almost godlike figure of wisdom and knowledge, hearkening from an age of mythology and legend. If Tal was being honest with himself, sometimes he felt like a fraud around the boy.
“Go an’ talk with ’em,” Tal said bluntly. “But you need to do somethin’ for me. Go put out the word I said ‘Ackbar says, duck and cover’.”
Bran stared at him, mouth dropping open. He knew what Tal meant because Tal had explained the notion to them, and even held drills on the matter. He just didn’t know why.
“Do you think they want to hurt us?” Pained innocence loomed large in his voice. In his experience, strangers were friendly and interesting people from far away.
Tal shook his head. “I don’t know, an’ that’s why I’m bein’ careful. These strangers might be friendly, an’ they might not be. Until we find out, we need to make sure they can’t hurt you. Now, git.”
Bran ‘got’, taking off through the trees like a startled jackrabbit. They didn’t quite have jackrabbits here in this incarnation of Earth, but there was something similar. Tal knew he wouldn’t dally in spreading the message. The Nine Villages were peaceful, but Tal had far too much experience with rough strangers encroaching on peaceful lands to trust that would stay the case.
As Tal approached the spaceport control structure, one of the semi-permanent staff came out to meet him. This was Stefan, the man who’d been there when he had been revived. At the time, they hadn’t shared a common language, but since then Tal had taken the time to learn the Collective trade language they all spoke. Stefan looked mildly concerned, but not worried. Tal figured he probably hadn’t thought the situation through fully.
“Thank you for coming, Tal of the Nine,” Stefan greeted him formally. “You are the one among us who has the most experience in meeting with people from different cultures, so I thought it would be a good idea to ask you to come here for this event.”
“You thought right,” Tal agreed. “So, no matches with anyone we know?” He trusted Bran’s word, but the boy may have misunderstood something or Stefan might have gotten more information since.
“None whatsoever,” a voice spoke from empty air. Tal knew this was Narok, and nodded in greeting. “I’ve checked every database. Twice. The make and markings are unknown, and the drive is configured oddly. Ideas?”
“Two,” Tal said at once. “An insular species that’s only just now coming onto the galactic scene and has decided to make this their first port of call. Or someone from another galaxy.”
“I concur.” At the same time, Stefan nodded. “Though I find it hard to believe that we would have missed a starfaring culture in our own galaxy. So the exo-galactic hypothesis seems to hold more weight.”
Stefan tilted his head. “Do you believe that a race would truly travel between the galaxies? What could they find here that they do not find where they come from?”
Tal scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I can think of one thing. But I could be wrong.” He glanced at Stefan. “Just … be ready to lock your place down and send out a distress signal if things go sideways.”
“What thing?” asked Stefan. “And do you honestly believe they would be hostile? After coming all this way?”
Turning to survey the Collective human, Tal gave him a speculative stare. “I don’t assume nothing. But I’d make sure we can deal with hostility.”
“I will ensure that any hypothetical hostiles will not gain entry to the facility,” Narok assured him.
Tal nodded. That would have to do.
****
The ship came in for a landing about five minutes later, the anti-gravity generators setting up unpleasant resonances in Tal’s back teeth. But he ignored the sensation and leaned on his walking stick alongside Stefan. The human was clad in low-profile strength-enhancing armour under his standard work gear, and sported an energy pistol ostentatiously on his right hip. Tal wore neither armour nor weapon, save the flint knife he’d knapped during his time in Challenger Valley.
His walking stick wasn’t classed as a weapon, as far as he was concerned. He actually needed it to walk, sometimes.
A ramp swung down, with a clearly marked airlock at the top end. At least, the markings were clear without ever being legible. They were written in no language that Tal had ever read.
When the airlock opened, the idea that these might not yet be strangers was ended with severe prejudice. There was one alien race, blue-skinned and copper-blooded, that dated from before humans went into space, as well as several others he’d encountered since then. The three creatures now descending the ramp fitted no such description. When all three had reached the bottom of the ramp, they stopped and surveyed the welcoming party, such as it was.
Tal looked right back. The newcomers stood around the six-foot mark and were distinctly saurian in nature. From their quick, agile movements, they were warm-blooded all the same. The two outriders had scales where black faded to red, while the seeming ambassador had black fading to purple.
The one in the middle played with a small device and spoke into it. Nothing happened, so he adjusted it a little then tried again. On the third try, Tal heard a voice in his head. “Greetings.”
“Greetings back at you,” Tal retorted, remembering to concentrate and try to push the words out through his mind. “Mind tellin’ us what you’re here for?”
“You are impatient.” The saurian’s mental tone was amused. “In a moment, you will understand all.”
