story | Xadune

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Death of a Warrior

By Ashley Naron

It was late in the afternoon. She’d been sitting and sunning herself, but the sun was not shining as strongly as it could be, the breeze was cooler than she would have liked, and her bones hurt. She was getting old. One of the pups – her daughter’s second youngest son, she assumed (who could keep track?) – scampered up yipping about something his sister had done. She growled and clacked her jaws at him, and he skipped away. She thought about chasing him down and biting him, but thought better of it. Such things were beneath her dignity.

Her dignity, ha. Not so old, yet. She laughed a bit to herself. Not so old as to be complained at by a pup. Did she appear so weak? Was she a leader, or not? She had more important things to do than referee a fight between the young – they should sort it out for themselves. They were nearly old enough to begin training for war anyway.

The smell of blood and death wafted through her nostrils. Such a sweet smell, and so welcome – but just a memory of days past.

Yes, the war. She did need to attend to business. Using her scythe for support, she lifted herself from the ground and made to head back inside. She had reports to consider. With the blockade, they were running short on supplies. Her people were not starving – not yet – but soon enough it might become a more pressing concern.

Her grey jowls shifted into a snarl; a thin string of drool dripped from her jaws.

And besides, she did not want to die cowering with an empty belly and aching bones. She longed to die with her enemy’s blood filling her guts, their life spilling out onto cold ground. She longed to do battle. Longed to snatch the lives from the bodies of those invaders. Longed to teach them an important lesson – not to fuck with her world. Rage began creeping its way up her spine – the red-hot sting of it welcome in sore muscles. She let out a cackle and forced it away.

But she was old, and she had to lead her people to battle. She had learned that sometimes leading meant doing what was best in the long run, and not what felt best right now. Death dealing could wait for the opportune moment; she needed to consider the rations more presently. She stretched, her muscles pulled taut, and her aches receded. She scratched at one notched ear with her bad paw, and yawned wide, showing a fearsome mouth with only a few missing teeth. To business, then.

The first wail sounded loud and long as she reached the doorway. She froze. Her heart hammered. She had seen and felt and known and delivered enough death that she knew grief when she heard it. She turned, and ran towards the sound.

“But the enemy hasn’t made it this far, yet!” She knew that – the reports on their movements came in not even one day ago.

“We hid this site for a reason! We needed to breed more warriors! They can’t know where we are!” She knew that – she’d been the one to select the location.

“My oldest is guarding! They could not slip by her so easily!” She remembered the first time she saw Fisi laughing in battle – remembered how proud she was as she saw her firstborn daughter cleave an enemy’s head from his neck like she was born to it.

And she was born to it, like her mother before her.

The first of her people she saw fall that day was a child. She dropped her weapon – the first time in her life that she had done so without thinking – and knelt next to it’s small body. She rolled him over and saw that it was one of hers – the young pup. Was it a grandson or a great grandson? She struggled to remember. She could not think what he was called. But she knew those spots, as surely as she knew all of them.

She knelt on the cool ground, and cradled him. He was still warm. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth, his eyes, his ears. So much blood – his fur was wet with it. She had seen that before, yes. Tasted it. Reveled in it. But there was no wound! No reason for this death! It was a waste! He stared sightlessly upward, his unblinking eyes reflecting her visage.

A thud, to her left. She turned in time to see another child fall – this one a bit older; this one a girl. The pup thrashed on the ground, clawing at her own throat, heels kicking the red earth, eyes bugging out of her sockets.

“It looks like she’s drowning,” Shujaa thought.

She lunged for the living child, paws digging in her pockets, hoping that she had though to bring any supplies with her. Please, let her have anything on her that could stop this!

She did not have anything that could have stopped this.

More wailing, more thuds, the sounds of panic, fear, chaos. Music to her on the battlefield, but not here. Not for her people. Not like this. There was nothing worthy in this.

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Was she going to be sick? Was her constitution going to fail her like this – now? She had laughed when they cut her mate down in front of her, cackled when they robbed her of her first son, ripped the throats from their warriors when they dared to threaten her village. She would not heave her guts over a few dead pups!

No. She tasted blood bubbling at the back of her throat. Her breath began to run short. She gagged, spit – blood on red, red earth.

Not like this, not like this. She had never been afraid to take the long walk, but not like this. She had prayed to die in battle – and not like this. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and her paw came away red. She inhaled deeply – and her lungs burned. She looked towards the sky, and suddenly found it hazy.

The air did not smell right. It was not right!

And then, she knew. She knew what the elves had done. What retribution they had wrought. She laughed – her war-cry filled the air – something in her twisted and turned and burned. And it was pain. Oh Gods, it was pain. More pain than the time a pinky’s sword sliced through her leg – more pain than losing her right ear. More pain than all the wounds and all the aches she’d accumulated over her long life. She never imagined being in so much pain.

She crawled her way over to the pup as it continued to kick and thrash. The girl tried to reach for her, though the muscle spasms made the gesture impossible. Shujaa felt her own muscles beginning to twitch, but continued onwards. She coughed wetly, felt more blood in her mouth and on her tongue. She reached the pup, and brought it into her arms.

“It will only hurt for a moment more.”

She covered the child’s eyes, and drug her dagger across the pup’s throat. The blood splattered her face, and it was warm. The child kicked once more, and lay still. Would that she could do it for all of them, but she did not think she had the strength to move further. Knew she did not. Her body contorted without her say-so, and she drew in on herself. The dagger dropped from her grip.

