iratesquatch

[iratesquatch]

Lil Darling

the goodest boy

“Dude. What the fuck.”

Lulu lifted his head to regard his master, a torn pant leg draped across one of his horns, and a ruined pair of panties stretched over his snout.

Myrna shrugged her way out of her armored coat and set about removing her gear, too tired to even begin dealing with that. Her revolver flashed crimson as she tossed it on a chair. The young war beast pulled himself to a crouch, the small nubbins of his secondary arms waggling excitedly at his mom.

“Yes, darling,” she reassured as she popped the tab of something alcoholic before collapsing onto a half torn couch, aiming her butt for one of the few parts of it that still had stuffing. She closed her eyes and sighed, until she felt something nudging her leg. She cracked open her synthetic eye and glanced down. Lulu was giving her the best puppy dog eyes he could manage. Which was impressive, considering how just how unnerving they were.

She groaned and moved her arms out of her lap and sunk a little deeper into the couch. Lulu let out a happy chirp as he clambered up onto her, stretching his lanky form across her lap, all four eyes closed happily, a light rumbling sound coming from deep in his chest. Myrna sighed again, rested a hand on his head, which earned another chirp, slightly muffled through her underwear, and took another swig of her beer.

“Man, fuck you.”

[iratesquatch]

The Reptilian

aint that a bitch?

Cat hummed quietly along with the music in her ears, chin in hand as she stared out the bus window. It loped along at a safe distance from the vehicle, its hidden hide ensuring that it wouldn’t be noticed. After all these years, it still sent a chill down her spine. her own unwanted guardian angel.

As the bus squealed to a halt, butterflies mixed in her stomach. Out of this metal box, there would be one less layer of protection between her and it. She dragged her feet up the aisle, eyes scanning the horizon. When it wasn’t moving, it was almost impossible to see, even to her. Catharsis dropped off the last step, still wary of it.

As she made her way home, it made its way to the back of her mind. Other, more mundane concerns pressed their way into her mind. Mostly, she was excited to talk to her father again tonight. He worked as a deep space miner, and due to restrictions was only allowed a call every few months.

The young woman wound her way through the suburbs of her neighborhood, shoes scraping the concrete and skirt rustling as she made her way home. The afternoon sun was hot on the back of her neck, and the expansive green lawns disappeared into fences and the wide alleys between the oversized houses. She passed a few people gardening, or playing with pets or kids, and Cat made sure to return their greetings and pleasantries. Soon enough, she stepped up onto her own porch, pulled her pack from her shoulders and called a greeting to her mother. Outside, it settled itself into its usual spot, synthetic eyes trained on Cat’s window.

That night, after a great meal and a night spent chatting with her father, Catharsis settled into her room. She turned off the light, and before she laid down, opened the blinds just a little. Barely visible through the gloom and distance, she could make out four green pinpricks, just where they always were. Unreassured, she crawled into bed and tried to find sleep.

[iratesquatch]

A Glorious Death

So a tiefling and tabaxi walk into a field of dead people...

Tsindal and Rha’jin stood, surveying the carnage below.

“That,” the paladin started. “That’s a lot of goddamn bodies. The fuck happened here?”

Rha’jin said nothing, her diminutive frame descending the hill and into the field.Tsindal called after her, but the feline’s only reaction was to pull her hood from her head, ears flicking for any sound, any sign of life in the valley of bodies. The tiefling paladin sighed and jogged to catch up, unwilling to let the small tabaxi be alone in the possibly dangerous situation.

In the center was a large tree, with yet another body propped against it. This one was much larger, though. A dragonborn, from the look of him, unlike the orc horde that lay scattered about. He was drenched in blood, both his own and that of the dead, his massive ax propped against him.

Rha’jin’s ears swiveled forwards at the man. He wasn’t moving, but he lacked the stiffness of a corpse. She carefully picked her way towards him, Tsindal griping and following. The cat crouched by the dragonborn. He did not feel warm.

“You want me to fix him, Rhaj? I don’t think he’s quite dead yet.”

“Not yet,” she replied with a small voice, hands beginning to rifle through the dying man’s pockets. There wasn’t much, the only item of real note being a small journal. Pen and paper, the idea brought a smile to the tabaxi’s face. Quant.

She opened it up, hoping to glean some kind of idea as to who this was. Instead, the first page was full of childish scribbling. Her brow furrowed as she quickly flipped through the pages, scanning for text. No written words, only page after page of drawings and scribbling greeted her. She noted that by the last entry, though it was still impossible to tell what the drawings were, there was marked improvement. She carefully tucked it back into the pocket she had taken it from.