The tone was light, but Tal didn’t trust it for an instant. As he watched, the middle figure took out a second device and covered its screen with his scaly palm.
For a moment, Tal didn’t realise what had happened, whereas Stefan got it immediately. He whirled toward the aliens and blurted out, “Did you just turn out the electricity?”
“Now you understand.” The purple-and-black saurian lifted its lip to reveal a row of exceedingly sharp teeth. “All things that need an energy flow have been cut off from it. You are helpless before us. Your weapons will not function. Surrender is your only option.”
Tal jerked his head up to get their attention. “Okay, so you’ve got us. Congratulations. Why is this, again? An’ why’d you come all this way, just to turn out our lights?”
The saurian turned toward him. “We require breedable species that can be taught to perform functions. All races where we come from know of our activities, and attack us before we can get close enough to render them helpless.” It grinned again.
“Why am I not surprised.” Tal’s voice was as dry as he could make it. Mentally, he paid out on the bet he’d made with himself about this.
A column of troops emerged from the airlock and trotted down the ramp, forming up behind the first three. “Three guards will remain with the ship. The rest, with me.” The alien turned to Stefan and Tal. “Who has command over the local area?”
Tal straightened a mite. “That’ll be me.”
The reptile grinned and flicked out a purple-red tongue. “You will guide us to your community centres and we will pick those who will be honoured to return with us to our galaxy. If you do not, we will scour this area to the bedrock, and go elsewhere. What is your choice?”
The translator tended toward the monotone, but Tal thought he caught a hint of smugness. He didn’t care. It was time to enact his plan. “I’ll take you to see the villagers.”
“Tal, you cannot!” The exclamation burst out of Stefan’s lips. “They mean to use them as … as …” He stumbled, not knowing the word for the concept that had been just now introduced to his worldview.
“Slaves.” Tal knew it all too well. “It’s this or they all die.” He tilted his head. “You trust me?”
Hope sprang up in Stefan’s eyes. “I do.”
“Good.” Tal turned to the saurian. “Let’s go. Daylight’s a’burnin’.”
“Daylight cannot burn. Your turn of phrase is nonsensical.”
“I’ve been told that a time or two.” Tal led off into the forest, closely flanked by the red-and-black aliens, with the purple-and-black following close behind. After them trailed the troops.
He took a deliberately roundabout route, but not so circuitous that it would be noticeable, before leading his little cavalcade down a narrow draw, lined with trees and bushes. Shadows cast by the setting sun were beginning to darken as they got to the midpoint. He spotted an anomalous object—a red flower placed where that type of plant did not grow—and he slowed a mite, causing the troopers to bunch up behind.
Then he took his walking-cane in hand, turned fast, and tripped the red-and-black on one side before slamming the heavy head of the stick into the side of the other one’s head. The first fell, thrashing, into the bushes. The other went down like it had been shot.
In the next instant, the undergrowth on either side erupted with armed warriors. For not only had Tal educated his people on the tools and skills of peace, but he had also shown them how to do war. Because war comes everywhere, eventually.
The shocked troops were grappled by brawny men, their weapons wrenched away and sharp blades held to sensitive parts of their anatomy. Tal stepped up to the purple-and-black where it was being held by Bran’s father, and pulled the flint knife from his belt.
“Turn the lights back on, an’ be careful about it,” he advised. “Try anythin’ else, an’ your next job will be fertiliser.”
The saurian stared at Tal as the shadows ever deepened. Tal’s eyes, though they weren’t as sharp as they once had been, could handle the dimness just fine. He wasn’t quite sure what it saw before it, but the vision seemed to frighten it deeply. “You … how … nobody else ever resisted!” it blurted.
“Always a first time.” Tal prodded it with his blade. “Now git to it.”
*****
When Tal returned alone to the spaceport building, every light on it was shining brightly. Stefan came out to meet him, looking remarkably chipper. “Your plan worked! How did you know it would work?”
Tal shrugged. “Didn’t. But folks who depend all the time on high tech tend to ignore low tech. I had archers trailing us the whole way.” He nodded at the ship. “Your guys?”
“Your men sneaked up on them.” Stefan’s tone was admiring. “They sneaked up on me. And I knew about them. Where are they all now?”
“We got secure holding an’ ’round the clock guarding until the Collective ship you called in gits here.” Tal smiled slightly. The Collective liked to ‘patrol’ their region of space almost aggressively, looking for any trouble they could jump in and deal with. They would be almost ecstatic to be allowed to deal with a bunch of intergalactic slavers.
