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2023.03.23 12:17 browneorum NoP: Offspring. Chapter 27. Simbelmynë.
u/SpacePaladin15's universe, my story/characters.
---
Memory transcription subject: Yotun, son of Laenar and Arrut.
Date [standardised human time]: May 5th, 2120
(16 years, 4 months before the invasion of the gojid Cradle).
Yotun runs in the night.
He is running from the forest, from the chittering, clacking dead things that skitter across his trail. A phantom moon hangs above, a dark star shining shadows. It’s non-light leaves pools of moonlight in the gloom. The only true light, orange and warm, ebbs distantly from his home, barely visible downhill between the trees. He just needs to reach it…
His pursuers make themselves known with shrill shrieks; young brynn, flesh sloughing from their blackening bones. Many are missing large chunks of flesh, braying exaltedly as their viscera drag across the ground. The corpses press close, clipping at his heels, hooves clattering together as they stagger after him. They herd around him, giggling and squealing, trying to change his course.
“It’s not safe,” one whispers.
“Yessssss,” the others chorus.
“P-please!” he begs them. “Leave me alone!”
“Not safe!” They chant, their voices screeching like teeth on empty plates. “Not safe not safe not safe not safe!” They fill his sight as his feet pound the ground, their slacken faces and rolling tongues a grotesque portrait. Then he is running through the vineyards and up the cinderblock steps in three dream strides, the orange glow as bright and total as the dawn. He bursts through the back door. His parents are standing at the dining table, conferring in whispers as they peer beneath a massive sheet across it. They look up sharply at his hasty entrance.
“Oh,” his mother beams, lowering the cloth. “There you are.”
“Someone must be hungry!” his father laughs, the man smiling in a way he never seems to. Honestly. He is home, Yotun realises as his heart settles. He must be safe.
“C’mon dearest,” his mother says, “You’re just in time for dinner.”
He sits in his chair, the wood rough like bark.
“What’re we having?” he asks, looking down at the covered meal.
“Your favourite!” she squeals, pulling the cloth back. The table is covered with a fine sample of their vineyards and crops. Brightly coloured fruit, ripe and tender, paired with well roasted vegetables and seasoned tubers. Surely no other farmhands on the Cradle eats so well! But at the centre of the table sits the young brynn, blinking at them with dim animal eyes, its legs tucked tight beneath it. His mother moves to his left, and hands him a knife. Yotun looks uncertainly at his father, but the man just rubs his paws together, a big grin on his face.
“Go on, tuck in!” his mother says. Yotun gawps at her.
“N-no… I don’t want to…”
“You’ll eat it,” his father says sternly. “We put a lot of work into this.”
“No, I… p-please…” Something was not right.
“You won’t get your vegetables till you’ve had your brynn!” his mother scolds him. He sits there, open mouthed. Grumbling, Arrut snatches the knife from him.
“Here,” he says, “I’ll get you started.” In a swift, impossibly strong stroke, he cuts through the animal’s neck, decapitating it as if it were a stuffed toy. Blood splatters across table, soaking into the tablecloth; the head lands like a grim delicacy in the salad bowl. Yotun screams, covering his eyes. He slides to the floor, the tree giving up all pretence of being a chair. Without looking he knows he’s back in the forest, the smell of sap strong in his nose. A presence, felt but unseen, leans close.
“Are you scared?” she whispers, the words a breath on his throat. Yotun opens his mouth to speak but only a shrill wheezing comes out.
A rumbling sound woke Yotun with a start. He sat at the bus stop, fields of anuana stretching away on the other side of the road like a rolling avalanche. Down the road, the bus was approaching. Pulling his journal from his pack, he quickly took some notes on his dream before they faded. He had not been sure why Rylett was getting him to do so at first, all it did was reminded him of his dread, the terrible depth of his nightly terrors. But the more he did so, the more he saw in them. For one the smell might be more visceral, in another the colours more vivid. Some he would go most of the night without recalling any detail, save one sour note. Some days, some blessed morns, he woke not remembering a thing. A shadowy moon cloaked in light…
The transport shuddered to a stop, the blue paint chipping above the wheels. This far from the town of Yuret, the autonomous vehicle only had one occupant. The doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, Callio’s small pack bouncing as she skipped down the steps. The girl smiled as she saw him.
“Did you fall asleep?” she asked at once, watching him yawn and stretch. The bus started up again, emitting a low hum as it continued on its route.
“No…” he said, pawing an eye.
“Liar,” she said, sitting on the bench beside him. That woke him up. “So,” she said, swinging her legs. “You snuck out after all.”
“Couldn’t let you get lost on your own, hm?” he grinned, shaking his head. “If our parents knew…”
“Yotun,” she laughed, rolling her eyes as she jumped up happily. “That’s what the sneaking is for!” Callio put her paws on her hips.
“Ready?” she giggled. Yotun could not supress his grin as he stood.
“C’mon,” he chuckled, “it’s a long walk!”
The main road was not far from his family’s property, connecting Bendara on the western coast and Yuret to the southeast. Calling it the ‘main road’ was also something of a misnomer, as most traffic between the two settlements was airborne. Few, if any, would see the two teenagers wandering off into the woods.
The tour of the Brackwood had been more fun than he had expected, but Callio had become obsessed. Their time between classes was mostly spent talking about and comparing notes and drawings on what they had found on their respective borders of the territory. Callio had even brought in a dylia, a long, thin, green insectoid in a jar to show him. Rylett had not been impressed when she saw, even if she told them to keep it to themselves.
But that had not stopped them, and Callio still wanted to see more. In particular, she wanted to see the kuru again, those strange ghostly creatures.
“C’mon,” she had whined. “It’d take me so long to walk out there from my house. Couldn’t we go together? Your house is right there.” And he could not exactly say no to her, could he? She was his only real friend, and was it so bad if he wanted to spend some time with her? Shit. She’s sure plucked my quills enough to convince me of this, he admitted.
Winter was starting to wane at last, spring urging the forest to wake. This was a good time for his family, the vineyards starting to cultivate again. More to grow meant more work for his parents, which suited Yotun’s school break fine. It also meant that the dominar had shot up, and they had to cut through the roiling fields of sun-gold stems. A straight line turned into a meander, turned into a chase, the pair giggling like all children should, running beneath an open sky. Breathless, they exited the field on the forest side to find their path writ into the crop, as though a brynn had stampeded through. Not wanting to dawdle lest neighbour Maggit arrive, they set off into the Brackwood, roguish smiles on their faces.
Ahead, the snow had retreated back into icy caps on the mountains. All that meltwater would be turning the seas to a broil; even here in the foothills, where it was clear and sunny, there was still a wetness to the soil. The trees had started to sense springs coy fingers, drawing out the first hints of green and blue stems from renewed branches. Even in dead things, nature finds new life, Yotun reflected.
The pair made good time; Callio’s enthusiasm dragged him most of the way. They stopped to rest on his overhang before midday, where he had come to draw in solitude but had found then lost a friend. He had not come back since, but it was as he had left it all those months ago. The outstretch of rock with its log for a bench, a crowd of its living fellows standing cautiously nearby as if goading one of their number to lift its roots and plummet from on high. The wind whistled but carried no voice.
“Look,” Yotun said breathily, pointing downhill to the slab of grey amongst its rows of vines. “You can see my house from here.” He strained his eyes along the peaks to the southeast, then down into the plains. “And there’s Yuret.” he added, noting the peaks of silver towers spread between circular pastures of green. Callio was still admiring the property, watching the regular mechanical motions of the little drones spraying pesticides. From this distance they looked like insects themselves.
“Your dad’s still growing his trees?” she asked. Yotun nodded, gesturing to a seemingly barren patch at the forest's edge below them. His father had taken to the idea with a strange zeal.
“Down there.” He laughed. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“I think it’s nice,” Callio said with a smirk. “Don’t you?”
“I guess.” Yotun mumbled. “I just don’t see it lasting. He only cares about the vineyards, anything that doesn’t add to that…” He shrugged. “What about your dad? Isn’t he gonna be upset that you’ve run off out here?” She spun away from him, wandering up to the trees.
“He worries too much. I told him I was going into town.” With one last look down at his home, he moseyed after her. So brazen, he noted, the thought tickling him. Callio glanced at him as he joined her, her brown doe eyes narrowing with a smirk on her lips.
“What?” she asked coyly, tossing her head and folding her arms. “Do you disapprove?”
“Since when do you need my approval?” he laughed. “It’s just… out of character.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning forward with a scandalised expression. “And what exactly is my ‘character’?” Yotun chuckled.
“Little light in the tunnel, not one to work against the grain.” He smiled impishly. “What would they say of Miss Perfect stomping off into the woods with the likes of me?” Her smirk was fixed even when she rolled her eyes.
“Perfect, eh? Well would Miss Perfect do this?” she hooted, giving him a sharp shove. He fell solidly onto his rump, the damp forest floor wetting his fur. Callio’s snorting snigger at his shocked expression warmed him against the chill.
“Oh, that’s it!” he giggled, picking up a patch of sodden muck and flinging it at her with a hefty splat! She gasped, the girl gaping down at the brown mud coating her soft cream-coloured fur. For a moment, he thought he had ruined everything. Then her gasp became a giggle, became a cackle. He started laughing too, falling onto his back.
“Aha… You idiot!” she wheezed as she trotted over to him.
“Ah… serves you right,” he tittered wiping the dirt from himself, and taking her offered paw. It felt firm and sure in his own. Callio looked down at her mucky fur again.
“Papa’s gonna kill me,” she chuckled trying to work it out with her claws.
“Sorry,” Yotun winced. Such a silly thing to do. He ran a claw through a rough patch, gently teasing the dirt out. His paw drifted up the blot, and he felt Callio’s breath hitch as his paw moved across her chest. He froze, realising what he had absently done. Their eyes met, and he wondered if his own exposed his feelings so clearly.
She stepped away, abashedly, working up to the treeline again. Yotun’s brain was doing somersaults, whilst simultaneously thinking about soap for some reason.
“Woah,” Callio said looking up at the hollow tree, “that’s neat”. She stuck her head inside. “Ha! It’s super echoey.” Her voice boomed. “Listen to that! Helloooo! Hellllooooo!” There was a moment's silence. “Hey, come look at this…”
“What?” he murmured, bending down into the crevice beside her. She pointed to deep gouges on the dead interior.
“Claw marks,” she mumbled, following the trail up. “Something climbed up here.” Or someone… he ruminated, running his thumb across a deep scratch. She was always one step ahead, ever out of reach. “You alright?” Callio asked.
“Yeah, you just… reminded me of someone.”
“Someone good, I hope.”
They were very close, sitting in that hollow. He nodded uphill. “C’mon.”
“More climbing?!” she huffed. “I’m so tired!”
“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “I promise.”
During late spring and summer, the foliage grew too dense to pass through, blocking passage into the rest of the estate. But in the earliest weeks of spring the cut path into the Brackwood was clear enough to gain egress. He had only come out this far once or twice since he had first found that hidden trail, all those years ago.
The path, which started near his family’s vineyards, stretched up into a pass between two low mountains. Dormant trees, too high and too cold for spring, and any awlets nesting there were all who noted their passing. The higher they climbed, the dearer the drop to each side. Even the trees seemed to fall away as they walked, loose soil giving way to steep summits of stone. They were panting hard as they reached the apex, but a wall of white sound was all they could hear. Yotun wore a grin as they crested the rise.
Before them stretched the long descent into the west. Curving to the north, in a misty surge was the source of the white noise. The waterfall, pale and bright, flowed from a narrow opening in the solid granite; at least, it seemed narrow from this distance. In actuality the bus Callio had taken could probably be propelled out of that chute. It must have been carved out from tens of millions of years of thaw, tens of millions of springs. The water fell in a roar —crying liberation from the cold— into a massive lake at its foot, a tributary of the larger rivers in the forest. Though they could not see it, Yotun knew the river would be strong now, made all the harsher by Ki-yu’s rage. Down there, between the greening trees, the water was white and frothing with the last of winter’s bite.
“Wow,” Callio gasped, her fatigue vanishing. Her brown eyes followed the sharp folds of the mountains westward, the hidden slopes and valleys too few knew. “Okay… that was worth it.”
“Told you so,” he tittered breathily. “See that?” he told her, pointing to the most western and modest peak. “That’s where Turin found me when I wandered out here.” It was smaller than he had thought, more of a large hill than the mountain he supposed. He recalled surprisingly little from his march across the forest. His strongest memory was that he had to keep moving, and never go home.
“You did all that?” she glanced down into the valley. Yotun flexed his jaw, watching how the blue of the sky met with the silver mountains.
“Yeah, well… I couldn’t sleep.” Some little bellboys dove from a high point beside the waterfall, dancing through the mist to wash. Callio took his paw beside him.
“Thank you, Yotun.”
“It’s okay,” he said, looking up to gauge the sun’s passage. “We should probably head back soon.”
“Oh, couldn’t we go a little further?” she asked.
“I don’t know much more beyond this point,” he shrugged. She smiled sunnily at him.
“Pleaaase…” she whined.
“Well,” he sighed, as though he had not thought this far ahead. “There is one more thing. It’s not far.”
They followed the trail further along the ridge, the wind sweeping up to play with their fur. Eventually, a forest path cut off from the main trail, threading between the trees. The meagre offering of allfurs tried to form a thin canopy, their bristling green cones instead littering the forest floor. Brush and bushes also grew dense here, meaning they could see the sky far better than their feet. Still, the path was easier than he had expected and had clearly seen some recent use.
Callio did not seem to mind the detour, nor the difficult terrain. I could be leading her anywhere, and still, she follows me. She trusts me, he realised. It should not have come as a surprise, but something about that fact was a minor revelation.
Just when he was worried he had led them astray, Yotun stepped out of the treeline and into the sheltered clearing. A fresh crop of pale white blossoms with golden-yellow hearts had come up, a living echo of snow’s thaw. Beneath their green stems the ground was soft and rolling, warmed ever so gently by the sun’s rays. A log had fallen through the dell and across the thin trickling stream that cut through the idyllic little spot. Tiny insects flittered about on soft wings, dancing with and chasing each other between the petals. It was beautiful.
Callio almost pushed past him, stopping in her tracks. She spent a few seconds processing the image before her, then peered at him like he had just produced a hovercraft out of thin air. She laughed, covering her mouth with a paw, and stepped forward into the clearing. The bugs flew up at her passing, buzzing about her as she stepped through the petals.
“They’re so pretty!” she remarked, bending down to touch a crèche of white flowers growing in a mound.
“Evermind,” he told her. “Mother grows some by the window.”
“Oh!” she gasped. “Like the poem?”
“Poem?” He sat against the log.
“You know the one,” she laughed, tilting her head.
“Leaf-maker, night-blind,
Candle in a jar.
For but a taste of evermind,
I wander, lone, afar.”
With a sheepish smile, he bent down and plucked up a flower.