While she could, she prayed. To Goddamas, to Echpen, to Grim, to Regality, to Relanegi. And, to Armadel. Let each one of her people’s deaths be a sacrifice. For each one of them that dies, let ten, or twenty, or a thousand of those fucking elves die in response. Let them be avenged.

“Please, avenge us.”

But she could not pray for long. The pain overtook even her. Black and red crept across her vision, the smell and the taste of her own blood overwhelmed her senses, and her mind became consumed by pain.

She laughed. Blood-tears sprang from her eyes, ran down her face, and the cackling poured with it from between her gristle-soaked lips. It did not stop until her soul lifted free.

(Written by Ashley Naron)

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

The Extensive Chronicles and Memoirs of John Night

John Night was born April 11, AFS 051 on a stormy night in the then small city of Piston, Barboroy. From childhood the always enjoyed to watch, study, and observe the people and creatures of the world. By the age of twenty had had already reached world fame with the publication of his first book that explored the night creatures of the Western Kingdom. Though much of the material was speculative and opinionated from outside source, Night went on to study more creatures, places, and cultures throughout Xadune. He was quoted in June of AFS 076 that his life goal was to rewrite this first novel and with firsthand accounts and illustrations.

Shortly later he was drafted to serve in the War of 080 as a scout and corridor. Thankfully he survived, and with even more vigor and enthusiasm towards his love. Throughout the next 30 years Night traveled the world documenting the weird and mundane creatures, people, cultures, and societies that Xadune has to offer. In October of 099 his lifelong dream was answered as he was granted limited permission into the Western Kingdom. The reprint is highly sought after amongst collectors.

Currently Night is still doing what he has dedicated his life to doing. His latest goals include exploration and documentation of the Northern Frontier along with a write-up on a Gatherer. Night has had fourteen failed attempts to reach the Northern Frontier and has yet to witness first hand a Gatherer.

Below and to follow are excerpts from Night’s collective works throughout time. Most have been printed in some other form or fashion in local papers or event the Xadune Herald Tribune. Others might have been something skimmed over in a school or class, but most are what people now might consider common knowledge around Xadune.

Servlings

Throughout my years I have observed these creatures and their habits. In the beginning I believed them to be indigenous to Pha, but as I ventured the world I came to realize the they were indeed used all across the world. I say used because that all they are: a tool. In the wild these creatures normally dwell underground in borrows that are self-made. I’ve only come across three situations were “free-roaming” servlings have been observed. Most all other cases have been while in the servitude of a master, which is the meaning of their name, and seems to be the true nature and purpose for the creatures.

Servlings are relatively small humanoid creatures, standing at most at four feet tall if they stood up straight, but instead hunch over slightly placing them more at the three to three and a half feet tall. They are normally very lean in size; not once have I seen one that could have weighed more than fifth teen pounds. But this small size often takes most people off guard and they should not be underestimated. Three notable features about servlings are as follows: There faces normally appear smooched in, and they lack an actual nose. Instead they have a concaved open cavity where most all other humanoids have a covering that we refer to as a nose or snout. The second most notable feature is their yellow glowing eyes. Though not very notable during the day at night they are almost unmistakable. Though a few other creatures share this rare feature, one can almost always safely bet that if more than one set is seen in the night that they are servlings. Lastly is there skin coloration. I have recorded over 6 different colors of servlings in my travels: brown, black, gray, blue, green, and red. Though throughout the years these are the only colors I have seen, I do not believe it is the extent of their coloration. Skin coloration is most notable because it tends to reflect the true purpose of a servling. Each type has its own set of attributes and abilities special to them.

The apparent nature of their life is to serve. Normally their masters send them out on errands and whatnot to retrieve something or just generally cause a ruckus. Though often destructive along their course to achieve their set goal, one should never truly fear a servling unless they impede them in some way, taunt them, or are part of their preset mission. As mentioned before, they should never be underestimated. When in combat they typically use hoard tactics to outnumber a foe and deal with enemies one at a time, normally swarming one person until they are dead then moving on to the next. They are also very resourceful in looting their surroundings and victims for weapons and items. Their grunts, whines, and broken speak often also serves to confuse targets, but communication amongst each other seems to happen seamlessly. In the end however they are no more special then the next humanoid. Their skin is still soft and easy to puncture, and normally one or two well placed bullets can put one down. Though their natural defensive capabilities vary from type to type they all do have some type of vulnerability.

Pyglins

I have seen many incredible creatures in my travels and I make full note of each and every new being I come across. There was one particular incident that I recall when I was fairly young in my travels. It was a rainy evening and quite cool, so I decided to take residence in a cave I found right on a cliff of the Nigean Mountains. When I wandered to the back I heard a serious of small noises, curiosity got the best of me and as I crouched down in the back of, what I thought was a bear cave, I watched a most peculiar small creature.

From what I could tell they resemble goblins in every way, standing approximately 2-3 feet in height and they have pale yellow skin instead of green… Also they are extremely barbaric and tribal in nature, they seem to always be in packs. When they speak, it is in grunts and chirps, never really anything comprehendible or so I believed. They always wear elongated masks, colored very oddly, with long eccentric noses covering their own pointy noses.