Stefan let out a slight sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was half-worried you might have, you know, cooked and eaten them or something?” His tone tried to make it into a joke.
Tal showed his teeth. “Thought about it, but there wasn’t enough of them to go around. I’m going to bed. Night, Stefan.”
“Good night … Uncle Tal.”
Turning, the oldest Neandertal moved off through the darkness toward what was truly his home, now. It had been a long day, and now he needed his rest.
Tomorrow, after all, was another day.
[Chapter One] [Chapter Eighteen] [Chapter Twenty]

The town I live in has always been one of those safe “it would never happen here” type of towns. I grew up here, went to school here, met my girlfriend and her young daughter here, and even opened up my own family orientated barber shop here. I love it here--or loved it here.
Working in a barber shop, you come to learn a lot about the people around town, especially when yours has a good reputation like mine. They chatter on as I cut their and their kid’s hair, keeping their voices quiet when it was something their kids probably didn’t need to know about. But I could hear all of it and I learned probably more than I even really wanted to learn.
But that’s when I heard the horrible news for that first case. A couple whose hair I cut, their seven year old daughter had gone missing from her bedroom.
According to my customers, the parents had gotten up in the morning and when they went to get their little girl up for school, the window was wide open and she was missing. Rumor had it, the neighbors could hear the mother’s scream from across the street, blood-curdling and horrific.
The police had been called of course, they plastered posters all over town, got as much news coverage as they could, but the little girl never was found. I saw the parents once though, walking along the street, posters in hand, and they were holding a doll. I was just outside for a minute, enjoying the fresh air while I didn’t have any customers, so I didn’t get such a good look, but the doll was about the same size of your average baby doll, but from where I looked it was made of fabric.
Except the hair. The hair looked like it was the same sort of synthetic hair actual dolls had.
I shrugged it off, not really thinking much of it and went back to work.
A couple weeks later another child went missing. Open bedroom window, gone from bed, parents found in the morning that their son was just gone. The weird part is, he had a twin brother who shared his room, and according to him, he never even noticed that his brother had been taken. Everyone said it was a miracle that he wasn’t kidnapped as well.
And the police ruled it a kidnapping because the child was five--what sort of five and seven year olds would run away, right?
I was shocked and terrified to my core as I listened to the woman chatting away about it. Another kid missing within just a few weeks? What the hell is going on?
It was the day after that the missing boy’s mother came in, her eyes rimmed red from what I assumed was all her crying. In her arms, she clutched a doll and I remember the missing girl’s parents, of them walking along across the street, holding a doll that looks just like this one. Except this doll is clearly meant to be a boy. Whereas I think the girl’s parents had a doll with brown pigtails, this one had short, curly black hair.
“Can I leave you these?” The woman asked, holding out a pile of missing person’s flyers and I slowly took them, looking down at the picture of the young boy with curly black hair. He looks unsettlingly familiar to the doll his mother was now holding in her arms.
“Of course, I’ll make sure people get them.” I assure her, setting them on my counter and she offers me a shaky smile and goes to turn, but something bugs me so I reached out to touch her shoulder, stopping her. “Sorry, but where did you get that doll?” She looks at me questioningly and I quickly add on, “It’s cute, I think I want to get one for my girlfriend’s kid.”
“Oh.” She looked down at the doll, her fingers slowly stroking through the dark curls. “I got it in the mail. I’m not sure who sent it, but it looks just like my little Thomas that I can’t…” she trails off and then gives me another smile before slowly leaving my shop.
In the mail? I thought to myself about how weird that was and then I wonder if the missing girl’s parents had also gotten theirs in the mail too. Something about it makes me shiver each time I think about it.
Eventually, things quieted. There were no more kidnappings and it’s been about three months since the last one. Every now and then, I still see the missing kids’ parents walking around town, holding their dolls, but other than that, everything is normal.
Until last week when another kid went missing.
An eight year old girl named Sandra had gone missing from her bedroom, window open, no evidence as to who had done it. And this girl was known around town. She was friendly and outgoing and often went around town asking people if they had boxes she could have--you see, she was trying to build a huge fort. I’ve given her a few when I have them, and I’ve even cut her hair, fiery red and as curly as I’ve ever seen. She was a kid you remembered. So when she went missing just like the two kids from all those months before, it got people talking, worried. A few of the parents have started wondering if they should put bars on their kids’ windows to keep anyone from sneaking in. The town was in a frenzy now that three kids in less than half a year had gone missing from our small, safe town.
Even my girlfriend is terrified. She’s started making her daughter sleep in her room until they catch the creep who is doing this.