“Alright, do it.”

Tsindal gave the huge man a weary glance, then Rha’jin the same, before removing a gauntlet, stepping forward, and placing a hand to his bloodstained chest. A soft glow filled the air as her magic poured life back into his body. When she was finished he was breathing again, massive chest rising and falling slowly as he regained consciousness. The paladin pressed a button on her collar, and a hiss sounded as her helmet snapped into place. She drew her sword and deployed her shield, ready for the dragonborn to lunge. Rha’jin didn’t move from her crouched position by his side.

He let out a low groan as his eyes fluttered open. He squinted for a moment, recovering, before slowly surveying the scene around him, seeming confused. Finally, after nearly a minute, a grin split his fanged face, and he closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree.

“Can’t even die right, heh.” He coughed up a lungful of blood and spat it to the side, not bothering to wipe the dribble from his chin. “You guys fix me?” His voice was gravely and uncouth, unrefined and used to being loud. Rha’jin squinted at him.

“Yeah, we did. You got a name, stranger?” Tsindal’s voice was harsh from behind her visor.

“Nah,” he replied, turning to face the adorable cat besides him. “You?”

Before the hotheaded paladin could reply, her roguish companion cut her off. “Rha’jin, Tsindal.” Her hand went from her chest to lazily indicating the tiefling. “You want one?”

“What, a name? I don’t need one anymore.”

“Why is that?”

Tsindal groaned and wandered off to see if any of the corpses had any booze to loot.

“I dunno. Haven’t needed one since I left.”

“Where do you come from? What did you do?”

The barbaric dragon-man sat up a little straighter against the tree, eyeing the small feline wearily. Her cute face stared at him earnestly.

“I was a gladiator.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“They destroyed my home.”

“Who’s they?”

He snorted in annoyance, a weak jet of flame shooting from his nose, accompanied by a trickle of blood. Distantly, Tsindal was cursing.

“Dunno, but they burned my home and killed most of the people. I think Absclos, my old owner, got out though.”

“So why do you still fight?”

He looked down at that, and started picking at the half-healed wounds on his chest until they were bleeding again.

“Dunno.”

“Why were you a gladiator, then?”

“Cause that’s what Absclos told me to do.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was good at it.”

“Is that why you fight? Why you killed all these orcs? because you’re good at it?”

“Absclos always said that if I could only die gloriously.”

“So you were trying to die?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not really much else for me to do.”

“Tell you what. If you want, I’ll give you a name and a reason to have it.”

“What’s that?”

“Come help me and my partner. We could use someone like you.” She paused to look again at the destruction her new friend had wrought. “Maybe you’ll find your good death, maybe you’ll find you don’t need one. What do you say?” Glass shattered and Tsindal yelled in rage at finding another bottle that wasn’t filled with alcohol.

“What’s the name?”

Rha’jin smiled wide and stood. He was almost as tall sitting as she was standing. She held out a paw for him.

“Glorylacker.”

[iratesquatch]

Dog and Moose

there goes my heros, watch them eat shit and get wasted, literally

“Hey, dumbass, quit sniffin’ your own ass an’ get goin’.”

The feline alien landed with a soft squish on the hard-packed dirt of the path, hirs companion trotting over, panting in the midday heat. Moose easily jumped up onto his back, perching between the creature’s four pairs of shoulders. Not the smoothest area to ride on, but certainly the least likely to buck hir off. Dog began to canter down the forest path, Moose’s many trinkets chiming gaily, twinkling in the dappled light drifting through the canopy.

“You tink de’ll ‘ave fish? Ah could use some fish.” Where sie had gotten hirs cajun accent was beyond anyone, least of all Dog (who had a rousing intelligence score of 4). He whined, a sound between glass shattering and rain on metal. Moose winced at the noise. “Ah tol’ you tae quite dat! ‘Urts my head.” The alien wizard rubbed ruefully at hirs space-filled ears. Dog picked up the pace, his motions rocking his passenger. Sie let out a strangled noise as sie hunkered down, intent not to be thrown off this time. The pair hurtled down the path, towards the next, hopefully more accepting than the last, town.

[iratesquatch]

Roll Them Sleeves

cause sometimes thats what you gotta do

The warrior fell to his knees in the gore soaked mud, the rain beginning its incessant splattering onto his armor. He fell backwards, catching himself on his elbows, watching the water splash on his visor. Blood ran in the rain, pooling in the grooves and crevices of his armor where the plates met and creased. Around him lay the broken, scattered bodies of the fallen, and he couldn’t separate the view in front of him from his memories. He didn’t react as he felt someone scramble onto his chest and gently tug his helmet from his head, ears twitching idly as the rain impacted them with a thin drizzle.