They seemed to be stalking a Quittle, or cave cow, as they are commonly referred to, at that very moment I was observing them. Some carry with them javelins and others blow dart guns. Most of them carry small rusty daggers, though, and don’t seem very strong while they are alone, but, when they attack it is with the entire pack, and they seem to take down larger creatures quicker than they should. I shall refer to these as Maulers. There were a few that were larger than the others, standing closer to 3 1/2 feet and they seemed to be bulging with muscles and appeared to be very strong, these I call Brutes. Then came the Spitters, 2 very small Pygmy like goblins… Pyglins if you will, and one carried a torch. OH MY! He just spit on the Quittle and its flesh is searing! OH BY THE POWERS!!!! The other spit through the fire and ignited his own saliva! I left shortly after, fearing my own safety. This is indeed has been most fascinating thing I have ever witnessed….

Hawksray:

Getting into Darken Wood was hard enough but word travels fast of those who are involved in education and discovery. Once the peoples of this place learned of who I was they accepted me easily enough. The look of amusement on their faces was enough to unsettle any man’s heart. Regardless, I look forward to the adventure!
The first creature I had come across what was referred to as the “Hawksray”. It is near impossible to get close to this creature to get precise documentation while it is alive and during the day – as they are nocturnal creatures. Coming across a carcass of one I took measurements myself, but I had to do so quickly to keep from being in harm’s way in these woods. This massive bird stood as tall as a human, about 5.5-6.5ft.

The species has stout, strong legs and large feet which allows it to walk with ease. The bill – large, rather slender, and had a hooked tip with a wide gape. The wingspan of this monster was between 19 – 26ft in length! The length of the body itself was around 11 feet, give or take and I imagine the weight of it to be around 150lbs.
What I have noted about this creature while alive and still breeding is they flew mainly by soaring, using flapping flight only during short periods. They are carnivorous beasts and will feed on anything of lesser size than themselves. They can often be detected through the night by their screeching bellow. Their shrieks echo through the night to make any man’s or animal’s skin crawl. It sounds as if the world was being ripped open by the means of magic or some other dying force of nature.
With all of these things in mind, I am sure that I will never take to venturing in Darken Wood alone from this point on. As I would hate to be whisked away by this bird before my studies are complete. What an animal!

Pigmys:

Now that I have acquired a team of sorts to go through Darken Wood, I feel better about proceeding with my studies. The creatures I have been excited to cover in the woods are the Pigmy. Truly something that was only told about in stories but never documented. Although hardly an animal, they are small humanoid-like creatures that stand three feet tall. They travel in packs or sometimes even alone. They are frail looking things that are debatable whether they are indigenous to Darken Wood or if they travel here like every other race on Xadune to escape the world.

To look upon them without being outright attacked is a difficult in-itself. So to gather any information on these creatures was a task. I decided to approach cautiously from stilts made of bamboo, which is found around some parts of Darken Wood and is great material for many things. That was a failed attempt as they merely hacked at the stilts and easily maneuvered around, even started up the stilts to try to get to me. I unlatched myself and while in safety conceived another plan. I had never thought that they would be so agile and strong to make it up so high in such a short span of time!

This time I decided to head for higher ground at a distance. Sitting in a convenient spot in a tree, some distance away, I could see the on goings of their “tribe”. They spoke in a broken language that sounds as if it could be related to our common tongue. Pigmys come in different types, but they are hard to distinguish from each other. Maybe with more investigation we can uncover the hidden truth behind these creatures. They are a site to behold that is sure! They have narrow faces, much like the dying breed of Elves, squinted eyes and slightly pointed ears that look worn as if a moth got to them. Their bulbous nose reminds me of a dwarf and has me wondering about the genetics of these creatures. Are they of either species of Dwarf or Elf? Or are they merely a resemblance of either and they are a different breed? Is this another race on Xadune? Can they truly be cultured enough to be civil?

From the looks of their actions, I think not. They quarrel with each other, don’t speak civilized tongue, they take what they want without any question or regard, run about naked and hunt anything that moves. They are truly one wild race.

Ottmorrow Stinger

They warned me not to venture off without a guide. The Western Kingdom is nothing less of an unforgiving maze of what seems to be shifting trees and ground. I had come from the Eastern Faction, I now find myself in the Southern Faction, also known as Silent Wood. I was about to settle down for the night, it had been a long day of adventuring and data logging, then I heard the terrifying howl of something. I quickly stumbled to my feet and hid inside one of the large trees near by. I watched nervously as the sounds got closer and closer. Then I saw it, standing nearly 15 feet tall when not on all floors; black coarse hair with purple stripes here and there. Quills sprout from its back 1-2 feet in length, they look extremely dangerous. Tusks protrude from its jaw, curling back wards, as do its 4 horns that sprout from its head. Its paws could easily cover my entire upper body and the claws to match could effortlessly shred my flesh. A leather like webbing stretch from its elbows to its waist, I am unsure as to why those are there, please tell me this thing cannot glide or fly. Lastly, the feature that stood out the most was it’s tail. About 10 feet in length, its tail is covered in purple flowers that change to the color orange as it reaches the center of the flower projecting from the middle is a thorn, red in color, almost throbbing it seems. I better stop writing, its heading this way.

Sharktopus:

I once had the pleasure of swimming with the elegant and beautiful Water Elemani and through one of their alchemists I was able to gain the ability to breath underwater. I had a pair of engineered fins made for me by a gnome friend of mine, so I was able to keep up fairly well with these beautiful creatures of the sea. Their colony was located off the coast of Pha in the Raspin Ocean and I saw many beautiful creatures of note while in the depths of the sea. But it was when I noticed the elemani signaling me to surface and they had a look of panic about them that I began to really look around. I was unsure of what was going on… and then I saw it as it swam directly under me. It was about 30 meters in length, longer than most airships, and probably weighed close to 150 metric tons. It was beautiful, and I was frozen in aw as this beast glided through the sea. It had the head and upper dorsal fin of a shark, but the body of an octopus. The main tentacle, which formed just past the dorsal fin, was where most of the length of the beast came from, it was probably close to 20 meters in length, and on the end of it was the tail fin of the shark… quite peculiar, I thought to myself. The other 7 were much short in length, around 10 meters each, and moved the beast through the water at surprising speed.