But that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point I’m trying to make is that yesterday the girl’s mother came in, hair just as red as her daughter’s, and in her hands she had a doll. The same exact doll as the other two families had, except this one was once again a girl, and she had fiery red, curly hair. It looked just like Sandra’s hair.
“Where did you get that?” I asked her as she came in, leaving me some flyers just as the last mother had done so.
The woman looked down at the doll, lovingly stroking her fingers through the hair. “In the mail. I don’t know who sent it, but it looks so much like my Sandra that I just…” Her eyes filled with tears and I decided not to press anymore. Instead I just stared into the beady eyes that almost seemed to glint as the light hit it, and then I had a sudden thought.
“Can I see it? Just for a moment? The hair is just so real looking…” I tell her gently and she looks back up at me. She then slowly handed me the doll and I took it and I ran my fingers through the synthetic hair of it, except…
I don’t think it’s synthetic.
I quickly gave it back to her, feeling a sudden chill shoot down my spine. “Thank you.” I told her and she nodded and soon left my shop.
I think back to the other two dolls I saw. How the last one had the same exact hair as the boy who was kidnapped, and then the brown pigtails and I bet their daughter wore her hair the same way. I don’t know why, but something just feels off about it and I’m not sure what to do.
I’m pretty sure that’s not synthetic hair on the dolls, but the idea it could be the kids’ hair… am I insane? Maybe whoever was making the dolls and sending it to the parents are just buying hair that looks like their kids’ and using it for comfort reasons? It’s not like there aren’t missing person’s posters up all over town. Everyone knows what these kids look like.
Should I go to the police with my suspicions or am I just insane? But what if I don’t say anything and more kids are kidnapped and more dolls suddenly in their family’s arms?
And what if I say nothing and the next kid that is kidnapped is my girlfriend’s?
x

• The title is “Seewald Kids Bedroom Update”, so I thought, you know, the whole bedroom would be updated. Maybe a new coat of paint, a cute set of bunk beds and so on.
•Spoiler alert: Jessa builds a twin bed bunk over the queen bed that’s already there. That’s it.
• I bought bunk beds for my kids last year. They’re not THAT expensive. She couldn’t have looked on Facebook Marketplace?
• Jessa is looking rough. She’s aged the fastest out of her sisters.
• She says they have the queen bed for “guests”. What guests? You don’t have any real friends and both your families live within driving distance!
• Pants in public!
• While at Lowe’s, Jessa let the boys crawl and hang all over the cart. I thought one or both were going to lose their grip and crack their head open!
• She sands off the numbers on the wood, calling them “unsightly”. Girl, have you SEEN your dirty house?!? And if you’re going to go through the trouble of building from scratch, why wouldn’t you stain or paint it? Or get one of your numerous unemployed siblings to do it for you?
• Spurgeon’s not as cute or eloquent as his mother thinks he is.
• The whole bunk ends up looking unfinished and somehow both too small AND too big with the queen bed under it. Looks more like a storage shelf for a shed then a kid’s bunk bed.

Let me tell you about Sam, the most pedantic and overanalyzing fucker that I’ve ever had the misfortune of playing with. I’m changing his IRL name but not the name of his character, because this is a homebrew and if he somehow sees this he’ll know I’m talking about him anyways, as I’m going to go into lots of specifics. Be forewarned that this is going to be extremely long since I’m going to basically recount the entire campaign so far, but mainly I need to get this off my chest so I can let it go. Somewhat shorter TL;DR at the bottom.
So. To understand the story, you’ll need a bit of background. This campaign started a couple months ago and is 100% on Discord and Roll20. I was invited by a friend I met in a Pathfinder server that we both later left for various reasons, but kept in touch on and off for a while. He and the rest of the players all know each other IRL and live in California. I live in Minnesota, so two hours ahead of them, which is relevant.
As mentioned, this was a homebrew campaign. The DM gave us a ton of information about the world, where we were starting, and other such background info. Basically, the BBEG is called the Overlord, ten years ago he put up magical elemental barriers around all of the cities and stationed Death Knights in each city to... do something. Keep the peace and intimidate everyone, I guess. His motives are still unclear to us. Anyway. Our characters were basically tasked with starting and leading a resistance against him, killing the Death Knights and freeing the cities one by one.
We started off in a pretty small and poor city in the mountains that was walled off by a wind barrier. I made a changeling rogue named Arilies who worked as a bartender at the only tavern in town for a former thief turned mastermind dwarf (Hammerspike), who also essentially raised me. No one but him and a couple other NPCs knew I was a changeling. Sam made a storytelling bard named Jean, but he’s one of those players who can’t separate themselves from their character, so Jean had practically no characterization and his background didn’t matter. In all respects, he was Sam. We also had four other people in our group (not counting the DM), which worried me because I had never been in that large of a group before and I was worried it would cause sessions to run long, which was bad for me because as previously stated, I was two hours ahead of them, our games are on Sundays, and I get up early for work. But the number of players was not the cause of game sessions running long.