“Hey, it’s alright, Bea. It’s time to calm down and come home.” Vladlena ran her small hands through the short fur on his muzzle affectionately, trying to coax life back into her friend. “Y’did it. You won, like always. Y’don’t gotta be mad anymore, you did it.” She butted her scaled forehead into his nose, feeling his warm, heavy breath wash over her. She watched as a depthless weariness filled his eyes, making them seem more empty than before. He pushed his cheek into her palm.

“I’m tired, Nish,” he said, rumbling voice catching in his throat. Her expression softened, unsure what he meant. The rain was running off his sleek, grey fur.

“I know, buddy, that was a hell of a show. But at least you’ll get a couple more scars to show off!” She glanced down at his abdomen, noting that the blood there wasn’t clotting yet. The hole in his arm seemed alright, at least. She rested her palm against his bleeding injury and sang a short shanty, a soft flash signaling that the magic had healed him a bit. When she removed her hand the hole was still there, but it was no longer bleeding. She sighed as she turned back to her sorrowful companion. “Hey, Bea, what’s got you so down? You’re usually excited after a fight. You’re kinda freaking me out, lunk.” She reclined on his chest piece, leaning back on her short, thick tail, arms folded across her chest.

He shook his head, the water scattering slightly from his hydrophobic fur. “I’m just tired. This place doesn’t like me, or where I come from. Everyone’s just scared of me.”

She shrugged at him. “You’re a Shea-err, Valiant, Bea. You’re scary. And not everyone’s afraid of you.” She rapped her knuckles against his armor, eyes glittering with mischief.

He sighed and let himself fall the rest of the way, his dorsal fin digging uncomfortably into the mud. Nishimura yipped as she rolled off of him, ending up sprawled in the mud. She glared daggers at him. “What the fuck, dude?”

He stared at the darkened sky listlessly. “I didn’t want to look anymore.” Her brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out his game. Eventually she sighed and rolled onto her back, her head lightly pressing against his, wallowing in the mud with her lover. The rain was in force now.

“You need to get your shit together, Bea.”

[iratesquatch]

My Bleeding, Screeching, Metal Heart

B. stands for The Big Fuck, this one doesn't actually take place in the same universe as the others. this one comes from a cyberpunk game

“Alright, everyone got their parts down?”

Without waiting for an answer, faithful in his family’s competency, Bron walked to the open bay doors of the Tough Ghost. With a button press his helmet snapped shut around his head, which started his mechanical mistress rumbling, her engines belching black smoke as she rose to a crouch in the cramped cargo bay. She began shuffling her way forwards, careful not to squish anyone in the cramped space. He spun on a heel to face the company, raised his arms out to the side, and tipped backwards, out of the ship.

“Showoff…” Rakelka rolled her eyes at her father’s antics before shuffling off to prep her own machine for the coming battle. The robot reached the edge and pitched forwards, diving after her pilot.

“How we lookin’ today, B.?” He practically had to scream, even inside his helmet, over the tearing winds on this planet.

<CLEAR SKIES AND A LOTTA DEAD SONSA BITCHES> she replied, and he found himself smiling at her impersonation of him. Even if it was all wrong, aside from the words, and he was pretty sure she had just lifted that quote from audio logs. He spread himself wide to slow his falling, allowing B. to catch up. Soon, he was level with her chest, and she opened the cockpit. He angled himself to fall inside, pulling his machine gun from his back as he did. He settled himself inside, and she folded the doors shut around him, his gun settling itself between his legs in the cramped space. He buckled himself into the seat, which held him tightly but left him half standing. He flipped a few switches above his head, and the console in front of him flicked to life, flashing a readout at him that he didn’t bother to read.

“Anything I should know about, B.? All systems good for firefight?”

<OPERATIONAL CONTROL TRANSFERRING TO CAPTAIN JACKS. WELCOME ABOARD. NO ABNORMALITIES DETECTED. TWO MINUTES TO IMPACT>

He leaned back in his chair, rolled his shoulders, and went over the plan one last time in his head.

He and B. drop from orbit, rile up the hornet’s nest, get all the hostiles pissed. The rest of Raven’s eye come in from above and behind, finish off the rest before they can get away. From there, resistance inside the compound should be minimal. Easy peasy.