I looked around and saw the elemani tribe floating in place, trying not to bring any attention to the beast. It was here that we saw a chance of escape, a large whale was off in the distance, it was about half the size of the beast under us, and a companion water elemani began to cast a spell, which in its own, underwater, is a sight to witness. He fired a projectile through the water and it struck the whale, we could see traces of blood seep into the water in a cloud like effect. This definitely got the beasts attention; it veered its course and bolted towards the doomed creature. As it got close it surprisingly flipped its body and began to wrap the beast with its much longer tentacle fin, much like that of a large snake. The whale struggle in a futile effort, but was no match for the oversized beast. As the tentacle fin squeezed the life out of the beast, the head began to rip the flesh away and devoured it. It was quite a fascinating sight, I thought to myself as we swam back to the colony, definitely a memory I will not forget, especially when I sail the open seas.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Archmage Grindill’s Lecture on Portals

AFS 129, August 20th

… a shuffling noise is heard accompanied by the grunts of an elderly man as he sets up a small tripod contraption in the back of the Broken Rabit Inn. This should come as a surprise of many due to the fact no one really saw him enter. The man is dressed in what looks to be heavy flowing robes shaded in deep blues, has a neatly trimmed beard, but wildly overgrown hair. Astute observers would notice the small name tag he wears which reads, “MagCon 129, Kinsley; Hello my name is Archmage Grindill” . After setting up the tripod he opens a small hand bag and pulls out a rather large sized billboard and puts it on the stand.

The sign reads:

The Magical Wonders of Portals.

Seminar starts in 5 minutes.

He then starts to pull out many small metal contraptions which he assembles into what eventually resembles a Bunsen burner with a pot on top. He rudely and seemingly carelessly ignores all questions or people in the tavern, seeming to be completely entranced in what he is doing. He seems to add a few ingredients to the pot and including some liquid from a small jug. All these items he pulls form his bag which can in no possible way hold all these items. After a few moments he pulls a small cup from his bag and then pours what many can recognize from smell as coffee from the pot.

After what is almost exactly five minutes from when he set up the sign he takes a sip from his coffee and seemingly enjoying it greatly, pulls a wand from his sleeve and taps it on the closest table. Upon doing so all the lights in the pub dims so that only a few lights around him are at full power. With a confidence and an authoritive teaching tone he begins his speech:

“A portal is ANY thing that can make an archway or portal. This includes, but is not limited to, doorways, arches, windows, rubble that has fallen over to make an archway of some sort, or pretty much anything that could be considered a fully encased opening you can fit through. Portals are not limited by their size however; a portal can appear in the largest known opening to a hoe the size of a pin prick. As long as it makes an area that is surrounded on all side but one can walk, crawl, or fit through it can be a portal. Portals do not appear out of thin air out in the middle of a field. They appear in the forms I just mentioned.”

The words from the sign fade and give way to a whimsical stick figure with arrows showing a man walking through a doorway and entering a different environment. The elderly scholar takes a sip from his slightly steaming cup, and then continues on.

“Okay, moving on: so to open a portal you need a port key or keys, and these can be anything. For example: a cup of cold coffee and something blue. It doesn’t matter if the person was trying to open it or not, if they have the keys on them it opens unless it is magically locked. Keys can also be none tangible things such as sadness or a child’s laughter.”

The pictures change to different scenarios where a person walks by a opening but nothing happens, than another walks through with a certain item that active the portal and they pop out in a different place.

“Port keys can be one time use; meaning they disappear or get ‘used’ once it works, or can be used infinite times. It all depends on the portal. Portals can also be set or random. This means that a known portal could lead anywhere at almost any given time, or it could always lead to the same place all the time. One time portals happen, but very rarely. Normally if you find a portal and it goes to place X, it will go back there again if all the stipulation of the portal opening back to that place is met.”

Once again the pictures change to help represent that some port keys get “used” while others do not. There is also an example where a figure has to wait for a certain time to open a portal.

“Portals also normally only stay open for a very short time after opening. One would say on average, ohhh, maybe 2 to 5 seconds or so. So be careful. Many portals also only allow a certain number of people through at a time. OH, and yes, when a portal opens up here it opens up there as well. SO be careful; sometimes things will come through this side you wish never did.”

He once again takes a lengthy pause as he sips from his cup again and mumbles to himself. While doing so the pictures change to show a group walking along and unknowingly opening a portal. While half the party makes it through the portal snaps shut leaving the other half behind. Another example shows a portal opening and people racing to make it through as the attempt to example a hideous monster. One doesn’t make it in time and meets a grisly demise. He straightens is robes in an aggravated way and looks back to the tavern populous and goes on.

“So, portals go anywhere. What about getting back? Getting back can require the same key or keys, that is if the portal is a two way portal… You can imagine the slight dangers in that. To quickly answer a few common questions: Yes, if you go through a portal from the other direction it could lead somewhere else. Yes if you close a double door it is now a different portal. Yes the possibilities are almost endless.”