Now, my memory of the first few sessions is a bit hazy because they were months ago and a lot has happened since then, but I will do my best to recount the relevant events. I’m also mainly going to refer to this person as their character’s name except when making a distinction between the two, since Jean is just a mouthpiece for Sam.
I missed the first session for reasons now forgotten, but during the second session I immediately began to get annoying vibes from Jean. During the previous session he had gone out into the woods to search for an important NPC because he misinterpreted a note that Hammerspike gave him and missed curfew, meaning he had to stay out there all night, avoiding the Death Knight’s mysterious guards and pretty much not getting any sleep. In the morning, my character and one other went out to find him and bring him back to town, as well as gather information about where the important NPC was. Once back in town, Jean started essentially ragging on Hammerspike to my character, saying things like ‘he can’t be trusted’ and ‘he sent me out into the woods alone after dark,’ etc etc, and Arilies basically yelled at him that he didn’t understand Hammerspike’s note and it was his own fault, and that Hammerspike was trying to start a resistance to save the world. Jean basically said I was being lied to until the DM interjected and said I was right and the note told him to go to the tavern to discuss the situation and rescue of the important NPC, not to go rescue the NPC immediately.
The campaign gets rolling and while we’re talking about what we learned in the forest, a boulder smashes through the tavern’s front window and a bunch of guards rush through. We start the fight and Jean, out of nowhere, starts talking about siege weaponry, its range, and its reloading time, getting increasingly more insistent that the enemies must have a trebuchet or something and we should be ready for another attack, even though we’re in the middle of town and there aren’t any trebuchets in sight. Some dudes just hurled a big rock through the window, and the DM has to shut him down again.
So next session, we need to go confront the Death Knight, which means getting through a big locked gate, crossing a bridge, and storming his castle. Jean immediately starts talking about the labor required to build the castle, where they sourced the stones from, how long t would have taken to build the castle, and just a bunch of other completely irrelevant shit. Once we manage to get him back on track to the problem of getting through the gate, which the DM basically gives us a bomb for, it’s another (at least) 30 minute discussion about if we should use the bomb, are there other ways into the castle, what about the guards, etc, until the DM shuts him down and basically says ‘trust me, this is the intro act, I’m not going to throw complicated puzzles at you or give you bad options just yet.’ So we wind up just blowing open the gate and going through, encountering no guards (which was weird). We solve the puzzle in the castle, defeat the Death Knight, and rescue the important NPC with little hassle.
Now we need to choose which city to go to next. There are two options: go to a city with a big cavern in the middle of it, or go to a city surrounded by fire. Both of these problems are getting worse (cavern widening, fire barrier encroaching on the city), and we spend a good hour or so talking about which to go to. And when I say “we,” I mean Jean does 50% of the talking and the other 50% is split between the other five players and DM. Jean argues about how we’re going to get past the fire barrier and how it’s impossible and seems to me that he had a very defeatist attitude of ‘we can’t get past it so we shouldn’t try.’ Eventually I got tired of him dragging the conversation on way longer than it had any right to be and said ‘let’s just go to the fire city and if we can’t get past the barrier we’ll turn around and go to the other one,’ which was amenable to Jean.
So we go there and of course our DM gives us a way through the fire barrier. The city is on a big river, which the barrier extends out over, but there’s an underwater tunnel we can swim through to get underneath it, guided by an NPC. We get into the city, fight the main antagonists who teleport away after taking some damage, and the local bar owner tells us that that means they’ll be out of commission for 24 hours. Still, Jean argues that we can’t stay at the inn because what if they come back and kill us, etc, and the DM has to shut him down again by explicitly telling him that he set up a situation where we wouldn’t have to worry about being in danger overnight. He drops it and we move on to discussing what to do. There’s a castle by the river that we assume the Death Knight is in, so Arilies volunteers to go scout it overnight, to which Jean makes some snide remarks about how everyone supports Arilies going to scout out the castle but when he went out at night to go scouting everyone was mad at him. I ignored it and no one else responded, but I am thoroughly annoyed with him at this point.
Also at some point he directly asked about my character’s gender to which I replied that Arilies is vague about it and doesn’t correct anyone regardless of what pronouns/genders they refer to him as. (I assumed this conversation was out-of-character.) During roleplays and in session, I switch up Arilies’ pronouns constantly to keep it ambiguous. Technically they’re agender but don’t really define themselves as such, and just doesn’t talk about it.