“Here,” he said, handing her the stem. “Now you won’t have to wander anywhere.” His own words sent something wriggling in his stomach, afraid of what he was saying.
“Silly boy,” Callio laughed but accepted the gift. She sat in the sun beside him.
“S-sorry,” he said clumsily. “That was really weird. Everyone thinks I’m weird.”
“You are weird, you silly boy!” she said sweetly. “It’s what I like about you.” Yotun smiled bashfully, words forgotten to the soaring feeling in his chest.
“I, uh… I do approve… by the way.” he said in hushed tones. Her eyes making his heart thunder. “O-of this… of you…” Callio twiddled the flower between her digits, glancing from its petals to him and back again. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“F-for what it’s worth,” she breathed, “I think you’re perfect too.”
That moment, the two of them sitting alone, felt like he had dozed off in the sun with the promise of a night of summer dreams. If he shut his eyes he would fall asleep and never wake up and be happier for it. But instead, his eyes alighted on the gentle trickling stream. There was a sliver of swirling blue in its clear water. The wind changed, and Callio coughed.
“What’s that smell?” she murmured. A moment later the sickly odour touched his nose too. It was too familiar.
“N-no…” he said weakly. “N-not here…” Yotun jumped down from the log, the trickle of the stream cool between his toes. Callio called out behind him, but he was in a daze. It can’t be… please don’t be… He followed the brook to the crest of the clearing, the blue tide thickening all the while. The boy found what he did not hope to find, breathing heavily in shock. Callio ran up behind him, then gasped, a rapid whimpering sound.
Tied to the roots of the tree was the putrid corpse of a vyrryn. It was so old as to have started rotting, parts of the blackening flesh long since stripped away. He staggered backward. Rolling eyes, slacken tongue, a hole where the neck should be…
“Y-Yotun…” Callio whispered. “I- uh…” He took a nervous step forward.
“Oh, but…” Yotun gasped. “L-look…”
“I don’t want to look!” Callio hissed. “I want to go!”
“B-but the legs! They’ve been cut away!”
“S-someone d-did this…” Callio shuddered, pointing with a claw to the rope. “Yotun… Please, I think we should go!”
“Y-yeah,” he said, tendrils of terror tightening around his heart. “C’mon.” Without thinking, he took her paw in his and turned to go back the way they had come. They stopped.
Something massive was standing across the stream. Its four stocky legs were tipped with sharp claws. Its short-haired, fuzzy brown body was long, its frame too large for its gaunt flesh. But it was the eyes that embristled him at once; intense, golden eyes. Predator! his mind screamed.
“B-behind me!” Yotun hollered. The urge to run was overwhelming, but where to run to? The teenagers scampered backward looking about for a path through the trees, but the forest pressed too tight, the terrain too uneven. If it had killed and caught a vyrryn Yotun had no doubt this creature would run them down if they tried to flee. Instead, he held onto Callio tightly. The predator padded after them in a lethargic, almost casual stride, pacing back and forth across the clearing. Callio squealed as her legs touched the corpse of the vyrryn. It wants the body! Yotun’s panicking mind insisted.
“I-it w-wants the meat!” he hissed. Together, they moved sideways around the clearing. The creature’s long tail swished back and forth as it regarded them. Its broad nose took in the air, a wide purple tongue clearing a tooth. It loped forward, its paws thick and heavy, spreading its weight as it clambered over to the dead thing. It sniffed about it deeply, the teenagers moving back further. But their movement recaptured its attention, and it turned its massive head back to them.
“Wh-what’s it doing?” Callio whimpered.
“I-it’s more interested in us,” he gasped. Every slow step backward they took was mirrored by the predator. What do I do?! Where can we go?! They were rapidly being backed further and further into the treeline. All his nightmares seemed to swirl about him; the feeling of being trapped, hunted, and the feeling of broken bodies and shattered jaws. I have to save her… He squeezed Callio’s paw.
“G-get ready to run,” he gulped.
“Wh-wh-?!” He did not have any time to waste, lest his courage fail. He threw his arms out, baring his flat teeth as wide as he could.
“Find help. Go!” he shouted, stepping fiercely toward the predator. A short moment later he heard her beating a hasty retreat. “Yaaaaaaa!” he yelled, swinging his arms about. “Raaaaaaaaa!” It ignored him, tracking Callio’s passing. He stepped between them. Yelling from the top of his lungs.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaa!”
It stalled for a moment and blinked at him. Then it growled.
His bravery faltered, and he took a half-step backward. That was enough. It jumped forward, slashing at his throat. Yotun cringed away, yelping as its claws left vicious cuts through his forearm. Instinctively he rolled onto his belly, his spines extended into a ball of spikes. He shook in terror as he felt its hot breath on him, a moment later whimpering, snivelling as it battered him again. The creature made a snarling sound, irritated by his spines. It hit him again, hard enough to knock the wind from him, the shock making him unroll. He looked up into the eyes of death.
“H-hey!” he heard a thin voice yell as a rock came sailing into the animal’s flank. It spun about with a hiss. Callio stood there, brazen and afraid.
“Run!” he gasped. The girl turned in terror to flee, but in an instant it was on her. She was pinned, wild-eyed and screaming, on her back, unable to roll over and splay her spines. The sound seemed to fade, replaced by a thundering droning, a belt of pressure so tight around his skull he thought it had burst open. Yotun collapsed as he tried to lift himself, finding his left arm to be shredded, blue flesh peaking between his fur. His body felt leaden, unable to move. Time slowed as the monster bore down on Callio, her frantic, shrieking inaudible. The girl’s silent scream was choked as its great jaws clamped about her throat. The air was pressed from his lungs; nothing seemed to be happening, save that moment. Then there was a rumble, like distant thunder, more felt than heard. The animal recoiled as its side caught fire, dropping Callio limply to the dirt. A man with a rifle strode through the brush, the lever ratcheting again as he fired on the predator. Hissing furiously, the monster bolted for the trees, a round of sizzling plasma reducing an ear to a burned stump. In two bounds it was lost amongst the leaves, white fire chasing after it.
Yotun’s eyes drifted to his friend, her body lay twitching where she had been dropped. His arm flooded with lancing pain he crawled to her, pleading that she was alright. But in reaching her he found there a despair usually reserved for his nightmares.
Blue blood was staining her cream-coloured fur, droplets on the white flowers around her. Her paws curled slowly as she held them against her chest. She wore a strange, perplexed expression like she was trying to solve some particularly stimulating puzzle. Great holes punctured her neck, her head hanging limply to the body. There was a grip on his shoulder as he was firmly pushed away, the big brown man’s paws moving frantically through his pack. He was speaking to him, but Yotun only heard the pounding in his ears. I know him, don’t I? a part of him recalled. The man produced a medical kit, retrieving a bundle of gauze and pressing it to the wounds. It turned blue at once.
Callio was wincing, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to say something, something he could not hear. But he could see. All he could do was see. He wished he had never seen at all.
The big man was shaking him, and Yotun gasped in shock as awareness returned in a wall of sound.
“Yotun!” Braq barked at him, guiding his paw to the bandage. “Keep pressure here!” He did so at once, his stomach spinning. Callio made a muted sobbing sound, as his paw pressed down hard, her blood sticky on his palm. His left arm was afire with agony, but he ignored it; it was nothing compared to what he could see.
“I-it’s o-okay,” he told her. “I-I’ve got you.” Oh no… no, please, no… Braq spun around again, reloading the rifle as quickly as he could. He paced around them in a firm careful stride. “H-help me!” Yotun pleaded weakly, not to anyone in particular. Braq winced.
“I am,” he said, pacing nervously. Yotun sat there dumbly, Callio making weak sounds as he pressed against her open throat. It had all gone wrong.
“Wh-what w-was-!”
“A roht,” Braq murmured, pain etched across his face. “I’m so sorry lad.” There was a deep resonant growl between the trees, making Braq bristle as he re-primed the weapon.
“W-won’t it go away?!”
“No, not when there’s food to be had.” He peered back at them. “Don’t worry, helps on the way.” Yotun gawped at him, a look of terror and blame.
“Y-you said th-there weren’t any m-monsters in the woods!” Yotun gasped.
“I lied,” Braq whispered. A split-second later there was a crash through the bush, Braq raising his weapon swiftly. He fired blindly at his target, and there was a thudding sound. It was silent. The moment stretched out, marked only by Callio’s rasping breath against his palm. Braq stepped forward into the scrub, and swung the gun left and right as he moved in slow cautious steps. He disappeared from sight between the trees.
Suddenly he cried out in fright, falling onto his back into the clearing. The monster had pounced on him, the big man struggling beneath it with the gun in its jaws. Yellow teeth scratched at the metal. Abruptly a shadow exploded out of the bushes nearby, leaping at the predator in long bounding strides. The blur hit the roht across the back, lodging a knife into it as it went, the force of the collision dragging the predator from its prey. Rolling to its feet, the big brown beast hissed at its attacker, batting at it with a massive paw. The other leaped away, its lithe sinuous form more agile than any gojid. Its long snout sat before two dark forward-facing eyes, and its lips were drawn back in a hideous snarl. The two predators circled one another, growling and snapping as their tails hung low. The roht easily outweighed the newcomer two to one, but it was also clearly slower.
Yotun looked down at the girl in his arms. She was not looking at the fight for their lives, instead her soft brown eyes were searching his face as though he held some answer to a special question. Her eyelids started to droop, as though too heavy to bear. No!
“Callio?” he gasped. “C-can… p-please stay awake…” The predators nearby were diving and dancing around one another, the roht trying to rush in and push down the dark reptile. He pressed his palm harder to his friend’s throat, causing her to whine, tears filling her eyes. “Ju-just hold on, w-we’ll g-get you out o-of here!” Braq had rejoined the fray, the rifle discharging superheated bolts at the monster. Callio’s paw rubbed against Yotun’s cheek, brushing away the tears he did not feel.
“Silly boy…” she gargled, that light smirk on her bloody lips.
“I n-need to tell you something…”
“Tell…” she managed weakly but could say no more. Her eyes slid shut, her face went slack, and she died in his arms.
“Wh-?” he mumbled, peaking beneath the bandage. “Callio?” He put his head on hers; he did not know why. “Wake up. W-we’ve got to get home…” he told her. “Please w-wake up.” It’s a dream, a bad dream for my journal. “Wake up!” he all but yelled, shaking her broken body. “No…”
Yotun was vaguely aware that Braq had stopped firing, the rifle landing near him as the roht ripped it from the man’s grasp. Braq dove away as it leapt for him again, the shadow taking the opportunity to slash at its haunches. This drew a pained yelp from it, distracting the monster as it whirled to howl at the other predator. Seemingly emboldened, the dark creature attacked with renewed vigour, feinting one way only to pounce from another. Before him Braq snatched up the rifle, hastily slotting rounds into the chamber as the two monsters fought.
“Watch it girl!” he called out as the roht stood up to throw itself heavily at the black reptile. Girl? some part of Yotun’s grief and fear-stricken brain pondered. Whatever ‘she’ was she heeded his warning, rolling beneath and scrambling away from the beast. The roht was starting to lather from its wounds, panting and snarling fiercely. Sensing this, the shadow closed in, biting and slashing at it before darting away. Then she was too close for a moment too long, and the yellow teeth snapped shut around her tail. With a wrenching toss of its shaggy head, the roht flung the lesser predator across the clearing. With a yelp and a sickening crunch, her middle wrapped around a tree trunk.
“NO!” Braq yelled out as she fell solidly to the ground. She had stopped moving. The roht turned its yellow eyes on the gojids. It charged them, and Yotun sat there like a fiirit on the freeway. Braq tried to fire the rifle, but the mechanism jammed with a hefty clunk. Death then. With a terrific yell, Braq threw himself over them both, his broad spikey back flaring. The roht slashed at him, and both barked out in pain. It threw its head low under his spines, grabbing the ecologist by the ankle and dragging him away from the kids.
“Ah-yah!” Braq kicked savagely with his other foot, the claws jabbing at the predator’s face and freeing himself. For a brief moment, the man managed to wrestle his way on top of the creature, wrapping his muscular arms under its head and elbowing its skull repeatedly. But then the monster threw him from itself and pounced on him, Braq barely getting his paws up in time to hold back his demise. But it was a futile maneuverer, and Yotun could see the fear in his eyes the roht’s strength slowly overpowered him.
It killed her, and that dark thing, Yotun thought absently. Soon it’ll kill me, and everything will be alright. His only regret was that Braq would have to die as well.
There was a hollering yell, and then it was off him, the man sucking in air in agony and relief against the ground.
“Ki-yu…” Braq wheezed, trembling as he tried to force himself up. You see that bright one? a half-remembered voice flashed through Yotun’s mind.
The shadow was straddling the roht in the middle of the clearing, screeching at the top of her lungs as she slashed with her claws at its throat. Blue blood was being flung in all directions, the roht’s legs kicking desperately beneath her as it tried to buck the other predator off itself. Its paws scraped at her flanks, but the darkling batted the blows aside. The great beast tried to bite at the reptile’s throat, but she recoiled, and wrapping her clawed hands around the snout snapped it shut. Ki-yu let out a savage bellowing howl before she dragged the still-kicking predator's muzzle and head into her jaws. Yotun tried to look away, but he found he could not. The roht let out a strange bleating sound as great sharp teeth dug through hide and skull and eye and brain. With a sickening Ca-CRUNCH the predator's head shattered, and it stopped crying out. Stopped kicking. It did not even twitch.
Yotun realised he was screaming when his lungs ran out of air. The predator sat astride the roht with its teeth still lodged in the blue mess that was once a head. It was not looking at him, instead, it seemed to be panting. It wore a distant expression on its face, its dark eyes unfocused.
With his unmauled arm, Yotun reached for the rifle. The movement seemed to awake the creature, and it shook its mouth free of the shattered skull with short jerking motions. He pulled it up, heavy and clumsy in his shaking paw. The creature just watched him, its bloodied claws stretched out over its kill. He was trying to figure out how to shoot the thing when Braq limped over and pulled the rifle forcefully from him. He fell to his knees before them, his paws moving desperately over Callio’s corpse.
“Shit! Oh, no, oh shit shit shit!” he muttered to himself. He smelt of blood and sweat.
“She’s dead.” Yotun told him, as simply as if he had asked for the weather. The big man looked him so close and so deep in the eyes, Yotun could see himself reflected in his pupils. Braq hung his head, his heavy paw gripping Yotun’s shoulder. The boy looked up to see that the voice in the forest had ambled over to them. The woodwaif wheezed as she breathed, a strained expression on her long face as she clutched at her ribs. She dragged her tail along the ground, its middle broken where the roht had bitten it. Blue blood covered her, a trickle of red leaking from one nostril. Her dark scales glistened in the sunlight, her form supple and strong. She’s beautiful, he thought distantly as she towered over him.