Bron clenched against a particularly violent shudder from his mech. “B., you take weapons systems, I’ll take body control: maximum. And give me the layout of the terrain on monitor six.”

<UNDERSTOOD>

He flipped a few more switches and took the joysticks in his hands, giving them each a test wiggle, feeling heft. “30% more resistance on the left joystick, B., c’mon. I gotta tell you this every time?”

<TWENTY-THREE SECONDS> was her only reply.

He huffed and hauled on the sticks, pulling them out of the dive, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ears. “Remember, babe, no missiles. Guns and cannons only. We just want to scare them.”

<FLAMETHROWER?>

“If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me.”

<PLEASE SAY NO, BRON>

“Very funny, bitch.”

<FIVE SECONDS>

He clenched his teeth so he didn’t bite his tongue off in the landing and prepared to rain hell.

[iratesquatch]

Void Light Black

the perks of being the last man standing

Sloan Hawkhurst sat curled in the pilot’s seat of her darkened ship, blankets and jackets piled high in her lap. In her hands she cupped a large mug of a dark, steaming liquid. She stared idly out the viewport, musing on the planet she could see looming in the distance. She ran a shivering, double gloved hand over the dusty console, fingers playing across the dead switches and lights. ‘The Drunken Mermaid,’ she thought to herself. ‘That’ll be a fine name for my next ship.’ She didn’t waste the energy on actually saying the words aloud.

Scattered around the cockpit was what remained of her crew, their corpses looted of the clothes to keep the remaining, living occupant warm. At least the cold was keeping them from getting too ripe. Her ship was a big one, and at its peak there had been near a hundred people in her imploy. Now it drifted lifelessly through empty space, engines dead, like most of its remaining occupants. Most of her crew had left her to join with the pirates who had left her in this diboccal. At least the dead didn’t eat much, or breathe any air. Near on a month of drifting, and she still had a plenty of food and air. Perks of a being the last of a big ship and crew.

She sipped at her brew, a ghastly concoction of what remained in the kitchen, but at least the chemicals in it were reacting, keeping the liquid warm. Sloan really hoped the planet was occupied, or at least was habitable. With her ship disabled, she had no way of figuring which planet this was, or what was there. She was close enough now to see that it had some small debris caught in its orbit, glinting in the sun’s light. So there was that.

She adjusted her legs under her, aching hands gripping her mug close. Her ship would probably survive reentry, and if it did she probably would too. Her old girl was a tough one, and she was nearly as tough. She sipped her drink again nervously, wincing at the taste, eyes fixed on the slowly enlarging object in her view.

Probably. Sloan Hawkhurst had never needed anything more than probably.

[iratesquatch]

A Lesson in Overconfidence

“Oof, and another killer shot from Vambrace’s Lament, that’s gonna leave a mark.”

“You said it Henry, the Runners sure gotta be sweating now that half of them are out of the game.”

The playing field stretched out from below the two announcers, the occasional flash of red light marking a shot from the Hunter team. Henry leaned forward, squinting at the field, trying to see the Runners.

“Alright, we just lost Eldren. Who’s got the baton?” Brody expertly wove his way between two of the boulders before they crashed together.

“I do,” replied Fin from over the comms as she began working her way towards Brody, eyes weary for the sight of a mech.

“You want to pass it off? I think Cuirass already has your name on his rifle.” The interjection came from Kusht, who was sounding rather out of breath.

“You sure about that, man?” Perk asked. “Gauntlet and Pauldron were hammering you pretty hard there a second ago. Might want to take a sec”

[GG: Vambrace, how’s your ammo reserve looking? You’ve already dropped three of them and you sure laid hell to get that last one.]

[VL: Yeah, I’m running low. Going to push farther down field and see if I can’t get eye’s on.]

[CE: Gauntlet, you take 120°, Pauldron 240°. I’ll hit 0°. Try and keep ahead of them, They’re already over halfway.]

[PP: Yeah, but they’re more than half gone.]

The crowd roared with excitement as another one of the Runners, Kusht, was taken out of play.

“Jesus Christ X’syllander, I don’t know how much longer these guys are going to be able to last against these Hunters. I swear, we need a mercy rule…”

“And another great shot from the Hunters! Won’t be long now until we’re done here.”

“Brody, man, what’s the plan here?”

“Damn, pass me the baton.” The two changed courses, the lithe tabaxi handing off the objective before skating off to a safe distance, willing to let the team captain steal the spotlight for a bit. “Shifty, be ready.” A few bolts of red flashed by. They wanted him bad. He grinned under his helmet. Perk was bumbling along, careful to keep the asteroids between him and the shots, moving at a comparative snail’s pace. Brody dropped the baton as he raced by, weaving between obstacles and shots alike. Perk fumbled with the black bar, clutching it in one hand as he picked up the pace.