By this point I’ve privately talked to the DM about Jean and how much overthinking and assuming he does, causing the sessions to drag on four hours longer than necessary, and how that directly affects me because I’m two hours ahead of everyone else and need to go to bed at a reasonable time to get up for work in the morning. The DM said he’d talk to Jean about it and he toned it down for a session at some point before reverting to his old ways.
Out-of-session in a private roleplay with the DM, Arilies goes and scouts the place, taking the face of one of the villagers to not draw suspicion, and sees that the castle is completely surrounded by hundreds of guards. I return to the bar and bang the hot tiefling bartender (which was a ‘fade to black’ thing in the private roleplay) and fall asleep in his room, which is in a hallway behind the bar (aka I’d have to walk past the bar in the morning to get back up to my room).
During the next session only three players were able to attend, so the DM said it would be a shorter session just in the tavern. It was not a shorter session because Jean was there and things kind of came to a head between us. It started out with Jean and another character at the bar while mine still slept in the bartender’s room, only waking in a panic when the bartender came in to get me up. (Bartender is male, Arilies is presenting androgynous/masculine.) Arilies hurriedly dresses while I all but die of embarrassment roleplaying this out with the DM and rushes out to the main area. I intended this to be a funny moment, but in a stunning display of meta gaming that Jean claims he doesn’t do, Jean said something along the lines of ‘well we know that Arilies can change gender, so-’ before I cut him off and basically yelled at him that ‘he does not know that Arilies is a changeling’ because it is a huge character beat for Arilies to reveal that she’s a changeling to the group because of a lot of past trauma surrounding her race and she has a hard time trusting people etc etc, so I didn’t want that moment to be ruined by Jean’s stupid meta gaming and taking a clearly out of character conversation and applying it to in character knowledge. So the DM broke us up, said that Jean doesn’t know about Arilies’ shapeshifting, and the funny moment was thoroughly ruined as Arilies rushed up to his room to make himself presentable.
Arilies went back down to the bar and we started talking about options for tackling the antagonists from the previous day (the Fire Twins), talking about the intel Arilies got about the castle, and talking to the bar owner who has his ear to the ground. He tells us that there’s an underground sewer way that goes right to the castle and that he has a scouting raven that will go look at the guard situation at the castle during the day. So we start talking about ways to approach the castle and/or deal with the Fire Twins, and Jean starts talking about evacuating the entire city via the underwater tunnel we used to bypass the barrier and that two of us almost didn’t make it through. Now, this wouldn’t work for numerous reasons: it would be obvious, the Death Knight would probably stop us and there would be civilian casualties, there’s no practical way to evacuate people through this tunnel, where would they go, etc etc, all of which Arilies argued in one way or another. As a side point, Arilies grew up in this city which the rest of the part does not know at this point, so she is extremely reticent to putting the townspeople in danger if it’s avoidable. Jean would not let this point go so I basically had to yell at him that we are not going to risk the lives of the townspeople and we’ll need to find some other way to lure out the Twins/Death Knight. Jean finally relented and we moved onto the next topic. Oh boy.
This is where it really gets off the rails. Jean turns to the tiefling bartender and starts asking if his demon ancestor could help us, to which Arilies calls him racist. Now, this was a very bad choice on my part and I acknowledge that. My reasoning was that Arilies likes the bartender way more than Jean, and from previous campaigns I as the player know that some tieflings really despise their demon ancestry and it may be a sensitive subject, so I was going off that to... try and make a joke? I guess? I don’t know what I was trying to do honestly, I was still full of adrenaline from arguing with him and I made a bad call. But that ground the entire session to a halt.
Sam immediately got super offended and the DM paused the session to talk about what just happened. I don’t remember a lot of the conversation, but from what Sam said, it was clear that he thought that I, Lava the player, was calling him, Sam the player, racist, which was not at all what I meant. I acknowledged that I made a bad call, apologized, and retracted the statement, which the DM supported and retconned it so it canonically didn’t happen. This brought to light that Jean was just a mouthpiece for Sam and had very little characterization. The other player in the session (who knew Sam IRL) even piped up and said that there really wasn’t anything separating Jean from Sam. Throughout the whole campaign thus far, Sam hasn’t engaged in very much roleplaying, only what was absolutely necessary/the bare minimum, and didn’t do a single thing that defined him as a bard. Whereas on the other hand, I am all for roleplaying. I love it, both in session and out of session, and Arilies is extremely distinct from me, so I didn’t realize that when Arilies called Jean racist, he took that as Lava calling Sam racist. Again, which I apologized for and retconned and to this day am ashamed by it, but it opened up an important conversation where a lot of things were laid out on the metaphorical table. The DM told Sam to stop overthinking everything and bringing in ideas that the DM hasn’t even hinted at. The DM said that if he wanted the bartender’s demon ancestor to be in the game, he would have had the bartender talk about his ancestor at some point. Again trying to reign in Jean’s overthinking and assumptions about the world. The session ended there.