“Please,” he whispered, “just kill me.”
---
“Simbelmynë. Ever has it grown the tombs of my forbears. Now it shall cover the grave of my son. Alas that these evil days should be mine. The young perish and the old linger; that I should live to see the last days of my house… No parent should have to bury their child…”
– Théoden, King of Rohan. The Two Towers.
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Memory transcription subject: Yotun, son of Laenar and Arrut.
Date [standardised human time]: May 5th, 2120
(16 years, 4 months before the invasion of the gojid Cradle).
Yotun runs in the night.
He is running from the forest, from the chittering, clacking dead things that skitter across his trail. A phantom moon hangs above, a dark star shining shadows. It’s non-light leaves pools of moonlight in the gloom. The only true light, orange and warm, ebbs distantly from his home, barely visible downhill between the trees. He just needs to reach it…
His pursuers make themselves known with shrill shrieks; young brynn, flesh sloughing from their blackening bones. Many are missing large chunks of flesh, braying exaltedly as their viscera drag across the ground. The corpses press close, clipping at his heels, hooves clattering together as they stagger after him. They herd around him, giggling and squealing, trying to change his course.
“It’s not safe,” one whispers.
“Yessssss,” the others chorus.
“P-please!” he begs them. “Leave me alone!”
“Not safe!” They chant, their voices screeching like teeth on empty plates. “Not safe not safe not safe not safe!” They fill his sight as his feet pound the ground, their slacken faces and rolling tongues a grotesque portrait. Then he is running through the vineyards and up the cinderblock steps in three dream strides, the orange glow as bright and total as the dawn. He bursts through the back door. His parents are standing at the dining table, conferring in whispers as they peer beneath a massive sheet across it. They look up sharply at his hasty entrance.
“Oh,” his mother beams, lowering the cloth. “There you are.”
“Someone must be hungry!” his father laughs, the man smiling in a way he never seems to. Honestly. He is home, Yotun realises as his heart settles. He must be safe.
“C’mon dearest,” his mother says, “You’re just in time for dinner.”
He sits in his chair, the wood rough like bark.
“What’re we having?” he asks, looking down at the covered meal.
“Your favourite!” she squeals, pulling the cloth back. The table is covered with a fine sample of their vineyards and crops. Brightly coloured fruit, ripe and tender, paired with well roasted vegetables and seasoned tubers. Surely no other farmhands on the Cradle eats so well! But at the centre of the table sits the young brynn, blinking at them with dim animal eyes, its legs tucked tight beneath it. His mother moves to his left, and hands him a knife. Yotun looks uncertainly at his father, but the man just rubs his paws together, a big grin on his face.
“Go on, tuck in!” his mother says. Yotun gawps at her.
“N-no… I don’t want to…”
“You’ll eat it,” his father says sternly. “We put a lot of work into this.”
“No, I… p-please…” Something was not right.
“You won’t get your vegetables till you’ve had your brynn!” his mother scolds him. He sits there, open mouthed. Grumbling, Arrut snatches the knife from him.
“Here,” he says, “I’ll get you started.” In a swift, impossibly strong stroke, he cuts through the animal’s neck, decapitating it as if it were a stuffed toy. Blood splatters across table, soaking into the tablecloth; the head lands like a grim delicacy in the salad bowl. Yotun screams, covering his eyes. He slides to the floor, the tree giving up all pretence of being a chair. Without looking he knows he’s back in the forest, the smell of sap strong in his nose. A presence, felt but unseen, leans close.
“Are you scared?” she whispers, the words a breath on his throat. Yotun opens his mouth to speak but only a shrill wheezing comes out.
A rumbling sound woke Yotun with a start. He sat at the bus stop, fields of anuana stretching away on the other side of the road like a rolling avalanche. Down the road, the bus was approaching. Pulling his journal from his pack, he quickly took some notes on his dream before they faded. He had not been sure why Rylett was getting him to do so at first, all it did was reminded him of his dread, the terrible depth of his nightly terrors. But the more he did so, the more he saw in them. For one the smell might be more visceral, in another the colours more vivid. Some he would go most of the night without recalling any detail, save one sour note. Some days, some blessed morns, he woke not remembering a thing. A shadowy moon cloaked in light…
The transport shuddered to a stop, the blue paint chipping above the wheels. This far from the town of Yuret, the autonomous vehicle only had one occupant. The doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, Callio’s small pack bouncing as she skipped down the steps. The girl smiled as she saw him.
“Did you fall asleep?” she asked at once, watching him yawn and stretch. The bus started up again, emitting a low hum as it continued on its route.
“No…” he said, pawing an eye.
“Liar,” she said, sitting on the bench beside him. That woke him up. “So,” she said, swinging her legs. “You snuck out after all.”
“Couldn’t let you get lost on your own, hm?” he grinned, shaking his head. “If our parents knew…”
“Yotun,” she laughed, rolling her eyes as she jumped up happily. “That’s what the sneaking is for!” Callio put her paws on her hips.
“Ready?” she giggled. Yotun could not supress his grin as he stood.
“C’mon,” he chuckled, “it’s a long walk!”
The main road was not far from his family’s property, connecting Bendara on the western coast and Yuret to the southeast. Calling it the ‘main road’ was also something of a misnomer, as most traffic between the two settlements was airborne. Few, if any, would see the two teenagers wandering off into the woods.
The tour of the Brackwood had been more fun than he had expected, but Callio had become obsessed. Their time between classes was mostly spent talking about and comparing notes and drawings on what they had found on their respective borders of the territory. Callio had even brought in a dylia, a long, thin, green insectoid in a jar to show him. Rylett had not been impressed when she saw, even if she told them to keep it to themselves.
But that had not stopped them, and Callio still wanted to see more. In particular, she wanted to see the kuru again, those strange ghostly creatures.
“C’mon,” she had whined. “It’d take me so long to walk out there from my house. Couldn’t we go together? Your house is right there.” And he could not exactly say no to her, could he? She was his only real friend, and was it so bad if he wanted to spend some time with her? Shit. She’s sure plucked my quills enough to convince me of this, he admitted.
Winter was starting to wane at last, spring urging the forest to wake. This was a good time for his family, the vineyards starting to cultivate again. More to grow meant more work for his parents, which suited Yotun’s school break fine. It also meant that the dominar had shot up, and they had to cut through the roiling fields of sun-gold stems. A straight line turned into a meander, turned into a chase, the pair giggling like all children should, running beneath an open sky. Breathless, they exited the field on the forest side to find their path writ into the crop, as though a brynn had stampeded through. Not wanting to dawdle lest neighbour Maggit arrive, they set off into the Brackwood, roguish smiles on their faces.
Ahead, the snow had retreated back into icy caps on the mountains. All that meltwater would be turning the seas to a broil; even here in the foothills, where it was clear and sunny, there was still a wetness to the soil. The trees had started to sense springs coy fingers, drawing out the first hints of green and blue stems from renewed branches. Even in dead things, nature finds new life, Yotun reflected.
The pair made good time; Callio’s enthusiasm dragged him most of the way. They stopped to rest on his overhang before midday, where he had come to draw in solitude but had found then lost a friend. He had not come back since, but it was as he had left it all those months ago. The outstretch of rock with its log for a bench, a crowd of its living fellows standing cautiously nearby as if goading one of their number to lift its roots and plummet from on high. The wind whistled but carried no voice.
“Look,” Yotun said breathily, pointing downhill to the slab of grey amongst its rows of vines. “You can see my house from here.” He strained his eyes along the peaks to the southeast, then down into the plains. “And there’s Yuret.” he added, noting the peaks of silver towers spread between circular pastures of green. Callio was still admiring the property, watching the regular mechanical motions of the little drones spraying pesticides. From this distance they looked like insects themselves.
“Your dad’s still growing his trees?” she asked. Yotun nodded, gesturing to a seemingly barren patch at the forest's edge below them. His father had taken to the idea with a strange zeal.
“Down there.” He laughed. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“I think it’s nice,” Callio said with a smirk. “Don’t you?”
“I guess.” Yotun mumbled. “I just don’t see it lasting. He only cares about the vineyards, anything that doesn’t add to that…” He shrugged. “What about your dad? Isn’t he gonna be upset that you’ve run off out here?” She spun away from him, wandering up to the trees.
“He worries too much. I told him I was going into town.” With one last look down at his home, he moseyed after her. So brazen, he noted, the thought tickling him. Callio glanced at him as he joined her, her brown doe eyes narrowing with a smirk on her lips.
“What?” she asked coyly, tossing her head and folding her arms. “Do you disapprove?”
“Since when do you need my approval?” he laughed. “It’s just… out of character.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning forward with a scandalised expression. “And what exactly is my ‘character’?” Yotun chuckled.
“Little light in the tunnel, not one to work against the grain.” He smiled impishly. “What would they say of Miss Perfect stomping off into the woods with the likes of me?” Her smirk was fixed even when she rolled her eyes.
“Perfect, eh? Well would Miss Perfect do this?” she hooted, giving him a sharp shove. He fell solidly onto his rump, the damp forest floor wetting his fur. Callio’s snorting snigger at his shocked expression warmed him against the chill.
“Oh, that’s it!” he giggled, picking up a patch of sodden muck and flinging it at her with a hefty splat! She gasped, the girl gaping down at the brown mud coating her soft cream-coloured fur. For a moment, he thought he had ruined everything. Then her gasp became a giggle, became a cackle. He started laughing too, falling onto his back.
“Aha… You idiot!” she wheezed as she trotted over to him.
“Ah… serves you right,” he tittered wiping the dirt from himself, and taking her offered paw. It felt firm and sure in his own. Callio looked down at her mucky fur again.
“Papa’s gonna kill me,” she chuckled trying to work it out with her claws.
“Sorry,” Yotun winced. Such a silly thing to do. He ran a claw through a rough patch, gently teasing the dirt out. His paw drifted up the blot, and he felt Callio’s breath hitch as his paw moved across her chest. He froze, realising what he had absently done. Their eyes met, and he wondered if his own exposed his feelings so clearly.
She stepped away, abashedly, working up to the treeline again. Yotun’s brain was doing somersaults, whilst simultaneously thinking about soap for some reason.
“Woah,” Callio said looking up at the hollow tree, “that’s neat”. She stuck her head inside. “Ha! It’s super echoey.” Her voice boomed. “Listen to that! Helloooo! Hellllooooo!” There was a moment's silence. “Hey, come look at this…”
“What?” he murmured, bending down into the crevice beside her. She pointed to deep gouges on the dead interior.
“Claw marks,” she mumbled, following the trail up. “Something climbed up here.” Or someone… he ruminated, running his thumb across a deep scratch. She was always one step ahead, ever out of reach. “You alright?” Callio asked.
“Yeah, you just… reminded me of someone.”
“Someone good, I hope.”
They were very close, sitting in that hollow. He nodded uphill. “C’mon.”
“More climbing?!” she huffed. “I’m so tired!”
“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “I promise.”
During late spring and summer, the foliage grew too dense to pass through, blocking passage into the rest of the estate. But in the earliest weeks of spring the cut path into the Brackwood was clear enough to gain egress. He had only come out this far once or twice since he had first found that hidden trail, all those years ago.
The path, which started near his family’s vineyards, stretched up into a pass between two low mountains. Dormant trees, too high and too cold for spring, and any awlets nesting there were all who noted their passing. The higher they climbed, the dearer the drop to each side. Even the trees seemed to fall away as they walked, loose soil giving way to steep summits of stone. They were panting hard as they reached the apex, but a wall of white sound was all they could hear. Yotun wore a grin as they crested the rise.
Before them stretched the long descent into the west. Curving to the north, in a misty surge was the source of the white noise. The waterfall, pale and bright, flowed from a narrow opening in the solid granite; at least, it seemed narrow from this distance. In actuality the bus Callio had taken could probably be propelled out of that chute. It must have been carved out from tens of millions of years of thaw, tens of millions of springs. The water fell in a roar —crying liberation from the cold— into a massive lake at its foot, a tributary of the larger rivers in the forest. Though they could not see it, Yotun knew the river would be strong now, made all the harsher by Ki-yu’s rage. Down there, between the greening trees, the water was white and frothing with the last of winter’s bite.
“Wow,” Callio gasped, her fatigue vanishing. Her brown eyes followed the sharp folds of the mountains westward, the hidden slopes and valleys too few knew. “Okay… that was worth it.”
“Told you so,” he tittered breathily. “See that?” he told her, pointing to the most western and modest peak. “That’s where Turin found me when I wandered out here.” It was smaller than he had thought, more of a large hill than the mountain he supposed. He recalled surprisingly little from his march across the forest. His strongest memory was that he had to keep moving, and never go home.
“You did all that?” she glanced down into the valley. Yotun flexed his jaw, watching how the blue of the sky met with the silver mountains.
“Yeah, well… I couldn’t sleep.” Some little bellboys dove from a high point beside the waterfall, dancing through the mist to wash. Callio took his paw beside him.
“Thank you, Yotun.”
“It’s okay,” he said, looking up to gauge the sun’s passage. “We should probably head back soon.”
“Oh, couldn’t we go a little further?” she asked.
“I don’t know much more beyond this point,” he shrugged. She smiled sunnily at him.
“Pleaaase…” she whined.
“Well,” he sighed, as though he had not thought this far ahead. “There is one more thing. It’s not far.”
They followed the trail further along the ridge, the wind sweeping up to play with their fur. Eventually, a forest path cut off from the main trail, threading between the trees. The meagre offering of allfurs tried to form a thin canopy, their bristling green cones instead littering the forest floor. Brush and bushes also grew dense here, meaning they could see the sky far better than their feet. Still, the path was easier than he had expected and had clearly seen some recent use.
Callio did not seem to mind the detour, nor the difficult terrain. I could be leading her anywhere, and still, she follows me. She trusts me, he realised. It should not have come as a surprise, but something about that fact was a minor revelation.
Just when he was worried he had led them astray, Yotun stepped out of the treeline and into the sheltered clearing. A fresh crop of pale white blossoms with golden-yellow hearts had come up, a living echo of snow’s thaw. Beneath their green stems the ground was soft and rolling, warmed ever so gently by the sun’s rays. A log had fallen through the dell and across the thin trickling stream that cut through the idyllic little spot. Tiny insects flittered about on soft wings, dancing with and chasing each other between the petals. It was beautiful.
Callio almost pushed past him, stopping in her tracks. She spent a few seconds processing the image before her, then peered at him like he had just produced a hovercraft out of thin air. She laughed, covering her mouth with a paw, and stepped forward into the clearing. The bugs flew up at her passing, buzzing about her as she stepped through the petals.
“They’re so pretty!” she remarked, bending down to touch a crèche of white flowers growing in a mound.
“Evermind,” he told her. “Mother grows some by the window.”
“Oh!” she gasped. “Like the poem?”
“Poem?” He sat against the log.
“You know the one,” she laughed, tilting her head.