[CE: Anyone got eyes on that baton?]

[VL: I think the captain has it, but he might have passed it off to the firbolg on that last pass. Hard to tell.]

[PP: No, I’m pretty sure he's still got it.]

Brody smirked to himself as he wove his way through the course, confident he had their attention. Behind him, Perk was making good time, and Fin was nearby but not too close. As long as he could keep this up, they were golden. Shot after shot rained down on him, but he was faster, his body pouring like liquid through any available space without slowing down.

“And would you look at that! Auror-bro is showing off why he was picked as captain of the runners. Can they even touch him?”

[GG: You sure he has it? I can’t see it on him anywhere.]

[PP: It’s because he’s moving too damn fast.]

[CE: Then take a slower target. The Tabaxi is looking pretty lax.]

“Brody, they got Fin!”

“I know, Shifty. Just keep moving, I don’t think they know where you are.”

[VL: Got a bead on the firbolg. Taking it.]

“Ohhh, and it’s just Brody now, with a quarter left to go! Can he get back and get the baton? Can he go the distance? I dunno. Henry, what do you think?”

“X’syllander,  there is not a doubt in my mind that that kid is screwed.”

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Brody swung himself around an asteroid and sent himself hurling back towards the dropped baton. The fire was really coming in hard now, and it was taking everything he had just to get back to the baton. But he managed it, scooped the thing up, and went careening back down the track. Red bolts crashed past him, nicking his clothes and slamming into the rocks around him. Suddenly, one hit the front of his board, sending him somersaulting through the void. He managed to land on his board instead of crashing, but he was moving much slower now, electricity crackling from the blackened and smoking nose of his board. Dodging the shots was getting harder and harder as his board slowed. Soon, it stopped completely, and he kicked his way out of it, now jumping between the floating rocks. He didn’t make it three steps before two shots impacted him simultaneously, knocking him unconscious.

“And what a spectacular finish! Brody really showing what it means to not give up, and the Hunters hitting hard and relentless.”

“Y’know Henry, it’s times like this that really make you appreciate the sport. There for a second, I thought he might actually make it.”

“I didn’t.” They both laughed at that, wrapping up the show.

[iratesquatch]

Da Rulez

There are two teams. The objective of the runner team is to get a baton across the playzone, while the hunters try and snipe them from outside the playzone. The playzone is either a straight rectangular cuboid, or a round donut shape. It is comprised of a large field of asteroids, which the runners navigate through using weird snowboard-like devices. The hunters are not banned from entering the playzone, but they are piloting large mechs that will be crushed by the asteroids if they get too close. The field must be suitable densely packed that the asteroids are constantly mashing into each other, so that the hunters are forced to stay back, and the runners must be mindful of where they are, both to avoid being crushed and to make sure that the hunters cannot get a bead on them. There is only one baton. If the player carrying the baton is taken out, the other players must retrieve the baton. There are eight runners and four hunters. The hunters are armed with large mechs, roughly 20-30 yards tall. They have a large pulse sniper rifle that, if it hits, will knock a runner unconscious. The mechs do not have any kind of aim assist, and they have unwieldy scopes. When a runner is knocked unconscious, or is about to be crushed, the referees have a teleporter hooked up to each players suit, that will teleport them out of harm’s way. The game ends when the baton crosses the finish line in someone’s hand, or when all the runners have been eliminated. I have no idea how big the field is or what this game is even called. Probably something to do with blitz.

[iratesquatch]

Beauty, Meet Beast

“Hey, assholes, you wanna FUCKIN’ STOP THAT!” Myrna called from where she crouched behind cover, wincing everytime the heat washed over her.

“Nah.”

“Not really.”

“Nope”

The splash of another fireball made the cyborg cringe, curling harder against her protective barricade.

“Wanna at least let me know where you are?” Their answer came in the form of a hail of magic missiles. “Apparently not,” she muttered to herself. She continued muttering curses as she pulled a grasshopper’s leg from a pouch on her belt, crushing it against her chest as she mumbled a short incantation. A small flash of green energy swirled and then dissipated. Myrna glanced up at scaffold nearby.