The images go through almost countless examples of what seems to be endless possibilities to portals, their destinations, and how they can work. He thinks to himself for a moment, seeming to attempt to gather all his thoughts.

“Aw, yes, getting home. There are many known set portals in every Ward that lead back to different nation’s home cities. These portals have keys that are ‘a person of origin’. Meaning if you were born there you are the key. If you live somewhere that you were not born I suggest you find a buddy that has a key to travel back and forth because the portals only work for said person. These portals are two way portals for the most part, BUT, the key to get back is ‘a person from origin that has been during shut down’. Shut down is a time period that happens where these portals do not function. This occurs about once a month and lasts for two to three days on average. We experienced one of these not too long ago. This means new random people tend to not randomly pop in. Other than those portals almost every other portal requires a key of some sort. If you got here without being here before via portal you had or have a key on you. That is an irrefutable fact.”

The pictures change to people going up to portals and walking through to what one would assume to be there home land and being happy and joyous.

“If you have any more questions your Charter group can answer any and all your questions, for the most part.”

With that his image along with all other things he brought in starts to distort slightly and fade from sight. The sign is the last thing to fade in which it reads: “This message has been brought to you by the Guild of Paranormal Mysticism.” And as it finally fades from sight the lights raise back to normal level and it was if he was never there.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Experiments

A gnoll is tied to a chair, beaten and bruised, from the looks of it he looks to be from the Namib clan. The room is barren, void of anything but solid walls and a small window near the ceiling to vent out the stench. The Brown Gnoll sat in silence, seemingly waiting for what was to happen next. Through a plate of small glass a woman in a lab coat stood taking notations of the subject’s behavior.

The Namib have always proven to be such interesting creatures. They have a very high tolerance for pain and from the looks of it, they could probably dish out worse than what they can take. These creatures, opposed to their kin, take on a lot of self-pity and self-sacrifice as if they were to prove something to someone– the powers, their matron, who knows? They scar their body in different ways and layer the scars with tattoos, some sort of custom they practice. It makes little to no sense, but when does a gnoll ever do anything that makes sense?

The woman motions to the shadowed figure around the corner and the metal door slides open and another gnoll is thrown inside with the first. The heavy door slides shut behind the stripped gnoll as a small vent opens and four catadillo scurry into the room.

Test G43N proved that these two clans do not like each other. The Namib prove to be very loyal and passive while the Dhubba prove to be more cunning than his brother. On the other hand when they are trapped within confines the Namib will do anything to be released from his bindings to attempt to kill the Striped Gnoll. It was a nightmarish scene to behold; the rapid and quick movements were unpredictable. The mess afterwards took three men six hours to clean.

The scientist looks up from her notes, pushing her lenses further up her nose and a look of confusion overtakes her. The Striped had helped the Brown out of his bindings and they stood together, back to back, defending one another until the battle was complete. They stood in silence, waiting.

What is the meaning of this?! They fight together, yet they fight with each other on a whim? I do not understand! I suppose it is something no one but a gnoll could understand. Family and cultures come with priorities over what one hates or dislikes. Maybe there is something more to these creatures than I previously thought. Perhaps I’ll throw another loop in the mess to see what happens.

It seems as though the “loop” that I had intended on throwing into the mix was a bit much. I decided to go ahead and capture a spotted gnoll to toss in to see how the three interact with each other. To my surprise, it seems as though the other two put aside their differences to defend the spotted gnoll at all costs. I wonder what the meaning of this is…

Without these beasts roaming around Kanada and other surrounding countries, I wonder what would become of the ecosystem. Or if there wouldn’t be an affect at all. Perhaps with some more studies I can conceive the ideal of a perfect environment for them. I have been contemplating lately of those other races that are beast-like in nature and thought of creating experiments for them as well, not only for my benefit, but for their own. Why would they want to live in a world, such as ours, a human dominated world? Don’t they feel trumped? A hard world out there for such hard creatures… What would our children think if they saw these animals out on the street bleeding, dying, begging for mercy, demanding things or killing each other? They would become hardened, and we cannot have that breeding into our society. We must protect those who will become our next generation to create a better life, a better society, a better world.

I am trying to get approval to get the go-ahead to take residency within the island. This will prove to be useful for the experiments and their surroundings. G43N was a success; G44N was as well, but what about G44N-Isl? That would be entertaining to watch. I will have to try to push for this as soon as possible so that we can begin on these new studies.

It seems as though there were some unexpected delays in our experiments due to personal reasoning. There was some issues with the laboratory and those other present because they find these findings to be be unethical. I, on the other hand, believe that these things are necessary if we are to fight and defend ourselves from these creatures. They are being held in the same standards as us, we should have a right to know how their madness works!

Why, with a single bite… well… never you mind that. I need to further investigate the on-goings of an acquaintance since they seemed to have caused some issues in our world. Never mind the fact that she was plotting to destroy everything I have worked so hard to accomplish!

I’ll get to the bottom of this…

There had been some personal issues I needed to tend to as of late, so my progress in reports and studies have been lack. I still have a couple of things to do, but in time, I’ll learn to balance it all.

Just as I have in the past, so please don’t be detered by this new information.

I have recently requested for new test subjects and my thoughts on my progression are leading towards larger breeds. I may be interested in lizard folk, as their anatomy astounds me.