“Leaf-maker, night-blind,
Candle in a jar.
For but a taste of evermind,
I wander, lone, afar.”
With a sheepish smile, he bent down and plucked up a flower.
“Here,” he said, handing her the stem. “Now you won’t have to wander anywhere.” His own words sent something wriggling in his stomach, afraid of what he was saying.
“Silly boy,” Callio laughed but accepted the gift. She sat in the sun beside him.
“S-sorry,” he said clumsily. “That was really weird. Everyone thinks I’m weird.”
“You are weird, you silly boy!” she said sweetly. “It’s what I like about you.” Yotun smiled bashfully, words forgotten to the soaring feeling in his chest.
“I, uh… I do approve… by the way.” he said in hushed tones. Her eyes making his heart thunder. “O-of this… of you…” Callio twiddled the flower between her digits, glancing from its petals to him and back again. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“F-for what it’s worth,” she breathed, “I think you’re perfect too.”
That moment, the two of them sitting alone, felt like he had dozed off in the sun with the promise of a night of summer dreams. If he shut his eyes he would fall asleep and never wake up and be happier for it. But instead, his eyes alighted on the gentle trickling stream. There was a sliver of swirling blue in its clear water. The wind changed, and Callio coughed.
“What’s that smell?” she murmured. A moment later the sickly odour touched his nose too. It was too familiar.
“N-no…” he said weakly. “N-not here…” Yotun jumped down from the log, the trickle of the stream cool between his toes. Callio called out behind him, but he was in a daze. It can’t be… please don’t be… He followed the brook to the crest of the clearing, the blue tide thickening all the while. The boy found what he did not hope to find, breathing heavily in shock. Callio ran up behind him, then gasped, a rapid whimpering sound.
Tied to the roots of the tree was the putrid corpse of a vyrryn. It was so old as to have started rotting, parts of the blackening flesh long since stripped away. He staggered backward. Rolling eyes, slacken tongue, a hole where the neck should be…
“Y-Yotun…” Callio whispered. “I- uh…” He took a nervous step forward.
“Oh, but…” Yotun gasped. “L-look…”
“I don’t want to look!” Callio hissed. “I want to go!”
“B-but the legs! They’ve been cut away!”
“S-someone d-did this…” Callio shuddered, pointing with a claw to the rope. “Yotun… Please, I think we should go!”
“Y-yeah,” he said, tendrils of terror tightening around his heart. “C’mon.” Without thinking, he took her paw in his and turned to go back the way they had come. They stopped.
Something massive was standing across the stream. Its four stocky legs were tipped with sharp claws. Its short-haired, fuzzy brown body was long, its frame too large for its gaunt flesh. But it was the eyes that embristled him at once; intense, golden eyes. Predator! his mind screamed.
“B-behind me!” Yotun hollered. The urge to run was overwhelming, but where to run to? The teenagers scampered backward looking about for a path through the trees, but the forest pressed too tight, the terrain too uneven. If it had killed and caught a vyrryn Yotun had no doubt this creature would run them down if they tried to flee. Instead, he held onto Callio tightly. The predator padded after them in a lethargic, almost casual stride, pacing back and forth across the clearing. Callio squealed as her legs touched the corpse of the vyrryn. It wants the body! Yotun’s panicking mind insisted.
“I-it w-wants the meat!” he hissed. Together, they moved sideways around the clearing. The creature’s long tail swished back and forth as it regarded them. Its broad nose took in the air, a wide purple tongue clearing a tooth. It loped forward, its paws thick and heavy, spreading its weight as it clambered over to the dead thing. It sniffed about it deeply, the teenagers moving back further. But their movement recaptured its attention, and it turned its massive head back to them.
“Wh-what’s it doing?” Callio whimpered.
“I-it’s more interested in us,” he gasped. Every slow step backward they took was mirrored by the predator. What do I do?! Where can we go?! They were rapidly being backed further and further into the treeline. All his nightmares seemed to swirl about him; the feeling of being trapped, hunted, and the feeling of broken bodies and shattered jaws. I have to save her… He squeezed Callio’s paw.
“G-get ready to run,” he gulped.
“Wh-wh-?!” He did not have any time to waste, lest his courage fail. He threw his arms out, baring his flat teeth as wide as he could.
“Find help. Go!” he shouted, stepping fiercely toward the predator. A short moment later he heard her beating a hasty retreat. “Yaaaaaaa!” he yelled, swinging his arms about. “Raaaaaaaaa!” It ignored him, tracking Callio’s passing. He stepped between them. Yelling from the top of his lungs.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaa!”
It stalled for a moment and blinked at him. Then it growled.
His bravery faltered, and he took a half-step backward. That was enough. It jumped forward, slashing at his throat. Yotun cringed away, yelping as its claws left vicious cuts through his forearm. Instinctively he rolled onto his belly, his spines extended into a ball of spikes. He shook in terror as he felt its hot breath on him, a moment later whimpering, snivelling as it battered him again. The creature made a snarling sound, irritated by his spines. It hit him again, hard enough to knock the wind from him, the shock making him unroll. He looked up into the eyes of death.
“H-hey!” he heard a thin voice yell as a rock came sailing into the animal’s flank. It spun about with a hiss. Callio stood there, brazen and afraid.
“Run!” he gasped. The girl turned in terror to flee, but in an instant it was on her. She was pinned, wild-eyed and screaming, on her back, unable to roll over and splay her spines. The sound seemed to fade, replaced by a thundering droning, a belt of pressure so tight around his skull he thought it had burst open. Yotun collapsed as he tried to lift himself, finding his left arm to be shredded, blue flesh peaking between his fur. His body felt leaden, unable to move. Time slowed as the monster bore down on Callio, her frantic, shrieking inaudible. The girl’s silent scream was choked as its great jaws clamped about her throat. The air was pressed from his lungs; nothing seemed to be happening, save that moment. Then there was a rumble, like distant thunder, more felt than heard. The animal recoiled as its side caught fire, dropping Callio limply to the dirt. A man with a rifle strode through the brush, the lever ratcheting again as he fired on the predator. Hissing furiously, the monster bolted for the trees, a round of sizzling plasma reducing an ear to a burned stump. In two bounds it was lost amongst the leaves, white fire chasing after it.
Yotun’s eyes drifted to his friend, her body lay twitching where she had been dropped. His arm flooded with lancing pain he crawled to her, pleading that she was alright. But in reaching her he found there a despair usually reserved for his nightmares.
Blue blood was staining her cream-coloured fur, droplets on the white flowers around her. Her paws curled slowly as she held them against her chest. She wore a strange, perplexed expression like she was trying to solve some particularly stimulating puzzle. Great holes punctured her neck, her head hanging limply to the body. There was a grip on his shoulder as he was firmly pushed away, the big brown man’s paws moving frantically through his pack. He was speaking to him, but Yotun only heard the pounding in his ears. I know him, don’t I? a part of him recalled. The man produced a medical kit, retrieving a bundle of gauze and pressing it to the wounds. It turned blue at once.
Callio was wincing, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to say something, something he could not hear. But he could see. All he could do was see. He wished he had never seen at all.
The big man was shaking him, and Yotun gasped in shock as awareness returned in a wall of sound.
“Yotun!” Braq barked at him, guiding his paw to the bandage. “Keep pressure here!” He did so at once, his stomach spinning. Callio made a muted sobbing sound, as his paw pressed down hard, her blood sticky on his palm. His left arm was afire with agony, but he ignored it; it was nothing compared to what he could see.
“I-it’s o-okay,” he told her. “I-I’ve got you.” Oh no… no, please, no… Braq spun around again, reloading the rifle as quickly as he could. He paced around them in a firm careful stride. “H-help me!” Yotun pleaded weakly, not to anyone in particular. Braq winced.
“I am,” he said, pacing nervously. Yotun sat there dumbly, Callio making weak sounds as he pressed against her open throat. It had all gone wrong.
“Wh-what w-was-!”
“A roht,” Braq murmured, pain etched across his face. “I’m so sorry lad.” There was a deep resonant growl between the trees, making Braq bristle as he re-primed the weapon.
“W-won’t it go away?!”
“No, not when there’s food to be had.” He peered back at them. “Don’t worry, helps on the way.” Yotun gawped at him, a look of terror and blame.
“Y-you said th-there weren’t any m-monsters in the woods!” Yotun gasped.
“I lied,” Braq whispered. A split-second later there was a crash through the bush, Braq raising his weapon swiftly. He fired blindly at his target, and there was a thudding sound. It was silent. The moment stretched out, marked only by Callio’s rasping breath against his palm. Braq stepped forward into the scrub, and swung the gun left and right as he moved in slow cautious steps. He disappeared from sight between the trees.
Suddenly he cried out in fright, falling onto his back into the clearing. The monster had pounced on him, the big man struggling beneath it with the gun in its jaws. Yellow teeth scratched at the metal. Abruptly a shadow exploded out of the bushes nearby, leaping at the predator in long bounding strides. The blur hit the roht across the back, lodging a knife into it as it went, the force of the collision dragging the predator from its prey. Rolling to its feet, the big brown beast hissed at its attacker, batting at it with a massive paw. The other leaped away, its lithe sinuous form more agile than any gojid. Its long snout sat before two dark forward-facing eyes, and its lips were drawn back in a hideous snarl. The two predators circled one another, growling and snapping as their tails hung low. The roht easily outweighed the newcomer two to one, but it was also clearly slower.
Yotun looked down at the girl in his arms. She was not looking at the fight for their lives, instead her soft brown eyes were searching his face as though he held some answer to a special question. Her eyelids started to droop, as though too heavy to bear. No!
“Callio?” he gasped. “C-can… p-please stay awake…” The predators nearby were diving and dancing around one another, the roht trying to rush in and push down the dark reptile. He pressed his palm harder to his friend’s throat, causing her to whine, tears filling her eyes. “Ju-just hold on, w-we’ll g-get you out o-of here!” Braq had rejoined the fray, the rifle discharging superheated bolts at the monster. Callio’s paw rubbed against Yotun’s cheek, brushing away the tears he did not feel.
“Silly boy…” she gargled, that light smirk on her bloody lips.
“I n-need to tell you something…”
“Tell…” she managed weakly but could say no more. Her eyes slid shut, her face went slack, and she died in his arms.
“Wh-?” he mumbled, peaking beneath the bandage. “Callio?” He put his head on hers; he did not know why. “Wake up. W-we’ve got to get home…” he told her. “Please w-wake up.” It’s a dream, a bad dream for my journal. “Wake up!” he all but yelled, shaking her broken body. “No…”
Yotun was vaguely aware that Braq had stopped firing, the rifle landing near him as the roht ripped it from the man’s grasp. Braq dove away as it leapt for him again, the shadow taking the opportunity to slash at its haunches. This drew a pained yelp from it, distracting the monster as it whirled to howl at the other predator. Seemingly emboldened, the dark creature attacked with renewed vigour, feinting one way only to pounce from another. Before him Braq snatched up the rifle, hastily slotting rounds into the chamber as the two monsters fought.
“Watch it girl!” he called out as the roht stood up to throw itself heavily at the black reptile. Girl? some part of Yotun’s grief and fear-stricken brain pondered. Whatever ‘she’ was she heeded his warning, rolling beneath and scrambling away from the beast. The roht was starting to lather from its wounds, panting and snarling fiercely. Sensing this, the shadow closed in, biting and slashing at it before darting away. Then she was too close for a moment too long, and the yellow teeth snapped shut around her tail. With a wrenching toss of its shaggy head, the roht flung the lesser predator across the clearing. With a yelp and a sickening crunch, her middle wrapped around a tree trunk.
“NO!” Braq yelled out as she fell solidly to the ground. She had stopped moving. The roht turned its yellow eyes on the gojids. It charged them, and Yotun sat there like a fiirit on the freeway. Braq tried to fire the rifle, but the mechanism jammed with a hefty clunk. Death then. With a terrific yell, Braq threw himself over them both, his broad spikey back flaring. The roht slashed at him, and both barked out in pain. It threw its head low under his spines, grabbing the ecologist by the ankle and dragging him away from the kids.
“Ah-yah!” Braq kicked savagely with his other foot, the claws jabbing at the predator’s face and freeing himself. For a brief moment, the man managed to wrestle his way on top of the creature, wrapping his muscular arms under its head and elbowing its skull repeatedly. But then the monster threw him from itself and pounced on him, Braq barely getting his paws up in time to hold back his demise. But it was a futile maneuverer, and Yotun could see the fear in his eyes the roht’s strength slowly overpowered him.
It killed her, and that dark thing, Yotun thought absently. Soon it’ll kill me, and everything will be alright. His only regret was that Braq would have to die as well.
There was a hollering yell, and then it was off him, the man sucking in air in agony and relief against the ground.
“Ki-yu…” Braq wheezed, trembling as he tried to force himself up. You see that bright one? a half-remembered voice flashed through Yotun’s mind.
The shadow was straddling the roht in the middle of the clearing, screeching at the top of her lungs as she slashed with her claws at its throat. Blue blood was being flung in all directions, the roht’s legs kicking desperately beneath her as it tried to buck the other predator off itself. Its paws scraped at her flanks, but the darkling batted the blows aside. The great beast tried to bite at the reptile’s throat, but she recoiled, and wrapping her clawed hands around the snout snapped it shut. Ki-yu let out a savage bellowing howl before she dragged the still-kicking predator's muzzle and head into her jaws. Yotun tried to look away, but he found he could not. The roht let out a strange bleating sound as great sharp teeth dug through hide and skull and eye and brain. With a sickening Ca-CRUNCH the predator's head shattered, and it stopped crying out. Stopped kicking. It did not even twitch.
Yotun realised he was screaming when his lungs ran out of air. The predator sat astride the roht with its teeth still lodged in the blue mess that was once a head. It was not looking at him, instead, it seemed to be panting. It wore a distant expression on its face, its dark eyes unfocused.
With his unmauled arm, Yotun reached for the rifle. The movement seemed to awake the creature, and it shook its mouth free of the shattered skull with short jerking motions. He pulled it up, heavy and clumsy in his shaking paw. The creature just watched him, its bloodied claws stretched out over its kill. He was trying to figure out how to shoot the thing when Braq limped over and pulled the rifle forcefully from him. He fell to his knees before them, his paws moving desperately over Callio’s corpse.
“Shit! Oh, no, oh shit shit shit!” he muttered to himself. He smelt of blood and sweat.
“She’s dead.” Yotun told him, as simply as if he had asked for the weather. The big man looked him so close and so deep in the eyes, Yotun could see himself reflected in his pupils. Braq hung his head, his heavy paw gripping Yotun’s shoulder. The boy looked up to see that the voice in the forest had ambled over to them. The woodwaif wheezed as she breathed, a strained expression on her long face as she clutched at her ribs. She dragged her tail along the ground, its middle broken where the roht had bitten it. Blue blood covered her, a trickle of red leaking from one nostril. Her dark scales glistened in the sunlight, her form supple and strong. She’s beautiful, he thought distantly as she towered over him.