She took a few deep breaths to prepare herself, readied a smoke grenade, and gathered her legs under her. She dropped the grenade and a dense fog obscured the vicinity. Distantly, she heard one of the mages ask “Did we get her?” She took a few running steps and then leaped up towards the scaffolds, propelled by her Jump spell. Taking advantage of their confusion the huntress turned, raised her rifle. And shot. The first bullet shattered in flight, turning into a Hail of Thorns and raining down on the trio. One wizard fell to the onslot. She fired again, the next bullet tearing through the torso of another mage, felling him. She rolled back off the small tower, landing with a roll. It wasn’t great cover, but it was still something between her and the final opponent. He glanced at his dead companions, his bloodied face gaunt and pale, jaw set with angry determination.

Before the half-elf could raise her gun and finish him, the wizard disappeared farther into the cavern she had chased them too. She muttered curses and slung the sniper onto her back in favor of the heavy revolver sitting on her hip. She skirted the edges of the room as she moved to the door, gun at the ready. She pressed a button on her neck and a helmet closed around her head, her thick dreadlocks hanging out the back. With a soft whine its optics came online, improving her night vision.

She pressed her back to the wall just to the side of the door, took a few steadying breaths, and then entered, leading the way with her pistol.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Malan,” she called, her helmet giving her voice a synthesized quality. “Come quietly. The bounty says dead or alive, y’know.” Her voice echoed slightly off the tunnel’s constricting walls.

“Too late for that, bitch,” came the hollow reply. She couldn’t pinpoint his distance through the echos. “You killed Jason and Heldran, and now I’m gonna kill you.”

Myrna sighed. They always took it too personally. She continued her creep in silence, toeing up to corners before spinning around them, looking for any movement. Sweat beaded on her brow. What was his game?

She could hear machinery whirring in the next room, and strained her ears for any hint of her bounty. None came. She worked her way into the room, easy as she could. The cave expanded here. Across from her, against the far wall, was some kind of generator, a soft blue glow emanating from it as the center spun slowly. To the left was a long, low building with clear walls. Inside were rows and rows of eggs, each sat upon a distinct table with a single, yellow light hanging low over it. A sound drew her attention to the right. Malan stood on the roof of a two story, large metal building, tubes running from it to the generator and what could only be the incubation room. In one hand was a readied fireball, the other clutching a dead man’s switch.

“C’mon Malan,” she called up. “You don’t gotta do this.”

“You feds ruined everything! We were doing good work.”

She ignored the fact that she wasn’t technically federal. “Y’all killed people, Malan. You gotta answer for that.”

“You see those eggs? That’s the last of the Kuplinni. A history you people want to erase.”

“Those aren’t Kuplinni, the Shear made sure of that. You’re not gonna fool anyone here Malan.”

The wizard groaned in frustration, his movements wild and erratic. “They’re warbeasts, they’re the last of the Kuplinni. But you want to erase them, erase that mistake, and the mistake of the Shear. They’re the last legacy of the Kuplinni, preserved out here, past the rings, where you couldn’t touch them. And now that I’m trying to do the right thing, to remember history, you want to kill me for it.”

“Last chance, Malan. Put the fireball down and drop the switch.” She pulled the hammer on her gun back, a metallic click ringing in the cavernous space.

The mage spat at her and flung his spell. She threw herself to the ground and the fireball went high, slamming into the incubation room, demolishing half of it in an instant. She rolled onto her back, shooting twice. The first shot hit the man in the leg, downing him to his knees. The second shot went straight through his head, sending him sprawling on the roof of the building. The switch fell from his hand, rolling down and then off of the roof. Across the room, the generator began to whine. Myrna scrambled to her feet and sprinted to the low building, barrelling through a burning wall. Outside, the reactor’s tone was growing louder and higher.

One of the eggs wriggled, so she stuffed her gun back into its holster and grabbed it. The thing was roughly the size of a watermelon, but much heavier, with a rough black and gray mottled shell. She hefted it and ran, the glow of the generator taking on an orange color. In her hands, she could feel the lifeform inside the egg kicking.

“Not now, little guy. Just sit tight.” She wove her way back into the first chamber, almost slipping on the pool of blood from her earlier two kills. She leapt over their bodies and vaulted the railing, rolling on her landing and finishing in a dead sprint. Behind her, the tone was earsplitting and an eerie red glow was shining through the doors. An explosion rocked the cavern, and Myrna glanced over her shoulder. Pebbles rained from the cave’s ceiling, their trajectory curling back towards the reactor. That’s not a good sign.