Case studies are to follow once the new specimen arrive.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Tale of a Queen

When I was little, my mother left to do what few people do: save the world. I never knew my father. Mom always said he was a kind and brave man. He was the new breed of humans from New Zeal. She would cry tears of joy when she would talk about his boldness, his devilishly good looks, and unwavering faithfulness to her. It is odd, looking back, that my mother would cry. She was never the type. People have told me she was one of the most influential women of her time. I hear stories about her bravery, about her near death encounters and how she would laugh at them. About how no matter how crazy her plan was it always worked. But never about how she would cry.

I remember the stories she would tell me, when I was little, to put me to bed; tales of adventure and excitement. She would craft images of lands so exotic it was almost impossible to believe, and creatures so fierce it seemed nearly improbable for them to exist. Most of the time I would only get wound up and not fall to sleep at all. It would always make her get stern with me, but I know she was only playing and trying to be a good mom. She would remind me so much about how much she loved me. My mother was always so strong and so loving.

In our world, everyone seems to think they have a purpose. Everyone like us is striving to be more than they can be. We are nothing but a handful off exceptions that, when you think about it, are not really the exception; we are just striving to be. Most people say they are going to save the world, but what they do matters almost for not in the grand scheme of things. The over exaggerations and eccentric thoughts of most always makes us believe we are on a mission. But in truth, the only mission we are on is to prove ourselves to ourselves. So, when I say my mother left to do what few people do, believe me when I say she actually left to do what she said she would. I never saw my mother again, and the world did not end that year as it should have.

I was seven the night my mother left. In the care of some of her closest friends I was left. Not that I am mad at her for that. When she left, my two aunts went with her. Mom was the middle child of the three, which meant she was the glue of the family. At least that’s what she would always say. It’s hard for me to recall them. I know one was very tough and had red hair. The other was often quiet, but always so sweet. She had two children. I know that. Twins, one boy and one girl. They were just a bit older than me, and after that night I never saw Providence again, I know she did well for herself. That I checked in on. However, I did bump into Holy one more time in his life after that night.

I grew up on the deck of a ship, and when I wasn’t there I was in a temple of Vox. Funny how things work out over time. The women mom left me with were a motley crew, but they were the best anyone could ask for. Most would say I was robbed of my childhood, but I think I am still in it at times. By the time I was a teenager I could handle almost any vessel, and I made sure to get all life had to offer.

I was born over two centuries ago. My mother and father were human, just like their mother and father was. As much as she would probably scold me for following in her footstep, I too do my fair share of saving the world. At least, that’s how I view it. I have looked death in the eye and laughed. I have seen the world, inside and out. I have been to stars beyond our own, held a one on one personal conversation with more than one of your “powers” , seen the past with my own eye and I know where this world is heading.

When I was in my late teens I separated from my surrogate family for a test of myself. I set out to venture the world and make sure I could survive. They did leave me with a few of my mother’s possessions. Among them were the family sword and a map to nothing. Most people would have explored the map more, I know, but I felt it needed to wait till a later date. I did what I was raised to do, and I did it quite well: I took what I wanted.

I remember my first real trip to the Capital city of Revrent. The walls seemed to stand so tall. Built around a mountain of black lava frozen in time, the gleaming white walls of the main keep would call out to all as you approached the grand city. I highly recommend visiting if you ever get the chance. Spiraling roads that always seeming to climb upward surround the citadel and I will say that they do have one of the most formable defenses I have seen in my years. Of course, what I was doing was much smaller scale for what they had in mind. So it was impressive, and that’s about it.

Then, gaining entry into the castle was relatively easy if you were female. I hear that’s changed a little since then. None-the-less, the information I gained about the lay out and location of items within the keep was spot on and well worth the price I paid for it. ‘Course, the problem didn’t lay in getting the Royal jewels, as most will tell you, it was getting out with them. And for this I had three plans of operation laid out depending on the situation.

I will stop here to lay down a little guidance for anyone new to the field or so far just getting by by luck: always plan for the worse. If you have three well laid out plans, make sure you have a fourth for when the shit hits the fan. Because all you’re planning, all your hard work, and all your time is really just wasted in the end. Personally, I say just do the damn thing and talk about it later and embellish how you “had” plans to begin with but in the truth you just flew by the seat of your pants.

So there I was with my pretties. In the main hall of Castle Revrent surrounded by what was at the time the beginning of the Raven Special Forces and the prince himself, which if you are not aware was a damn good fighter. I never liked show-offs with the quarterstaff after that brawl. Lastly, in the group of death about to jump me was the Palace’s priest of Trom, I think. Regardless that bastard found it in his duty to follow me to his death.

Now when you use explosives the first time it sort of takes you by surprise. I mean, you know it is going to be loud, you know it is going to be all devastation, but you never really prep yourself for the blast unless you have seen them before. I recommend, before having your fourth back up plan be “blow a hole in the side of the castle”, that you test the plan first to make sure you are not caught in a daze as you continue forth. I also recommend when you jump through a newly made hole in the side of a castle that lies on top of a very tall mountain that you make sure that it is not a wall that sides a cliff that is nearly a mile deep.

It’s hard to tell that time slows down as you free fall. It’s nothing like most would imagine. The sound of the wind alone rushing by is louder than your screams. That is if you are screaming, not that I was. In the majesty of a death-defying fall it was almost unbelievable what you think of. I thought of my mother. How I missed her. How I wondered if she would be proud. I thought of that prince, and how he had defiantly caught my eye. Its then that the sick realities of life catch-up with you. Like the Trom priest that found it in his best interest to jump out after me. What was he thinking?