“Please,” he whispered, “just kill me.”
---
“Simbelmynë. Ever has it grown the tombs of my forbears. Now it shall cover the grave of my son. Alas that these evil days should be mine. The young perish and the old linger; that I should live to see the last days of my house… No parent should have to bury their child…”
– Théoden, King of Rohan. The Two Towers.
[Cover]
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2023.03.23 03:04 Bogey4hoo 'Surviving The Win' - Chapter 003A.
'Surviving The Win'.
...
Chapter 003.
...
'The Never-Land Pipe of Un-Earth'.
Peter Pan had a Pipe. It was a Musical Pipe. Many think that he never used a Tobacco Pipe, but those who pay close attention, know that he used one of those, as well.
What can we say? He's an immortal minor. Morals debatable?
Anyhow, Tiger Lily is one such character, who evidentially (in a Story, such as Barrie's), would have created this premise. For a Tobacco Pipe to exist in the World of the famous Pan, Never-Never Land, that is.
But why mention Never-Land, specifically when our focus is Tobacco?
The principal of how a good Dreaming Herb Pipe, "Un-Earths," within it, the Vision is, because it is, "Never-Landian."
How it bears distinction, though, is in how, when Tobacco Dreaming, it is not about the discovery of any Chartable Territory, so much as it is, the discovery of things of the Spirit.
That is as if to say, though as it were, in either the Supernal or the Infernal Realms of Existence... Communicating through a Lantern into the Mundane.
What about Peter? Oh, well he probably has other issues like finding his shadow, after Wendy fetched it in through the window. If she can sew it, she must be a Crafter. Look for a Book!
I joke.
But on a thoughtful note, with Tinkerbell... Really, "Tin-Kerb-Elle (though most believe the origin is, "Trinqueballer")," there is a Guardian Spirit over Orphans, who watches for tin carriages left at kerbs.
Keep your children off the street.
This example, was given an uplifting note, with the "Tinkerbelle Lilac," which also represents first love, or, "sacred vows (i.e. The, "Kiss," of Guardians, "Peter and Wendy")."
That said, a real, "Never-Land," Tobacco Pipe, would be a gift of Faerie to Earth.
That is, once you ignore the, “Never-Never”/”Procrastination,” it requires to use one.
Of important reckon, is that it bore Elves. Well, depending on how you read into the nature of an Elf. Many professional researchers into the topic, have it that they're Disease Spirits.
Firstly, "Moira," is, "A Fate (Female Personification)," Moirai or Moirae, are plural.
Strangely enough, "Mor," is what one calls a, "Blackberry," or, "Mulberry."
"Blackberries," play a crucial role in the (Cyclical), "Transliterational Computation-Feed," of the "Tobacco Medicine Terminology-Loop."
Altering the Word, "Mor," to it's similar equivalency of spelling, "Mór," when in Irish, allows it to be easily transcribed into the alternative Irish, "Már," and afterward, the Portuguese, "Mar," from Kabuverdianu.
The Derived Finnish Term, "Marat," from the Hungarian hold on the earlier word, "Mar (for, “Bite")," is the term for, "Nightmare," from the whence, Germanic, "Alps," or, "Elves," were given their substantiation..."
A while later, Andrei was looking at his ring, seated inside his Uncle and Aunt's House in Finsford, on a couch in their living room. Two big fish circled and flopped lazily around the indoor aquarium.
Are you sure they’re healthy? asked Andrei.
I know, aren’t they absolutely splendid? Vesta crowed. Look, look, look! she began. She then ran into another room, and came back with a necklace of White Horse Eye shells.
Um?
They’re just like them! Well, One. See, The Butterfly Koi Fish on that End of the Tank.
Well yeah, and I guess, but don’t you think that would be somewhat expected?
Nevermind said Vesta, then what would you like to do? Harold’s out at the Grocers, she said, and he said he’d be back by Three. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you since you were about that age… … Anyhow, there were three Fish here, but as you can tell, there are only two here now. She turned to the side on her Ivory and Salmon Loveseat, looking out the Window. Humph! I just don’t have the slightest idea of where the other one went.
Andrei, looked stupidly at the remaining two. It didn’t impact their stamina in the slightest.
Andrei found the back lawn shoveled. There was a slight coolish wind outside, the sun beat moderately balmy, and the snow had melted somewhat, it now had an icy crust to it.
I think I’ll go sit outside, fashioned Andrei to his fitting in distemperate.
Okay, and fine, fustered Vesta, pulling a Woman’s Magazine out from a teetering tower.
...
Andrei stretched out his right arm, and yawned. He was holding a Book with his left hand, while sitting in an Armed, Tawn-iZee Recline, Wooden Dock Chair.
Hmm...
He had watched their TV. It had felt like the first time in ages that he had done thus, when in fact the last time had simply been an escapade leading to Ghibli and then none.
Harold and Vesta's one-time catch of a TV Microwave, hung above their Stove as a Range Hood.
It was a Smart Microwave, with a TV on the Door, and had Channels to watch while Cooking. The family prepared fish by it. Andrei, however, had watched, ‘Flipper’.
This Microwave did literally ALL. It even Played Music and had an Inventory of Recipes for Upload. It would tell you your Food's Temperature, while hanging above the Cooking on the Stovetop. It did so, by a High-Tech analysis, and could tell Ingredients, it was, ‘General Electric’.
He had been reading something, which said, "... The Devil's in the Details...," when it suddenly occurred to him that there were many details on the screen and the figures on it were in the same Box as his Food.
"... Oni...," Andrei read in the Next Chapter, "... are an Asian variety of Cannibal Demon, and in no way the, "Uncanny Ba'alisters," they appear..."
Wait, thought Andrei. Those were the Japanese Vampires from in the, ‘Vampire Book’.
"... There is a difference...," said Eldritch Spellbound, in, ‘The Book Of Right’, "... between worshipping God, and worshipping Demons of Ba'al…
… There is (yet again), a difference between saving life, and sacrificing life. And further to the point I would make here…,” he announced, “… There is a difference in living a good life. That is, not living perverted! That goes also, for living with good in one’s testimony, for it is intended of the testimony one makes in life, that it is made accountance for, by Scriptural Referral, Confession, and Prayer… to God or God’s Fellowship. Reason being, that they are one’s company in Heaven…
… Onis are not merely a perverted or twisted reflection on what people do to life. Life ever had an intended course. It wasn't for the belly, hereafter..."
Well, thought Andrei, I see some similarity in what he's saying here, to what he mentioned before, about a man named Carlos Castaneda. What if some God only grows you to eat you?
Then, he realized that was a mortive entitlement, of fickle generations, being too punitive to give their God allowance any Higher Spectrum, or will in it, for themselves or the future generations.
Unless that meant their God was truly undiscovered or they had never had one.
"... It seems, though, that any realm of ambivalence has been given over solely to sordid sanctimony, and ordeals of no value of true sacred meaning or vestige..."
I think what he's saying, thought Andrei, is that while some people only evolve, insofar, as reckoning with a, "Profundi-Tie," we still have a God in a Heaven Who Uplifts Burden, Entitles Us To Sacred Respect, and Delivers Mortality, Out Of It's Punitative Reckon-Checking, by His Awareness, Without Indecent Indoctrinations Into Ignorance, Or Any Extinguishing Of Our Living Flame... The God, Who Entitles Us, To Know How We Are the Living Immortals, Anywhere That We Are, and, Of Proofs of Heaven, Not Only Earth Circumstances that Jettison Us By Retrograding, and the Aftermath.
“… Though…,” recaptured Spellbound, “… Why for, the Asian Dharm?…”, and, “… Who did we, in Who need a Karm?…”, was, “… Toward the Ascendancy of Buddha. For, it was such that, the others, of Line, would be left only to be Buddhists OF the Bodhisattva’s Mission, or not even that! One Buddha had, already, indeed been…”
“… The next premise, then…”, Andrei read, “… Was, over the Taste of Auras, to Ascendants…”, This taste, known in Japan as the, “… Nifofi…”
“… Which, in how the Buddha knew he would Not Partake Of It, Nor Recoil From Any, had the Dharm created. For All Asia, would have Fallen Forward, were it not for The Dharm’s Tutelage, by The Buddha (To Whom Went Their Love, and To Whom They Were Most Indebted), Meaning That, Their Sampling or Rein-tilling Auras, must aim to Rebuild Something... If not Karma, if not Am, and If not All...”
“… The BUDDHA, was Sacred! NOT, The Mara…” “… ALL were living, “Once, Bitten…”
Reading on, he reached a brief Chapter, about, "Karma," and something called, "Anu-Yoga." Apparently, "Anu-Yoga," gave one, entire control of all of their Bodily Processes.
Once he had read it, he had to look back and wonder how, "Anu-Yoga," had been Mastered.
Eldritch Spellbound, had further commentary for him to consider.
"... The First Buddhist Monks...," stated Spellbound, "... Would Go On Pilgrimages To Sacred Monasteries, Where They Would Commit Unspeakable Evils, Including Mortive Sacrifice Of Their Own, Just To Attempt To Later Purify Themselves Of The Deeds Formerly Done There, With A More Full Knowledge And Reckoning Of How To Further Disavow It In Their Line, Into The Future…”
“… They Intended, To Offer Their Families, Only The Cleaner Truths Of Their Knowledge, Once Returning Home..."
Wouldn’t God Moral That It’s Unsaintly To Go, “Baited,” And Then, “Untainted,” But For A, “Let Off,” By Him? Andrei Wondered.
Just then, he heard Vesta exclaiming to Harold that the Groceries he had just brought over in the haul, sounded like a Pile. Andrei went back indoors, to join them.
…
'The Book of the, "Ho-Do"', had a reference Tagged in it, on the Opposite Side of the Page, with a Paperclip, denoting the First Segment of a Book of Literature (also Read by Mr. Dizzmith), by the title, 'The Shadow of the Dalai Lama'.
‘One’s Past Tears’.
Ben was an Atlantean, who mapped the Interstellar Realms, and Anything Else, up and into its own Realm Of Cahoozits. Even as a Novice, he was Prodigal. All he ever needed, was a Place To Start.
One such Map of his, had begun as a Ring, and then Branched Out. It was to be a Tree Civilization… For Elves.
…
The Reptilians, back then, Dodged and Darted the Woodland. Ben had Charted, somewhat, out of their Bearances, by his Checking. They, at first, and most likely always, being the Enemy. Though, wherever Ben touched to the line of Gravity, even when on a Map/Chart, was Gray, Craw, and, Pit. The Cockleshell Types of Merits that won over his own, by him, were loot of Brigandy. By Breg/Coastline? “Stuff.”
…
Ben had never even Traded a Fur, and fretted over the Fun in Funds. It was Ludocrative Genius Stuff, and he hardly played anything but a Beam of Light to it’s Lie in the Lignum.
“… Remu’sal Dew’s, Cast Arraignment Over That Land…”
In Truth, he bet on those rays being bent and ever so anthemically architected, that they would placard, by sound (and water), the, which he knew must, when he lit up, still to then lie the plants and trees inland. Stuff a’blonte’d.
Much of it, he presumed, was blunt. Blonde, like beach wood. He had used it to construct before. It was an A’bram’a Wrot’a, Vort’d by Roule.
He’d even Oath on that.
…
Needless to say, Ben knew Physic. Other likes of his own, just wouldn’t hit… Even? Ever.
…
Then, however, on the day he received his first employ, he was cut off… from light, from sound… from everything.
Out from the Fisheries, and Headed Straight to the Equestrian Leads of Terrain, and their Keep. Apart from the Mariner's backing, or Men located there, he discovered that there, even the owned… “Amphi-beatri’colts,” were un-in his, “Select Favour of Moral.”
…
They Bred off the Puls, and Helmed in Cool Ichors, of his own People’s Undead. As though his Atlantean Humanity were some form of Unbidden Lag-Yags/Sea Stock. But, those people of his line, weren’t Cag, or Slag, of any. His people could have walked inland that far, but needed their Lob-Ster in.
What Ben found, in searching further inland, was that the lands stunk, and stung. He ultimately found himself in a caste of weir’-ellington warriors of odd type. He would bid them… Not war! They were not even all that regular.
…
Centaurs, for one, taught the Prefectures in the clearings and made quick rehearsals for the amphibe’ats. Those, being the dreaded hybrid degenerate breed of reptile and centaur.
Ben, retorted to an arms in-specialist, that the reptiles he knew about by now, were not a threat, LIKE the stock that weren’t of them. They were, in fact, ALL just exactly THAT, and he didn’t feel like being sarcastic with the man. Those type only thought to Roost.
…
A Western East, which led on the Paladies of Dragons.
Ben would settle as a mason-and-stocks provider for the Human Settlement’s, “Courtland Inn.”
‘The Book of Wyrms’. 'Smoking Signum Rings’.
"... 'Signum'...," "... A word meaning, "Sign," "Mark," "Emblem," "Miracle," "Statue," and/or, "The Cross of Jesus Christ & Christianity." Though, who could have ever dubbed within it, the meaning of a, "Sigarette," "Vapoured."
The term, "Cigarette," can be found as a, "Cig.” The term, "Cig," alongside the term, "Cyg," is classified as a, "Dhewh."
"Dhewh," is a, "Smoke, Mist, or Haze."
…
The, "Sig," in, "Cig,” comes from when the term, “Cig,” is paired with the term, "Cyg," while in or under, "Dhewh"/"Smoke," and by looking further into the word, "Cyg,” you will find, "Cyg," means, "Cygnet," and rather than spelling it only by its in of the Bird ("The Swan"), when of it's Root Word in Middle English, Cygnet also spells out, "Signet (Like the, "Ring")," with the Latin Root Word, "Signum."
This is how the, "Miracle," is kept in the, "Smoke." Furthermore, "Num," as in, "Numinous," can also mean, Vapourous, albeit that term in all honesty, is rarely used that way..."
~ “God Is In Signs, Though, Not Only Of Smoke.” ~
...
"... In a Pipe Bowl, are all Four Elements.
(🌎) Earth is the Leaf. (🌬️) Air, Circumferences the Bowl, and can be found both Above and Below It. (🔥) Fire, is lit within the Bowl's Centre, and from it's Mini Spark, creates a, "Water (🌊)," by Burning the Leaves. (🌧️) Or rather, a, "Liquid Smoke."
The fact that (💜) Spirit can also be known to frequent the Bowl, makes the Tobacco Pipe, very alike it's own Little Dimension.
Some rare Smokers have even been able to meet a (🧚) Pipe Bowl Denizen in there. Though, not all live to tell the tale.