The next day I messaged Sam privately to once again apologize and explain my thinking, and express my frustrations with his playstyle, including that it directly affects me when he drags on conversations for way longer than necessary because he’s thinking about wholly irrelevant details that don’t matter because I’m two hours ahead of them and have work early in the morning. We go back and forth for a while in an amicable fashion, but he doesn’t really apologize for anything and even compares me to Donald Trump since he said I acted maliciously and turned to insulting him when I started losing an argument, just like the (then President) does. Which. No. I wasn’t malicious, I made a bad call and repeatedly apologized for it and retconned it, which he also said he doesn’t believe in retconning?? So luckily he talked to the DM, who confirmed it was retconned and didn’t happen, and I expressed my utter disgust at being compared to Donnie T and how it was more insulting than anything he’s done so far. Which he also never apologized for. But the conversation ended amicably enough with me saying that I thought Jean and Arilies mending the rift between them would be a pivotal character moment for her learning to trust others and that I hope we could be friends, to which he expressed his doubt on the latter and didn’t really say anything on the former.
The next session started and we decided to investigate the sewers leading to the castle. There’s a combat encounter where Jean expresses disdain about not being able to do more, but not much else happens with him.
We get back to the tavern and decide to go fight the Fire Twins. During that conversation Arilies reveals to the party that he grew up in this city and knows one of the Twins (the other Twin said her name previously - Syldi) and is going to try and confront her during the encounter. We spend an inordinate amount of time trying to think of where to confront them, how to get their attention, what to do, etc. Jean of course tries to think of numerous ways to incapacitate them, including tying them up, laying a trap for them, or throwing water on them, which he keeps coming back to and is obsessed with the idea of dousing them in water, even though they’re not literally on fire and just use fire magic. He also said something about taking their wand away and the DM had to correct him and say that neither of them use wands, one has a sword and one a bow that they fire flaming arrows from. Anyway I finally get the party moving towards the area that we fought them previously. We’d been keeping track of the hours until they “respawn” (remember, they had a 24 hour cooldown after teleporting away that we learned from the bar owner) and should have gotten there with plenty of time to prepare, but on our way we ran into them. Surprise!
So the rest of the party fights the dude with the sword while Arilies rushes to confront her friend from the past (and lover, but the party doesn’t know that). This is when Arilies revealed that they’re a changeling by changing back into the person that she was while living in the city. She managed to break Syldi’s mind control and they had a long conversation about the Overlord and Death Knights (surprise, she was one), to which Jean thankfully waited a while before jumping in to. Then the Overlord showed up, cast something that pinned everyone to the ground, and Jean immediately started to try everything and anything to get at him, even though none of us could move, and basically derailed the Overlord’s speech until he just teleported himself and Syldiaway. After the session the DM told me that he had planned on revealing more but everyone was talking over everyone and trying to do stuff that wouldn’t work and he didn’t get a chance to make them listen, which I was annoyed about. We returned to the tavern and the session ended. Between sessions I roleplayed a couple conversations between Arilies, the bartender, and some other player characters basically talking about being a changeling and do they hate her, etc, and drinking heavily because of what happened to Syldi.
The next session started with the next morning. Arilies and one other character were very hungover, and Jean’s assholery was ramped up to eleven. The session started with our hungover goblin character and Jean at the bar, and our goliath character coming up behind the goblin and clapping loudly behind his head to startle him. He got startled and swung at the goliath, who caught his hand and no damage was done to either character. They kind of laughed it off and sat down to have breakfast. But not Jean. Oh no. He would not let it go. He was chiding them because ‘he can’t have his teammates at each others’ throats’ and he can’t have infighting, why are they fighting, etc. The goliath apologized to the goblin and everything was cool. Right? No, of course not. Jean would not fucking drop it. At this point Arilies comes downstairs, very hungover, and Jean tries to drag Arilies into the situation to chide the other two, but Arilies dismisses it because I really didn’t want to argue with Jean again. So then Jean starts shaming Arilies and the goblin for ‘being sloshed’ this early in the morning, apparently not understanding that we’re not drunk, we’re hungover, and basically starts shaming us for drinking and ‘wasting magic.’ Which. The DM said our hangovers would fade in a couple hours, we didn’t need magical cures, but Jean kept bringing it up about ‘wasting magic’ or some shit. I don’t know what he was on about, but I kind of snapped at him that Arilies had a damn good reason to drink the night before.