Who in their right mind would jump out of a hole in the side of a castle that sat atop a mountain side over five thousand feet high? I mean, yea, I did… but I had a ring that magically slowed your descent at the point of impact to always have a safe landing. Hello, have a plan. He, however, didn’t. That was the first time I had gotten someone else’s blood on me. It wouldn’t be my last. Coincidently, I also got blamed for that death, and I had nothing to do with it other than making the hole. Funny thing, I never recalled them ever yelling about the hole. Theft of the Royal Jewels, check; assault on a member of the Royal Family, check; murder of a member of the Order of Trom, wrongfully check; but never destruction of Kingdom property… explain that one to me.

Youth, understanding it will never be fully comprehended by those who have it. My escape from the grounds was roughly well planned out. I was on the opposite side of the castle that I planned to be on, but things happen. Needless to say I had to steer clear of Revrent for a bit. But if I hadn’t I would have had the chance to spend a small time in the Gates. And if I would have never visited the Gates I would have never been swept up by the tales of the ancient oddities lost now found: the flying ships.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Goblin Invasion?

Goblin Invasion? Archived May 5th, AFS 088

Goblins en masse have been sighted outside Barbaroy. While the goblins do not appear hostile, they could be a threat none the less. Our economy and our resources cannot support this many immigrants.
Thousands of goblins are approaching the eastern borders of Barbaroy. Over fifty percent of the population is presumed to be females and children. Not much is known about the intentions of this massive amount of goblins, but rumor has it they are carrying all of their belongings.
Normally, Barbaroy would not close its borders to any immigrants in need of a new home, but this throng will eat us out of house and home. A petition has been drawn up and is being passed around the populous to encourage the government to step in and do something. Maybe they Barbaroy can offer them rations and supplies at the borders to the swamp to assist those in need, as well as encourage them to not continue their journey into the cities and towns. Use of force is not ultimately necessary, however should be used to detour the advancement.
If nothing is done to stop this movement, it will not only be their children and females looking for a place to sleep and eat, but our own.

Geoffrey Thompson
Senior Editor, Barboroy Herald

The Goblins Are Here archived June 14th, AFS 088

Despite any encouraging the government could do, the goblins have scattered and populated the cities and towns of Barbaroy. Many of the larger settlements within Barbaroy have been affected; however there does not seem to be a great struggle for competition of survival.
The goblins entered into Barbaroy and spread throughout the country, leaving the countryside and smaller villages to the natives, they chose to inhabit the outskirts and slums of the cities and towns, particularly in the junkyards. While at first, the presumption was they would take over the cities with their populations, they kept to themselves, and made do with what they had. Many reports have come back that the goblins are utilizing the debris and trash of the cities to construct jury rigged shelters and habitations in the less pleasing areas of major cities.
The majority of the locals do not seem to mind this incursion as it has decreased crime within the slums of the cities and allowed the authorities to gather the so called â€œratsâ€ as the scatter into the light. Many of the prostitutes, thieves, murderers, and such that have remained in hiding have been flushed out of their homes and promptly arrested. One local sheriff reported that his prison is overflowing due to this relocation.
Where the appearance of the goblins homes is not an attractive sight, the locals have voiced that they appreciate the goblins handling the garbage industry. The goblins have displayed skills in the engineering field that surpasses some of our best, and are offering their services in the field of repair and refurbishing. Many of the lead Barbaroy engineers have headed to the slums to see what techniques they can learn from these adepts.
This coexistence can be a success after all. I am glad that Barbaroy was able to assist these lost souls, and sincerely apologize for my earlier comments.

Geoffrey Thompson
Senior Editor, Barboroy Herald

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

The Funny Thing about Portals…

“How did you get here without any of my militia noticing you?” The blue elven girl stares up at the taller figures shadowing her in the bright midday’s light. “Well? State your case, child.”

She swallowed hard and caught her breath before beginning, “It was a typical day of bathing in the sun for a while to warm myself only to dive back into the lake to get a breath of fresh air. I swam around a while when I saw something glint in the sun light in my peripheral. Out of curiosity I decided to investigate. If it were something of worth I could always take it back to town to barter before I had to go back to my home for my usual meetings.

Some of the members of my crew were getting impatient and wanted things to move along quicker than had been planned. It seems as though the people of this supposed “hero town” are too dense to realize what was actually going on around them. Regardless, things were still moving as planned and that is all that matters.

Back to the glittery mass in the sand, as I picked it up and swam a little bit I noticed it had some strange writing on it. Catching my interest as I flipped it over to get a thorough examination a bright light surrounded me and time seemed to stop for a moment. All sound was deafened for only but a moment. It seems as though I fell through a portal of some sort and landed roughly on my backside. I glanced around to take note that I was on this island, thank goodness I was near water. Without it, I was surely a goner.

I dove into the cold water to try to get my bearings. It took a breath or two for my body to realize that it was alive. I had no idea where I was, the shiney object was gone and I felt a slight tingling to my skin– the same feeling I always have when I portal jump. What was I supposed to do but to explore around when I felt a little better to find out how to get back? The island looks like any other typical tropic area and if I had my map I might have some sort of idea where I was.”

One soldier looks to the other and looking back to the small elven figure, “What are you?” Taken aback by what was an odd question to her, “Wait, what? Here you are telling me that I am no longer on my own world? You honestly don’t know what I am? And I’m supposed to believe you? I mean, planar traveling is no big deal where I come from, but this isn’t some joke? It takes longer than a mere few seconds and a ritual to get anywhere outside of my plane… I can’t remember how to get home or how to do anything I could earlier today. And it seems as though your magical energies aren’t like what I know anyway. So, what do you suggest I do about this?”