(🌎) Earth: "Daun," is a, "Leaf." (🌧️) Water: "Dhewh," is a categorical point of reference for both, "Cig," and, "Cyg." It means, "Mist," and/or, "Haze." (💜) Spirit: "Thúmōs," is a word meaning, "Smoke," "Offering," "Heart," "Spirit," and, *"Soul," * (🌱) 'Aristotle' (In his Teachings, had Commented on, "Plants having Soul").
…
• 'The Terminology Loop': "The Medicine": 🚬 1. "Cig," can be defined either, as a, "Cigarette," or as a, "Meat," 2. "Meat," has a, 'Welsh', Language, Root Word/Term, called, "Mes," 3. "Mes," is also defined as an, "Aecern (Not, "Acorn," but, "Aecern." Having its Root Words, not in, "Oak & Corn," but actually in, "Berry"/"Fruit")," 4. The, "Berry," would be a, "Bramble," 5. The, "Brambles," in this case, are not, "Raspberries (i.e. "Rasping")," but, "Blackberries," 6. "Blackberries," are used as the definition of the word, "Sméar," 7. "Sméar," without an accent, becomes the word, "Smear," 8. A, "Smear," is a, "Rub," 9. A, "Rub," when not a verb, but a noun, is a Medicine, for which, "Tobacco," was used, by the Native People. 🚬..."
‘El Fin?’
As Andrew comes into this story, we see the ancestors on his father's side of the family, bearing the last name Thomlinson, after Doubting Thomas in the Bible.
Andrew's case, while being the same, may have deviated somewhere, though.
He had taken up a burden of Fairy in the year 2004, becoming named Eldritch, a name given him, by a Spirit-Led Divination.
Using a Merriam Websters Dictionary, in a Psychic Art known as Bibliomancy, Andrew asked for an elfin name and received the name Eldritch, meaning weird, eerie, uncanny, and hideous, with root words Elf Kingdom.
This fact retrieval at random, meant he was in a spiritual contract, although he hadn’t supposed that until much later. Reason being? He hadn’t yet learned that such things were possible, nor had he learned the Name of the Spirit, leading the Divination.
Along the preliminary stages, of Andrew’s own burden, he chanced across some material on a Scottish man from Carterhaugh, named Tam Lin. Dated from the 18th Century or more specifically 1796, this man, had been turned elfin by a Lady known as the Nicneven.
The Nicneven/Queen of Elphame, a fair and beautiful, albeit evil, Queen of Fairy, had transformed Tam Lin into an elf for the purposes of a Sacrifice a little while later. She was in the custom of paying a tithe to Hell every 7 years with a mortal soul, in order to continue her Reign of Fairy on Earth.
Tam Lin had escaped her clutches with his love interest and the Nicneven was burned at the stake.
A Tam, or thame, as a theme, implied something. If Andrew had a Fairy-tale Burden by Divination, it couldn’t mean the Nicneven herself, because Andrew, neverminding Tam Lin’s business, was no elf.
However, it could imply a plot line. Would Andrew become the subject of some device?
Dreeing one’s weird. The old phrase, which means surrendering to one’s fate.
Andrei read, from the, "'The Book of, "Ho-Do"’, in, ‘The Book Of Right’.
"... If, in the word, "Smok," a, "Dragon," meets the same classification as, "Smoke..."
Might it be said, that, "Dragons," and, "Tobacco," share something of a similarity, seeing as, "Tobacco," is classified as a, "Smoke."
That is, if only in, how they are both afforded their differences and similitude, within the bracket of the one word, "Smok?"
• "Tobacco Smoke"/"Dragon Dew"/"The Draught of The Dragon." Rumour has it, that, "Elves," are born up, from out of the, "Pipe Leaf"/"Tobacco," by the nature of the, "Mor," in it. These, "Elves," I can only speculate, become, "Blue Ball Vampires," held aloft in, "The Currents."
• "Blue Ball Vampires." Known as, "Asema," "Blue Ball Vampires," are, "Orbs of Blue Light," that, "Prey," on, "Men and Women."
If these, "Asema," travel by Draft, or in the Air, and if, "Sacred Tobacco," is, similarly, called, "Asemaa," by the Natives, is the existence of the, "Blue Ball Vampire," a Concrete Reality," or does it bid that we explore it further?
How far, is anyone really permitted to go, in the study of an ancient Dream dubbed Sacred Herb, not to mention, one so very potentially fatal, as this, insofar as such things are concerned?
And finally, where does one begin to look for answers of Dragons, Elves, and Vampires, if they do exist? Is it not that, indeed they do exist?
'The Cabin'.
Perry was gasping. The wyrm had dropped to the cabin floor.
Scared witless, he reached at it with the rolled up paper, and quickly threw it at the fire, grabbing a towel to cover his damp arm.
Ten seconds later, there was a fissuring crack and a loud hissing sound.
His elbow was numb and throbbed. He was in a shock now, that neared mania. It had spoken!!!
Trail Mix, smiling rocks, butterfly sheep, and elbow icicles that hatch, making a sound like some sort of Ghost of the Wilderness.
Why had his day BEEN like this?
‘The Fold’.
By 2017, Hospitals and Clinics had been ordered to switch over old stationary types, to a new, sustainable type. This included all of the old ink, paper, and manila files or folders. The reason being, because of all of the recent fires the World had been having.
Some scientists had come up with a solution. The favorable switch over? Genetic! Organic staining and fibres could now be used as a replacement to the ordinary stationary types. These office supplies could be generated from leftover organ cells, in a Lab.
What they didn’t know?
These Office Supplies were in fact generating living Necrotomes of Spirit.
The collusion of ingredients used in the en masse production, as well as though when found in Office Utilization, all the while would leak an unknown kind of detri-stol, which led some experts to believe the ingredients were not proven enough to be safe.
God was undoubtedly in agreement that this wicked device was not anything, but unethical, as he made the World, one even bigger chart to merit.
What did Avem think?
The, “Big Business Man,” had been away from work, for most of the Fall. He had had to hire a Stand-In, though, as he had received a faulty, "Contract Lens," and was undergoing surgery to have it removed.
The, which, being known as, "Bionic Lenses," or alternately, "Cyborg Eye," implants. These, "Bionic Lenses," had been designed not only to, 'Improve Sight', but also to, 'Surf the Internet', and find documents, solely using one's brain power.
People, however, were now being, "Repossessed (as ludicrous as it may sound)," for, "Part Share." The devices framed them specifically, with, "Illegal Data Possession,” all the while exhibiting powerful forms of, "Subjective Coercion,” and, “Mind-Control.”
The irony of this particular instance, was that, “Mr. Biz (i.e. It's, “Newly Contracted Licensee”),” was to hold onto it for a set term as a new Prototype Model. His unfortunate turnabout? It had been surfacing Illegal Documents regarding the Maker of the Eye, itself.
Rather than hold onto the Glitch Fob, he wore a Glass Eye replacement, leaving the Prototype’s Company, permanently on hold.
That man… was Ralph.
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...
Chapter 003.
...
'The Never-Land Pipe of Un-Earth'.
Peter Pan had a Pipe. It was a Musical Pipe. Many think that he never used a Tobacco Pipe, but those who pay close attention, know that he used one of those, as well.
What can we say? He's an immortal minor. Morals debatable?
Anyhow, Tiger Lily is one such character, who evidentially (in a Story, such as Barrie's), would have created this premise. For a Tobacco Pipe to exist in the World of the famous Pan, Never-Never Land, that is.
But why mention Never-Land, specifically when our focus is Tobacco?
The principal of how a good Dreaming Herb Pipe, "Un-Earths," within it, the Vision is, because it is, "Never-Landian."
How it bears distinction, though, is in how, when Tobacco Dreaming, it is not about the discovery of any Chartable Territory, so much as it is, the discovery of things of the Spirit.
That is as if to say, though as it were, in either the Supernal or the Infernal Realms of Existence... Communicating through a Lantern into the Mundane.
What about Peter? Oh, well he probably has other issues like finding his shadow, after Wendy fetched it in through the window. If she can sew it, she must be a Crafter. Look for a Book!
I joke.
But on a thoughtful note, with Tinkerbell... Really, "Tin-Kerb-Elle (though most believe the origin is, "Trinqueballer")," there is a Guardian Spirit over Orphans, who watches for tin carriages left at kerbs.
Keep your children off the street.
This example, was given an uplifting note, with the "Tinkerbelle Lilac," which also represents first love, or, "sacred vows (i.e. The, "Kiss," of Guardians, "Peter and Wendy")."
That said, a real, "Never-Land," Tobacco Pipe, would be a gift of Faerie to Earth.
That is, once you ignore the, “Never-Never”/”Procrastination,” it requires to use one.
Of important reckon, is that it bore Elves. Well, depending on how you read into the nature of an Elf. Many professional researchers into the topic, have it that they're Disease Spirits.
Firstly, "Moira," is, "A Fate (Female Personification)," Moirai or Moirae, are plural.
Strangely enough, "Mor," is what one calls a, "Blackberry," or, "Mulberry."
"Blackberries," play a crucial role in the (Cyclical), "Transliterational Computation-Feed," of the "Tobacco Medicine Terminology-Loop."
Altering the Word, "Mor," to it's similar equivalency of spelling, "Mór," when in Irish, allows it to be easily transcribed into the alternative Irish, "Már," and afterward, the Portuguese, "Mar," from Kabuverdianu.
The Derived Finnish Term, "Marat," from the Hungarian hold on the earlier word, "Mar (for, “Bite")," is the term for, "Nightmare," from the whence, Germanic, "Alps," or, "Elves," were given their substantiation..."
Are you sure they’re healthy? asked Andrei.
I know, aren’t they absolutely splendid? Vesta crowed. Look, look, look! she began. She then ran into another room, and came back with a necklace of White Horse Eye shells.
Um?
They’re just like them! Well, One. See, The Butterfly Koi Fish on that End of the Tank.
Well yeah, and I guess, but don’t you think that would be somewhat expected?
Nevermind said Vesta, then what would you like to do? Harold’s out at the Grocers, she said, and he said he’d be back by Three. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you since you were about that age… … Anyhow, there were three Fish here, but as you can tell, there are only two here now. She turned to the side on her Ivory and Salmon Loveseat, looking out the Window. Humph! I just don’t have the slightest idea of where the other one went.
Andrei, looked stupidly at the remaining two. It didn’t impact their stamina in the slightest.
Andrei found the back lawn shoveled. There was a slight coolish wind outside, the sun beat moderately balmy, and the snow had melted somewhat, it now had an icy crust to it.
I think I’ll go sit outside, fashioned Andrei to his fitting in distemperate.
Okay, and fine, fustered Vesta, pulling a Woman’s Magazine out from a teetering tower.
...
Andrei stretched out his right arm, and yawned. He was holding a Book with his left hand, while sitting in an Armed, Tawn-iZee Recline, Wooden Dock Chair.
Hmm...
He had watched their TV. It had felt like the first time in ages that he had done thus, when in fact the last time had simply been an escapade leading to Ghibli and then none.
Harold and Vesta's one-time catch of a TV Microwave, hung above their Stove as a Range Hood.
It was a Smart Microwave, with a TV on the Door, and had Channels to watch while Cooking. The family prepared fish by it. Andrei, however, had watched, ‘Flipper’.
This Microwave did literally ALL. It even Played Music and had an Inventory of Recipes for Upload. It would tell you your Food's Temperature, while hanging above the Cooking on the Stovetop. It did so, by a High-Tech analysis, and could tell Ingredients, it was, ‘General Electric’.
He had been reading something, which said, "... The Devil's in the Details...," when it suddenly occurred to him that there were many details on the screen and the figures on it were in the same Box as his Food.
"... Oni...," Andrei read in the Next Chapter, "... are an Asian variety of Cannibal Demon, and in no way the, "Uncanny Ba'alisters," they appear..."
Wait, thought Andrei. Those were the Japanese Vampires from in the, ‘Vampire Book’.
"... There is a difference...," said Eldritch Spellbound, in, ‘The Book Of Right’, "... between worshipping God, and worshipping Demons of Ba'al…
… There is (yet again), a difference between saving life, and sacrificing life. And further to the point I would make here…,” he announced, “… There is a difference in living a good life. That is, not living perverted! That goes also, for living with good in one’s testimony, for it is intended of the testimony one makes in life, that it is made accountance for, by Scriptural Referral, Confession, and Prayer… to God or God’s Fellowship. Reason being, that they are one’s company in Heaven…
… Onis are not merely a perverted or twisted reflection on what people do to life. Life ever had an intended course. It wasn't for the belly, hereafter..."
Well, thought Andrei, I see some similarity in what he's saying here, to what he mentioned before, about a man named Carlos Castaneda. What if some God only grows you to eat you?
Then, he realized that was a mortive entitlement, of fickle generations, being too punitive to give their God allowance any Higher Spectrum, or will in it, for themselves or the future generations.
Unless that meant their God was truly undiscovered or they had never had one.
"... It seems, though, that any realm of ambivalence has been given over solely to sordid sanctimony, and ordeals of no value of true sacred meaning or vestige..."
I think what he's saying, thought Andrei, is that while some people only evolve, insofar, as reckoning with a, "Profundi-Tie," we still have a God in a Heaven Who Uplifts Burden, Entitles Us To Sacred Respect, and Delivers Mortality, Out Of It's Punitative Reckon-Checking, by His Awareness, Without Indecent Indoctrinations Into Ignorance, Or Any Extinguishing Of Our Living Flame... The God, Who Entitles Us, To Know How We Are the Living Immortals, Anywhere That We Are, and, Of Proofs of Heaven, Not Only Earth Circumstances that Jettison Us By Retrograding, and the Aftermath.
“… Though…,” recaptured Spellbound, “… Why for, the Asian Dharm?…”, and, “… Who did we, in Who need a Karm?…”, was, “… Toward the Ascendancy of Buddha. For, it was such that, the others, of Line, would be left only to be Buddhists OF the Bodhisattva’s Mission, or not even that! One Buddha had, already, indeed been…”
“… The next premise, then…”, Andrei read, “… Was, over the Taste of Auras, to Ascendants…”, This taste, known in Japan as the, “… Nifofi…”
“… Which, in how the Buddha knew he would Not Partake Of It, Nor Recoil From Any, had the Dharm created. For All Asia, would have Fallen Forward, were it not for The Dharm’s Tutelage, by The Buddha (To Whom Went Their Love, and To Whom They Were Most Indebted), Meaning That, Their Sampling or Rein-tilling Auras, must aim to Rebuild Something... If not Karma, if not Am, and If not All...”
“… The BUDDHA, was Sacred! NOT, The Mara…” “… ALL were living, “Once, Bitten…”
Reading on, he reached a brief Chapter, about, "Karma," and something called, "Anu-Yoga." Apparently, "Anu-Yoga," gave one, entire control of all of their Bodily Processes.
Once he had read it, he had to look back and wonder how, "Anu-Yoga," had been Mastered.
Eldritch Spellbound, had further commentary for him to consider.