Eventually this gets dropped and the session moves on to Jean talking about confronting the Overlord and how can we defeat him when he can teleport anywhere and kill us instantly, or wipe out a whole town, or something along those lines. He also brings up the god/demon he made a pact with, which is literally just a wild assumption. We don’t know anything about the Overlord at this point, much less IF he made a pact with someone. We spend a stupid amount of time talking about something that literally doesn’t matter at this point in the campaign (we’re level 4). Jean doesn’t seem to grasp that the Overlord won’t just teleport in and kill us, because he had ample opportunity to do that already and he hasn’t, plus that would make for a really shitty campaign. He’s basically saying that because the Overlord can do all of this stuff, we shouldn’t even try to continue or something. I don’t know, but he seemed very defeatist.
Finally we get around to the task at hand, which is dealing with some fanatics in the town who worshipped the Fire Twins as gods or something. We agree on trying to talk to them first because we don’t want to just roll up and murder a bunch of misguided civilians, and I try to encourage Jean to lead the encounter because he’s a bard and ‘this is what he does, right? Talk to people?’ But Jean tosses out the idea that Arilies could transform into Syldi and get them to step down, which Arilies gives her reluctant acceptance (he doesn’t turn into people she knows and he doesn’t like Jean just casually outing him as a changeling to the entire bar), but the bar owner said that he already spread the word that the Twins died, so that plan wouldn’t work. Jean still insisted Arilies be the point person for talking to people. At some point he starts questioning what we can do about the situation since we’re leaving the town soon and won’t be around to continue to talk to them. The bar owner says not to worry about it, he’ll take care of the fallout (aka the DM dropping a direct hint to not worry about it and move on), but Jean will not. Fucking. Drop it. He keeps talking about scenarios and stuff that the DM has all but directly told him to ignore/it’s not a problem, but he will not stop talking. He also brings up that if we remove the fire barrier (which we now have the ability to do), how will the city defend itself from outside threats? Can we just make a hole in the barrier for people to pass through? To which again, the bar owner says that they’ll be able to defend the city and Jean immediately asks how they plan to do that, they don’t have a militia, etc etc just inane bullshit.
At this point it was around 8 pm my time and I was really annoyed: two and a half hours into the session and we weren’t even past breakfast. I wound up blowing up at him, saying just that and how I needed to go to bed in an houhour and a half or so since I had work early the next morning, and if Arilies is going to be the lynchpin for the encounter then we’d have to stop in the middle. The DM called for a 15 minute break just then, which I was annoyed at initially but ultimately appreciated, and he pulled Sam into a private call that went for half an hour, lol. I joked with the others that it would probably be an hour until they were back.
When they did come back, the DM had us go to the part of town where the fanatics were and then break until the next session, which I ultimately really appreciated because it gave me time to plan what Arilies would say & do and it turned out really cool. But between sessions Sam posted an extremely insulting message in our discord server basically insulting the campaign, calling the Overlord stupid, and rage quitting. He’d been insulting the Overlord and Death Knights pretty much the entire campaign, calling them and their motivations stupid, and we all kind of ignored him. He would repeatedly question and insult the DM’s decisions, world building, map, lore, NPCs, and make wild assumptions about literally everything, then build wild scenarios in “intel reports” he would send to the group between sessions. I don’t think anyone except myself even looked at them, and literally none of them were ever relevant to later sessions. He also expressed regret about building a social skills character since he misunderstood what a “resistance campaign” would entail, and said somewhat saltily that if he had known what the campaign would be like he would have just built a “mallet” character instead.
A couple sessions have since gone by and the game is much improved, to the point that our DM directly called out at the end of last session how much smoother and quicker the sessions were going than the ones from a month ago. He didn’t name-drop Sam, but it was heavily implied his absence was the reason why.
TL;DR:

• Player creates a storytelling bard that he doesn’t roleplay as a bard at all (he barely roleplays at all in a roleplay-moderate campaign)
• He questions the DM at almost every turn
• He makes wild assumptions about the campaign that are literally never correct
• He goes on long tangents talking about barely-irrelevant or wholly irrelevant details
• He insults the campaign, worldbuilding, and villain motivations
• He overthinks everything and drags out conversations because of it for literally hours. (This is bad for me because I’m 2 hours ahead of them and our games are on Sundays, and I have work early in the morning)