Stern looks cross both their faces as they take up arms, “You are going to have to come with us, ma’am.”

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

The Views of a Kanadian Elven Woman

I always wondered what it was like to be of my race. A very strange thing to say about oneself, but it just seems as though I am wearing someone else’s skin. Most of us have been killed or bred out and it seems as though we had our own culture at one point or another. Why else would everyone have ill feelings towards us?

Fair skin, pointed ears, almond eyesâ; we all look the same. But it is as though we were all raised by others. We don’t have the same opinions, metaphors, beliefs and taste in food/clothing/entertainment or even virtues. We are one yet all different peoples. Is this how it is for every race of the world? I didn’t put much thought to it until I was left out of several events. The ball, for one, was an event I was looking forward to all year round. It happens during the winter solstice and I was hand-making my gown. I suppose everyone assumed I was a seamstress for a well off noble or something of the sort, because when I awaited my invitation in the mail it never came. Heart broken and infuriated the only thing I could think of when I gazed upon my lovely gown of gems and silk was hatred. When I asked my neighbors if they received theirs, they passed it off as if the mail was just delayed for me. But the look in their eyes told me differently. They knew that I wasn’t to be invited.

You would figure that a nation such as Kanada wouldn’t condone such behavior, but it seems as though I stand corrected. They prance around in their fancy clothing and treat everyone as though they sit in ranks of a militia. The higher the rank, the more privy you are to events and the like. The lower, the less you know. How ignorant! To think that I stand up for a nation I love and believe in so much as to let them treat me as if I were worth nothing. I see how they look at me, jealousy crossing their eyes like a mutt watching a family eating dinner in their nice warm home on a rainy day. Longing and envy.

What was it that made my people become this way? Was it about all of this? Was this hatred, jealousy, envy run through everyones’ blood but our own? Why are we so ignorant to the old ways? To just throw away the past as if it didn’t exist and pick up somewhere new; to relearn what we knew from birth and pass on new traditions to our children! how sickening.

I wonder if there are others out there wondering the same things as I am. Or if I am in a world of my own, daydreaming of impossible things.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

Accounts of Those that Reside in Darken Wood

It was much like any other evening, damp with humidity from the summer night, the echoed calls of wild beasts that live within the forest, and the moonlight that attempted to break through the tree branches casting down shadows on everything like a blanket of darkness. Why was I awake at such an hour? That was an easy enough question to answer. The witching hour was a perfect time to hunt. There was nothing else like the thrill of dancing through the night’s dangers to get blood pumping. When hearing the heart beat in your ears and feel the body’s warmth with the excitement of a chase, knowing that this is what it is truly to feel alive.

The pigmys were fearsome little creatures. They were quicker that catadillos and had a fierceness about them that would take anyone aback at first glance. They were fair game but don’t provide enough sustenance for the work to get just one. I like the sound the hawksray makes in the night. A bellowing shriek that makes the common mans’ skin crawl. A noise that cannot be reproduced; although, the closest thing I could come by the make a similar noise would be a mixture of claws against a chalkboard and scratching on a record. They are enormous beasts that can grab and fly off with anyone or anything up to the size of a water buffalo or a gren, which ever is bigger is debatable.

My people are of a peaceful nature, according to our family lifestyle. In other nations we are considered war-like and aggressive. When put into our situation, it only comes natural to defend what we have and survive in any means necessary. Threats from every which angle are evident in everyday life, not only from the predators that live off of the land and the things on it, but also from the other tribes on top of the scavengers. Scavengers are what we, feline, refer to those others who live here; not only humans but elves and other races that are running from one thing or another. The Scavengers hop around like they have bugs in their clothing, wound up like a tight spring and explode at any moment over the smallest things. It doesn’t surprise me when I come across one half eaten by something that they came across in the woods. They don’t seem to know what they are doing half the time, when it comes to battle. Maybe, some day, they will figure it out.

Until that time comes, I will go at my own pace and enjoy the challenges that await me. There are still things to discover and new journeys to take within Darken Wood before I feel as though I need to wander out of these lands and go exploring elsewhere.

February 22, 2021February 22, 2021

A Journal from the Past…

A blood stained and nearly illegible journal was found and released to the public; what little could be read says as followed.

I sit here writing, what I can only imagine to be my last entry, and I look out upon the undercity and I can see them moving, the shadows, all the other clans coming together to fight back that which we have brought upon them. Eberk, practically driving them all into slavery! We are all kin here; we should not be fighting!

Barely able to see I continue to write this in the Lower dungeons of Eberk Hall. I was once the greatest advisor to the king, second to only the prince. When the king went mad with power I advised him to rethink his actions, see that the clans were equal, we were not better than any other clan, and here I sit, alone, starved! dying!

..The walls just shook, the assault has begun. I can hear the cries of battle to Goddamas and Utili. I can hear steel upon steel, hammer against axe. How long can this last. How long will it take for him to see that we are only killing each other; we are killing family.

It has been 3 weeks now and the sounds of battle still ring as loudly as they did when the first rubble fell upon my beard. How much more blood will be spilled before peace is found. I find myself praying more often, not for myself, but for those of my kin!

The fighting has stopped; I wonder what I am to say if “we” have “won” or if I will be found. Will I be executed due to my clan name, or will I be spared for the cruelty that I have already endeavored. I can only hope that I will be shown peace, I ask Utili to please give me one last chance, so that I may make– (the rest of the entry is torn away and this is all that was legible)