"... The First Buddhist Monks...," stated Spellbound, "... Would Go On Pilgrimages To Sacred Monasteries, Where They Would Commit Unspeakable Evils, Including Mortive Sacrifice Of Their Own, Just To Attempt To Later Purify Themselves Of The Deeds Formerly Done There, With A More Full Knowledge And Reckoning Of How To Further Disavow It In Their Line, Into The Future…”
“… They Intended, To Offer Their Families, Only The Cleaner Truths Of Their Knowledge, Once Returning Home..."
Wouldn’t God Moral That It’s Unsaintly To Go, “Baited,” And Then, “Untainted,” But For A, “Let Off,” By Him? Andrei Wondered.
Just then, he heard Vesta exclaiming to Harold that the Groceries he had just brought over in the haul, sounded like a Pile. Andrei went back indoors, to join them.
…
'The Book of the, "Ho-Do"', had a reference Tagged in it, on the Opposite Side of the Page, with a Paperclip, denoting the First Segment of a Book of Literature (also Read by Mr. Dizzmith), by the title, 'The Shadow of the Dalai Lama'.
Ben was an Atlantean, who mapped the Interstellar Realms, and Anything Else, up and into its own Realm Of Cahoozits. Even as a Novice, he was Prodigal. All he ever needed, was a Place To Start.
One such Map of his, had begun as a Ring, and then Branched Out. It was to be a Tree Civilization… For Elves.
…
The Reptilians, back then, Dodged and Darted the Woodland. Ben had Charted, somewhat, out of their Bearances, by his Checking. They, at first, and most likely always, being the Enemy. Though, wherever Ben touched to the line of Gravity, even when on a Map/Chart, was Gray, Craw, and, Pit. The Cockleshell Types of Merits that won over his own, by him, were loot of Brigandy. By Breg/Coastline? “Stuff.”
…
Ben had never even Traded a Fur, and fretted over the Fun in Funds. It was Ludocrative Genius Stuff, and he hardly played anything but a Beam of Light to it’s Lie in the Lignum.
“… Remu’sal Dew’s, Cast Arraignment Over That Land…”
In Truth, he bet on those rays being bent and ever so anthemically architected, that they would placard, by sound (and water), the, which he knew must, when he lit up, still to then lie the plants and trees inland. Stuff a’blonte’d.
Much of it, he presumed, was blunt. Blonde, like beach wood. He had used it to construct before. It was an A’bram’a Wrot’a, Vort’d by Roule.
He’d even Oath on that.
…
Needless to say, Ben knew Physic. Other likes of his own, just wouldn’t hit… Even? Ever.
…
Then, however, on the day he received his first employ, he was cut off… from light, from sound… from everything.
Out from the Fisheries, and Headed Straight to the Equestrian Leads of Terrain, and their Keep. Apart from the Mariner's backing, or Men located there, he discovered that there, even the owned… “Amphi-beatri’colts,” were un-in his, “Select Favour of Moral.”
…
They Bred off the Puls, and Helmed in Cool Ichors, of his own People’s Undead. As though his Atlantean Humanity were some form of Unbidden Lag-Yags/Sea Stock. But, those people of his line, weren’t Cag, or Slag, of any. His people could have walked inland that far, but needed their Lob-Ster in.
What Ben found, in searching further inland, was that the lands stunk, and stung. He ultimately found himself in a caste of weir’-ellington warriors of odd type. He would bid them… Not war! They were not even all that regular.
…
Centaurs, for one, taught the Prefectures in the clearings and made quick rehearsals for the amphibe’ats. Those, being the dreaded hybrid degenerate breed of reptile and centaur.
Ben, retorted to an arms in-specialist, that the reptiles he knew about by now, were not a threat, LIKE the stock that weren’t of them. They were, in fact, ALL just exactly THAT, and he didn’t feel like being sarcastic with the man. Those type only thought to Roost.
…
A Western East, which led on the Paladies of Dragons.
Ben would settle as a mason-and-stocks provider for the Human Settlement’s, “Courtland Inn.”
"... 'Signum'...," "... A word meaning, "Sign," "Mark," "Emblem," "Miracle," "Statue," and/or, "The Cross of Jesus Christ & Christianity." Though, who could have ever dubbed within it, the meaning of a, "Sigarette," "Vapoured."
The term, "Cigarette," can be found as a, "Cig.” The term, "Cig," alongside the term, "Cyg," is classified as a, "Dhewh."
"Dhewh," is a, "Smoke, Mist, or Haze."
…
The, "Sig," in, "Cig,” comes from when the term, “Cig,” is paired with the term, "Cyg," while in or under, "Dhewh"/"Smoke," and by looking further into the word, "Cyg,” you will find, "Cyg," means, "Cygnet," and rather than spelling it only by its in of the Bird ("The Swan"), when of it's Root Word in Middle English, Cygnet also spells out, "Signet (Like the, "Ring")," with the Latin Root Word, "Signum."
This is how the, "Miracle," is kept in the, "Smoke." Furthermore, "Num," as in, "Numinous," can also mean, Vapourous, albeit that term in all honesty, is rarely used that way..."
~ “God Is In Signs, Though, Not Only Of Smoke.” ~
...
"... In a Pipe Bowl, are all Four Elements.
(🌎) Earth is the Leaf. (🌬️) Air, Circumferences the Bowl, and can be found both Above and Below It. (🔥) Fire, is lit within the Bowl's Centre, and from it's Mini Spark, creates a, "Water (🌊)," by Burning the Leaves. (🌧️) Or rather, a, "Liquid Smoke."
The fact that (💜) Spirit can also be known to frequent the Bowl, makes the Tobacco Pipe, very alike it's own Little Dimension.
Some rare Smokers have even been able to meet a (🧚) Pipe Bowl Denizen in there. Though, not all live to tell the tale.
(🌎) Earth: "Daun," is a, "Leaf." (🌧️) Water: "Dhewh," is a categorical point of reference for both, "Cig," and, "Cyg." It means, "Mist," and/or, "Haze." (💜) Spirit: "Thúmōs," is a word meaning, "Smoke," "Offering," "Heart," "Spirit," and, *"Soul," * (🌱) 'Aristotle' (In his Teachings, had Commented on, "Plants having Soul").
…
• 'The Terminology Loop': "The Medicine": 🚬 1. "Cig," can be defined either, as a, "Cigarette," or as a, "Meat," 2. "Meat," has a, 'Welsh', Language, Root Word/Term, called, "Mes," 3. "Mes," is also defined as an, "Aecern (Not, "Acorn," but, "Aecern." Having its Root Words, not in, "Oak & Corn," but actually in, "Berry"/"Fruit")," 4. The, "Berry," would be a, "Bramble," 5. The, "Brambles," in this case, are not, "Raspberries (i.e. "Rasping")," but, "Blackberries," 6. "Blackberries," are used as the definition of the word, "Sméar," 7. "Sméar," without an accent, becomes the word, "Smear," 8. A, "Smear," is a, "Rub," 9. A, "Rub," when not a verb, but a noun, is a Medicine, for which, "Tobacco," was used, by the Native People. 🚬..."
As Andrew comes into this story, we see the ancestors on his father's side of the family, bearing the last name Thomlinson, after Doubting Thomas in the Bible.
Andrew's case, while being the same, may have deviated somewhere, though.
He had taken up a burden of Fairy in the year 2004, becoming named Eldritch, a name given him, by a Spirit-Led Divination.
Using a Merriam Websters Dictionary, in a Psychic Art known as Bibliomancy, Andrew asked for an elfin name and received the name Eldritch, meaning weird, eerie, uncanny, and hideous, with root words Elf Kingdom.
This fact retrieval at random, meant he was in a spiritual contract, although he hadn’t supposed that until much later. Reason being? He hadn’t yet learned that such things were possible, nor had he learned the Name of the Spirit, leading the Divination.
Along the preliminary stages, of Andrew’s own burden, he chanced across some material on a Scottish man from Carterhaugh, named Tam Lin. Dated from the 18th Century or more specifically 1796, this man, had been turned elfin by a Lady known as the Nicneven.
The Nicneven/Queen of Elphame, a fair and beautiful, albeit evil, Queen of Fairy, had transformed Tam Lin into an elf for the purposes of a Sacrifice a little while later. She was in the custom of paying a tithe to Hell every 7 years with a mortal soul, in order to continue her Reign of Fairy on Earth.
Tam Lin had escaped her clutches with his love interest and the Nicneven was burned at the stake.
A Tam, or thame, as a theme, implied something. If Andrew had a Fairy-tale Burden by Divination, it couldn’t mean the Nicneven herself, because Andrew, neverminding Tam Lin’s business, was no elf.
However, it could imply a plot line. Would Andrew become the subject of some device?
Dreeing one’s weird. The old phrase, which means surrendering to one’s fate.
"... If, in the word, "Smok," a, "Dragon," meets the same classification as, "Smoke..."
Might it be said, that, "Dragons," and, "Tobacco," share something of a similarity, seeing as, "Tobacco," is classified as a, "Smoke."
That is, if only in, how they are both afforded their differences and similitude, within the bracket of the one word, "Smok?"
• "Tobacco Smoke"/"Dragon Dew"/"The Draught of The Dragon." Rumour has it, that, "Elves," are born up, from out of the, "Pipe Leaf"/"Tobacco," by the nature of the, "Mor," in it. These, "Elves," I can only speculate, become, "Blue Ball Vampires," held aloft in, "The Currents."
• "Blue Ball Vampires." Known as, "Asema," "Blue Ball Vampires," are, "Orbs of Blue Light," that, "Prey," on, "Men and Women."
If these, "Asema," travel by Draft, or in the Air, and if, "Sacred Tobacco," is, similarly, called, "Asemaa," by the Natives, is the existence of the, "Blue Ball Vampire," a Concrete Reality," or does it bid that we explore it further?
How far, is anyone really permitted to go, in the study of an ancient Dream dubbed Sacred Herb, not to mention, one so very potentially fatal, as this, insofar as such things are concerned?
And finally, where does one begin to look for answers of Dragons, Elves, and Vampires, if they do exist? Is it not that, indeed they do exist?
- Note: Dragons, Elves, and Vampires, all relate, through the Babylonian, "Royal Elven," Bloodline, of Prince Nicholas De Vere..."
Perry was gasping. The wyrm had dropped to the cabin floor.
Scared witless, he reached at it with the rolled up paper, and quickly threw it at the fire, grabbing a towel to cover his damp arm.
Ten seconds later, there was a fissuring crack and a loud hissing sound.
His elbow was numb and throbbed. He was in a shock now, that neared mania. It had spoken!!!
Trail Mix, smiling rocks, butterfly sheep, and elbow icicles that hatch, making a sound like some sort of Ghost of the Wilderness.
Why had his day BEEN like this?
By 2017, Hospitals and Clinics had been ordered to switch over old stationary types, to a new, sustainable type. This included all of the old ink, paper, and manila files or folders. The reason being, because of all of the recent fires the World had been having.
Some scientists had come up with a solution. The favorable switch over? Genetic! Organic staining and fibres could now be used as a replacement to the ordinary stationary types. These office supplies could be generated from leftover organ cells, in a Lab.
What they didn’t know?
These Office Supplies were in fact generating living Necrotomes of Spirit.
The collusion of ingredients used in the en masse production, as well as though when found in Office Utilization, all the while would leak an unknown kind of detri-stol, which led some experts to believe the ingredients were not proven enough to be safe.
God was undoubtedly in agreement that this wicked device was not anything, but unethical, as he made the World, one even bigger chart to merit.
What did Avem think?
The, which, being known as, "Bionic Lenses," or alternately, "Cyborg Eye," implants. These, "Bionic Lenses," had been designed not only to, 'Improve Sight', but also to, 'Surf the Internet', and find documents, solely using one's brain power.
People, however, were now being, "Repossessed (as ludicrous as it may sound)," for, "Part Share." The devices framed them specifically, with, "Illegal Data Possession,” all the while exhibiting powerful forms of, "Subjective Coercion,” and, “Mind-Control.”
The irony of this particular instance, was that, “Mr. Biz (i.e. It's, “Newly Contracted Licensee”),” was to hold onto it for a set term as a new Prototype Model. His unfortunate turnabout? It had been surfacing Illegal Documents regarding the Maker of the Eye, itself.
Rather than hold onto the Glitch Fob, he wore a Glass Eye replacement, leaving the Prototype’s Company, permanently on hold.
That man… was Ralph.
2023.03.22 19:42 CS057BEEP Open to dms 24/7, catfish me/rp with pics as any of them as a teacher, a class mate, step sister/cousin, hot neighbor/ roommate, anything goes for plot, can show off/cam
 | submitted by CS057BEEP to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 19:27 Captainmanic Write a story of what happens to the CCP after their failed invasion of Taiwan. - @ Bing AI
Here is a possible story of what happens to the CCP after their failed invasion of Taiwan:
```
The year is 2026, and China's President Xi Jinping is facing the biggest crisis of his career. His gamble to invade Taiwan has backfired spectacularly, resulting in a humiliating defeat for the PLA and a diplomatic isolation for China. The invasion, which began with a massive air and missile strike on Taiwan's defenses, was met with fierce resistance from Taiwan's military and civilian population, as well as swift intervention from the US and its allies. The PLA suffered heavy losses in men and materiel, while failing to establish a foothold on the island or break its will to resist. The invasion also triggered a global backlash against China, with many countries imposing sanctions, suspending trade, recalling ambassadors, expelling diplomats, canceling projects, boycotting events, etc.. China's economy took a nosedive as its exports plummeted and its imports became scarce. China's reputation as a responsible power was shattered as it was widely condemned for violating international law and norms.
Xi Jinping tried to salvage his prestige by declaring victory and blaming foreign interference for his failure. He also cracked down on any dissent or criticism within China, arresting journalists, activists, intellectuals, officials, etc.. who dared to question his decisions or expose his mistakes. He also tightened his grip on the CCP, purging any rivals or potential challengers within the party ranks. He also intensified his propaganda campaign to rally the Chinese people around him and his vision of national rejuvenation.
However, Xi Jinping's efforts to maintain his power and legitimacy were not enough to quell the growing discontent and resentment among the Chinese people. Many Chinese felt betrayed by Xi Jinping's lies and deception about the invasion and its consequences. They also felt angry about the economic hardship and social instability caused by his policies. They also felt ashamed of China's international isolation and loss of face. They also felt disillusioned with Xi Jinping's authoritarian rule and lack of accountability.
The seeds of rebellion began to sprout in various parts of China. In Hong Kong, pro-democracy protesters resumed their mass demonstrations against Beijing's interference in their affairs. In Xinjiang, Uyghur Muslims rose up against Beijing's oppression and genocide of their people. In Tibet, Buddhist monks staged self-immolations to protest Beijing's suppression of their religion and culture. In Inner Mongolia, ethnic Mongols demanded autonomy from Beijing's assimilation policies. In Guangdong province bordering Hong Kong Macau Shenzhen Zhuhai etc.. millions of workers went on strike demanding better wages working conditions rights etc.. In Sichuan province home to many Tibetans Qiang Yi etc.. thousands of farmers rioted against land seizures environmental degradation corruption etc.. In Shanghai Beijing Chongqing Tianjin etc.. urban residents protested against rising prices pollution censorship surveillance etc..