She hefted the egg higher and pushed herself harder, feeling the gravity of whatever Malan’s last plan was tugging at the edges of her coat, trying to drag her back. Ahead, she could see the last set of doors to the outside, even as the force pulling her back threatened to be too much. She felt her rifle slip, the strap falling down to her elbow. It flapped behind her, threatening her grip on the egg. With no time to think, she adjusted her grip on the egg and let the rifle slip, falling backwards. She hauled herself forward, pushing slowly through the doors. Outside, the effects weren’t quite so brutal, and she was able to run again, sprinting towards her ship. She ran up the gangplank, spilling the egg into the co-pilot’s chair and punching in the launch sequence, eager to put distance between herself and the inevitable explosion. As her ship rocketed through the atmosphere, she glanced back just in time to see the ground collapse before a massive burst of red energy sundered a large chunk of the planet.

Next to her, the egg bounced in its seat. Her console beeped to get her attention for an incoming call. Uncle Caltrops. She pulled her helmet from her head, wiped the sweat from her brow, and straightened her hair before answering.

“Myrna, what in the hell was that?”

“Well hello to you too, uncle,” she replied with forced sweetness in her voice.

The drow on the other end sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Niece, please tell me you at least got the bounty.”

“Well, not really. I got something else cool, though!” She picked up the egg and held it proudly before the camera. As she did, a clawed hand burst its way through the thick shell. “Uh, that’s new.”

Her uncle quirked a brow at her antics. “And just what is that, child?”

“A Kuplinni warbeast, if Malan’s to be believed.” That actually managed to put a look of shock on old Caltrops’ face, and the ranger was sad she her hands were full, or she’d have taken a screenshot. Instead she picked at the eggshell on the little creatures grasping claws.

The pair continued to bicker as Myrna helped her new charge into the world. Eventually she managed to talk her uncle into looking up old Kuplinni races, none of which matched the horrid beast that was now sitting in half an eggshell in her lap.

“Well, in that case, I’m just gonna call her Lulu.”

“And how, pray tell, do you know that that abomination is a ‘her’?”

“Well, she don’t got any dangly bits, ‘sides from these weird extra arms of hers, so it’s probably a she.”

“Well, it could be a genital slit, or a cloaca as well,” he retorted.

“Well, if that asshat Malan hadn’t just blown the rest to hell I’d go find another and see if either popped a boner. Until proven otherwise, her name is Lulu, and I love her.” She nodded as if that was the end of the discussion, rubbing a gloved finger affectionately under the baby alien’s chin. “Also, remember that rifle you gave me? Your old favorite? Yeah, I kinda lost it.” That set off a whole new round of arguing as Myrna’s ship speed home.

[iratesquatch]

Valiance: an Oath to Honor, Duty, and Sacrifice

In which a very tired student sets out to write a summary, does her best.

Summary of my Dissertation on the History of the Valiant

Draft 1(to be paired with the summary of Vrinslen culture)

Colnso, Jayreen

Date TBD

Dr. Lanstring

Northwestern Station University No. 16

Before the Fourth Expansion, the planet Brinslav was home to the Vrinslen, the precursors to what would become the Shear. Then, they were a simple people, with very limited access to magic, given their planet’s distance from the closest lay line. Their society was splintered, with various tribes vying for dominance of the planet’s single continent, Traas.

During the preliminary scouting for the Fourth Expansion, this planet was labeled as too dangerous to be uplifted, and placed in quarantine. However, as the expansion got underway, the funds ran out before Brinslav was within the rings, instead falling on the Fringe. As the dust from the Expansion settled, pirates, marauders, and various predatory types realized how powerful the Vrinslen were. Standing anywhere from 10-13 feet in height, and weighing up to half a ton, a single Vrinslen was more than a match for any squad of trained soldiers. Since the planet was on the Fringe, there was no one to enforce the quarantine.

Soon, a entrepreneurial group of pirates decided to make their move. They had noticed that one of the larger tribes, then called the Trubick, or the Sword, was far and away more bloodthirsty than their neighbors. The pirates struck a deal, trading weapons, technology, and knowledge in exchange for warriors. The leader of the Trubick, a woman named Vring’s Swordarm, was as cunning as she was ruthless. Armed with the pirates’ technology, she quickly brought the rest of the tribes under her heel, assimilating or enslaving them all.

Not long after she managed this, however, she was challenged. By the man history remembers, Klimon Nilx, or, as we know him, Klimon’s Shear. Vrinslen etiquette demanded that, since he was also Vrinslen royalty (as can be seen by his single-word name), Vring had to accept the challenge. Details on the duel vary wildly, ranging from he killed her in a single blow, to three days of stalemate, until Klimon cheated, or that Vring tried to cheat, and forfeited. However it happened, Klimon won, and took power. His first act was to do away with Vring’s tribe and loyal followers, an act known as the Shearing. He even changed the name of the people, an act that would change the Vrinslen forever. From that day forward, they were called the Shear. They turned on their pirate trade partners, stole their ships, and took to the skies.