The CCP tried to suppress these rebellions with force but found itself overwhelmed by the scale scope intensity diversity etc.. of the resistance movements It also faced defections desertions mutinies etc.. within its own ranks as some PLA soldiers police officers officials etc.. refused to obey orders or switched sides The CCP also faced pressure from outside as some foreign governments NGOs media outlets activists celebrities etc.. supported recognized funded armed trained advised mediated negotiated etc.. with some of the rebels
The CCP eventually collapsed under its own weight losing control over most parts of China except for some loyalist strongholds The rebels declared themselves independent sovereign democratic states forming new alliances federations confederations unions coalitions partnerships etc.. with each other or with other countries Xi Jinping fled into exile along with some of his cronies seeking refuge in North Korea Iran Venezuela Cuba Zimbabwe Sudan Syria Somalia Afghanistan Pakistan Russia Belarus Kazakhstan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Mongolia Nepal Bhutan Myanmar Laos Cambodia Vietnam Thailand Malaysia Indonesia Philippines Brunei Singapore Timor-Leste Papua New Guinea Australia New Zealand Fiji Tonga Samoa Tuvalu Kiribati Nauru Marshall Islands Micronesia Palau Solomon Islands Vanuatu New Caledonia French Polynesia Cook Islands Niue Tokelau Wallis Futuna American Samoa Guam Northern Mariana Islands Hawaii Alaska Canada Mexico Guatemala Belize Honduras El Salvador Nicaragua Costa Rica Panama Colombia Ecuador Peru Bolivia Chile Argentina Uruguay Paraguay Brazil Suriname Guyana French Guiana Venezuela Trinidad Tobago Grenada St Vincent Grenadines St Lucia Dominica Antigua Barbuda St Kitts Nevis Montserrat Anguilla British Virgin Islands US Virgin Islands Puerto Rico Dominican Republic Haiti Cuba Jamaica Cayman Islands Turks Caicos Bahamas Bermuda Greenland Iceland Norway Sweden Finland Denmark Estonia Latvia Lithuania Poland Germany Netherlands Belgium Luxembourg France UK Ireland Spain Portugal Andorra Monaco Liechtenstein Switzerland Italy San Marino Vatican City Malta Cyprus Greece Turkey Armenia Azerbaijan Georgia Ukraine Moldova Romania Bulgaria Serbia Kosovo Montenegro Albania Macedonia Bosnia Herzegovina Croatia Slovenia Hungary Slovakia Czech Republic Austria Belarus Russia Lithuania Latvia Estonia Finland Sweden Norway Denmark
Source: Conversation with Bing, 3/22/2023(1) US Homeland at Risk in CCP Taiwan Invasion: Army Secretary. https://www.theepochtimes.com/us-homeland-at-risk-in-ccp-taiwan-invasion-army-secretary_5092870.html Accessed 3/22/2023.
(2) Why Doesn't China Invade Taiwan? - Foreign Policy. https://foreignpolicy.com/2022/08/10/china-taiwan-invasion-reunification-risk/ Accessed 3/22/2023.
(3) How We Would Know When China Is Preparing to Invade Taiwan. https://carnegieendowment.org/2022/10/03/how-we-would-know-when-china-is-preparing-to-invade-taiwan-pub-88053 Accessed 3/22/2023.
(4) US Homeland at Risk in CCP Taiwan Invasion: Army Secretary. https://www.theepochtimes.com/us-homeland-at-risk-in-ccp-taiwan-invasion-army-secretary_5092870.html Accessed 3/22/2023.
(5) CCP Leaked Invasion Plans for Taiwan and the South China Sea: The .... https://www.jewishpolicycenter.org/2022/06/16/ccp-leaked-invasion-plans-for-taiwan-and-the-south-china-sea-the-threat-of-unmanned-warfare/ Accessed 3/22/2023.
submitted by Captainmanic to NewColdWar [link] [comments]
```
The year is 2026, and China's President Xi Jinping is facing the biggest crisis of his career. His gamble to invade Taiwan has backfired spectacularly, resulting in a humiliating defeat for the PLA and a diplomatic isolation for China. The invasion, which began with a massive air and missile strike on Taiwan's defenses, was met with fierce resistance from Taiwan's military and civilian population, as well as swift intervention from the US and its allies. The PLA suffered heavy losses in men and materiel, while failing to establish a foothold on the island or break its will to resist. The invasion also triggered a global backlash against China, with many countries imposing sanctions, suspending trade, recalling ambassadors, expelling diplomats, canceling projects, boycotting events, etc.. China's economy took a nosedive as its exports plummeted and its imports became scarce. China's reputation as a responsible power was shattered as it was widely condemned for violating international law and norms.
Xi Jinping tried to salvage his prestige by declaring victory and blaming foreign interference for his failure. He also cracked down on any dissent or criticism within China, arresting journalists, activists, intellectuals, officials, etc.. who dared to question his decisions or expose his mistakes. He also tightened his grip on the CCP, purging any rivals or potential challengers within the party ranks. He also intensified his propaganda campaign to rally the Chinese people around him and his vision of national rejuvenation.
However, Xi Jinping's efforts to maintain his power and legitimacy were not enough to quell the growing discontent and resentment among the Chinese people. Many Chinese felt betrayed by Xi Jinping's lies and deception about the invasion and its consequences. They also felt angry about the economic hardship and social instability caused by his policies. They also felt ashamed of China's international isolation and loss of face. They also felt disillusioned with Xi Jinping's authoritarian rule and lack of accountability.
The seeds of rebellion began to sprout in various parts of China. In Hong Kong, pro-democracy protesters resumed their mass demonstrations against Beijing's interference in their affairs. In Xinjiang, Uyghur Muslims rose up against Beijing's oppression and genocide of their people. In Tibet, Buddhist monks staged self-immolations to protest Beijing's suppression of their religion and culture. In Inner Mongolia, ethnic Mongols demanded autonomy from Beijing's assimilation policies. In Guangdong province bordering Hong Kong Macau Shenzhen Zhuhai etc.. millions of workers went on strike demanding better wages working conditions rights etc.. In Sichuan province home to many Tibetans Qiang Yi etc.. thousands of farmers rioted against land seizures environmental degradation corruption etc.. In Shanghai Beijing Chongqing Tianjin etc.. urban residents protested against rising prices pollution censorship surveillance etc..
The CCP tried to suppress these rebellions with force but found itself overwhelmed by the scale scope intensity diversity etc.. of the resistance movements It also faced defections desertions mutinies etc.. within its own ranks as some PLA soldiers police officers officials etc.. refused to obey orders or switched sides The CCP also faced pressure from outside as some foreign governments NGOs media outlets activists celebrities etc.. supported recognized funded armed trained advised mediated negotiated etc.. with some of the rebels
The CCP eventually collapsed under its own weight losing control over most parts of China except for some loyalist strongholds The rebels declared themselves independent sovereign democratic states forming new alliances federations confederations unions coalitions partnerships etc.. with each other or with other countries Xi Jinping fled into exile along with some of his cronies seeking refuge in North Korea Iran Venezuela Cuba Zimbabwe Sudan Syria Somalia Afghanistan Pakistan Russia Belarus Kazakhstan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan Kyrgyzstan Tajikistan Mongolia Nepal Bhutan Myanmar Laos Cambodia Vietnam Thailand Malaysia Indonesia Philippines Brunei Singapore Timor-Leste Papua New Guinea Australia New Zealand Fiji Tonga Samoa Tuvalu Kiribati Nauru Marshall Islands Micronesia Palau Solomon Islands Vanuatu New Caledonia French Polynesia Cook Islands Niue Tokelau Wallis Futuna American Samoa Guam Northern Mariana Islands Hawaii Alaska Canada Mexico Guatemala Belize Honduras El Salvador Nicaragua Costa Rica Panama Colombia Ecuador Peru Bolivia Chile Argentina Uruguay Paraguay Brazil Suriname Guyana French Guiana Venezuela Trinidad Tobago Grenada St Vincent Grenadines St Lucia Dominica Antigua Barbuda St Kitts Nevis Montserrat Anguilla British Virgin Islands US Virgin Islands Puerto Rico Dominican Republic Haiti Cuba Jamaica Cayman Islands Turks Caicos Bahamas Bermuda Greenland Iceland Norway Sweden Finland Denmark Estonia Latvia Lithuania Poland Germany Netherlands Belgium Luxembourg France UK Ireland Spain Portugal Andorra Monaco Liechtenstein Switzerland Italy San Marino Vatican City Malta Cyprus Greece Turkey Armenia Azerbaijan Georgia Ukraine Moldova Romania Bulgaria Serbia Kosovo Montenegro Albania Macedonia Bosnia Herzegovina Croatia Slovenia Hungary Slovakia Czech Republic Austria Belarus Russia Lithuania Latvia Estonia Finland Sweden Norway Denmark
Source: Conversation with Bing, 3/22/2023(1) US Homeland at Risk in CCP Taiwan Invasion: Army Secretary. https://www.theepochtimes.com/us-homeland-at-risk-in-ccp-taiwan-invasion-army-secretary_5092870.html Accessed 3/22/2023.
(2) Why Doesn't China Invade Taiwan? - Foreign Policy. https://foreignpolicy.com/2022/08/10/china-taiwan-invasion-reunification-risk/ Accessed 3/22/2023.
(3) How We Would Know When China Is Preparing to Invade Taiwan. https://carnegieendowment.org/2022/10/03/how-we-would-know-when-china-is-preparing-to-invade-taiwan-pub-88053 Accessed 3/22/2023.
(4) US Homeland at Risk in CCP Taiwan Invasion: Army Secretary. https://www.theepochtimes.com/us-homeland-at-risk-in-ccp-taiwan-invasion-army-secretary_5092870.html Accessed 3/22/2023.
(5) CCP Leaked Invasion Plans for Taiwan and the South China Sea: The .... https://www.jewishpolicycenter.org/2022/06/16/ccp-leaked-invasion-plans-for-taiwan-and-the-south-china-sea-the-threat-of-unmanned-warfare/ Accessed 3/22/2023.
2023.03.22 18:38 Mashiin1 Does anyone else think we see too many attractive people these days?
I honestly think this is one of the biggest reasons as to why body insecurity and anxiety linked to that is so common these days. If you’re on TikTok or Instagram or even Reddit, you’ll be seeing 10/10 people all the time. Scrolling through my For You page on TT I swear I see a person blessed by Aphrodite herself every 10 seconds, and it’s probably not healthy. With so many attractive people all the time it just makes you feel even more insecure, even though most of us are probably pretty attractive, just not to that level.
Compare this to like 100 years ago. The average person probably didn’t see as many super attractive people in their whole life as most modern teenagers do in a single week. I think it unconciously raises peoples standards, because we think that there are models hiding around every corner, which just isn’t true for real life.
Now that I feel like i’m more aware of this, i’m also realizing how attractive most people are when you don’t compare them to 10’s all the time. People I used to not find that attractive because I was comparing them to girls like Brooke Monk (TT star) and Olivia Dunne (gymnast) are now attractive to me. And I think that most people will also realize this, eventually. But for some reason we still feel insecure about ourselves. It’s strange. For some reason it’s like we think we’re the outlier, everyone else is attractive but us. It just doesn’t make sense when you think about it. Why are we so hard on ourselves, when it makes no sense?
submitted by Mashiin1 to Discussion [link] [comments]
Compare this to like 100 years ago. The average person probably didn’t see as many super attractive people in their whole life as most modern teenagers do in a single week. I think it unconciously raises peoples standards, because we think that there are models hiding around every corner, which just isn’t true for real life.
Now that I feel like i’m more aware of this, i’m also realizing how attractive most people are when you don’t compare them to 10’s all the time. People I used to not find that attractive because I was comparing them to girls like Brooke Monk (TT star) and Olivia Dunne (gymnast) are now attractive to me. And I think that most people will also realize this, eventually. But for some reason we still feel insecure about ourselves. It’s strange. For some reason it’s like we think we’re the outlier, everyone else is attractive but us. It just doesn’t make sense when you think about it. Why are we so hard on ourselves, when it makes no sense?
2023.03.22 02:05 CS057BEEP Open to dms 24/7, catfish me/rp with pics as any of them as a teacher, a class mate, step sister/cousin, hot neighbor/ roommate, anything goes for plot, can show off/cam
 | submitted by CS057BEEP to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 01:18 Virtual-Thought-4029 I’ve got 1000+ pics of Brooke Monk for anyone that can catfish me as her and mommy dom me and make me eat my cum or joi me to her
 | submitted by Virtual-Thought-4029 to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 00:18 NathanDrake-7344 DM and upvote to get catfished by Brooke on Snap or Reddit!
submitted by NathanDrake-7344 to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments]
2023.03.22 00:11 goldenjared Can someone catfish me and do joi until i cum as brooke monk?
submitted by goldenjared to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments]
2023.03.21 21:49 AloftPoke574 ３００＋ ＯＮＬＹ ＦＡＮＳ ＭＥＧＡ ＦＯＬＤＥＲ ＬＩＮＫＳ 🎁 🎁
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Seduction 513 - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/Seduction513_Mega
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You Dream Of Shay - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/YouDreamOfShay_Mega
You Need Kaycee - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/YouNeedKaycee_Mega
submitted by AloftPoke574 to u/AloftPoke574 [link] [comments]
FRESH NEW UPDATES, OVER 3000 GIGABYTES
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Summer Ann - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/SummerAnn_Mega
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Suzy Marie - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/SuzyMarie_Mega
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Teanna Trump - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/TeannaTrump_Mega
Teresa Lavae - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/TeresaLavae_Mega
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Thumbalina xXx - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/ThumbalinaxXx_Mega
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Trinity Bellwoods - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/TrinityBellwoods_Mega
True Mahogany - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/TrueMahogany_Mega
Turquoise Barbie - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/TurquoiseBarbie_Mega
Veronica Glasses - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/VeronicaGlasses_Mega
Veronica Perasso - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/VeronicaPerasso_Mega
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Viet Bunny - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/VietBunny_Mega
Xonella - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/Xonella_Mega
Yella Mae - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/YellaMae_Mega
You Dream Of Shay - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/YouDreamOfShay_Mega
You Need Kaycee - GET FULL ONLY FANS PROFILE RIP - Leaks.Zone/YouNeedKaycee_Mega
2023.03.21 21:24 Boldsimper_yk Catfish me as Mommy Brooke Monk
submitted by Boldsimper_yk to CatfishMePlease2 [link] [comments]