Using their natural propensity for violence, they quickly overtook the Fringe worlds. They never settled them, however, only leaving behind enough Shear to keep things in order, before moving on. Soon, they had their own small armada, and they were planning on using it. Klimon was smart, however, and patient. Since the Fringe is a lawless place, no one was surprised when pirates started disappearing. Klimon knew when he went into the Rings, it would be war. So he bided his time, waiting in the Fringe and sacking any merchant or transport ship he came across. When he felt he had enough resources, and enough subservient colonies in the Fringe, he began to push Ringward.

Klimon was careful to never take too much, weary of the Federal Navy coming down on their heads. The Shear were unbeatable on the ground, but their naval tactics were lacking. After nearly two centuries of rule, Klimon was killed in battle when the Federal Navy inevitably came for him.

After his death, Klimon’s daughter, Minslas’ Shear-Point, took command of the Shear. She quickly created the rank of General-King (approximate translation, verify before final draft). Minslas had her father’s smarts, but not his patience. She expanded Shear territory nearly ten-fold before her death at the hands of a Federal blockade. For nearly a millennium, the Shear were the scourge of the Outer Rings. The Federal Navy was unwilling to go to war with the Shear, for fear of their retalitions and the costs of an ongoing conflict. However, as the years stretched on, so did the resources that could be mined from within the Rings.

The purpose of the Expansions is to ensure that there are enough resources to go around. Due to the constant stalemate with the Shear, as well as their constant raids on material shipments, meant that the Inner Rings were starving for raw materials. This turned out to be enough to get the Federals to act. On (DATE), the Federal Navy, along with the Army and a selection of mercenary forces, began their war with the Shear. The initial assault would come to be known as the Red Sky, and the war overall would be called Brinslav Incident, and later the Shear’s War.

The Shear General-King during the Red Sky was Krummag’s Brine. The Shear were in the middle of on-loading stolen cargo when the Navy and Army arrived. Though the Shear ships outnumbered the Navy’s, it was a long and grueling battle. The Army had it even worse, fighting it out on the nearby planet of Kipples. Krummag was on planet when the fighting started. The army, with their mercenary reinforcements outnumbered the Shear there nearly twenty to one, but they were still unable to complete their objective: Seize the orbital cannons on the planet and stop them from firing on the Navy. Krummag’s forces were more than a match for the Army, but his ships did not fair so well. Even with the orbital cannons from Kipples, the Shear ships were overwhelmed and forced to retreat, abandoning their General-King. The Navy was quick to bomb the cannons off the face of the planet, killing Krummag in the assault, sending a clear message to the Shear forces. (expand on the war as a whole in the full dissertation)

Over the next two hundred years, the war was a stalemate. When either side gained ground, the other was quick to take it back. Many planets along the front are still uninhabitable to this day. Eventually, the federal government was desperate, and they devised a new plan. Over the course of the war, many General-Kings had risen to their position through battlefield prowess, only to be shortly thereafter killed on those same battlefields. The last General-King was Lyonses’ Eyes Pierce the Stars, and she ruled from the home planet, Brinslav. She had a more sickly stature than the rest of her people, and had earned her right to rule through cunning alone, a fact that was very politically divisive for her.

The new plan the federal gov had come up with was relatively simple; they were going to blow up Brinslav. How they were going to do it was much more tricky. Given the planet’s location relative to lay lines was a problem. It meant travel there was much more tricky, and also meant that any kind of magical device would have a reduced effect without that energy to draw on. (maybe cut down on the technobabble, eh, Jay?)

And thus Operation 78 was executed. A dumb bomb was launched from on of the Rings, and it was expected to impact the planet roughly 18 years after launch. During those years, the Federal government did everything it could to try and end the war before the bomb hit, but the Shear were just as determined, their pride on the line. On (DATE), the bomb hit Brinslav, completely destroying the entire planet, and a large portion of the surrounding solar system. The effects this had on the lay lines are still being researched today.

The feds expected this to either end the war outright, or severely limit the Shear’s ability to react and fight. Neither of this things happened. Instead, every ship inside the rings went apeshit(!), attacking the Federal Navy until the Shear vessel was completely annihilated, or unable to attack in any way. A few anecdotes even depict the warships firing escape pods (fuckin escape pods) as a means of attack. In every case, the crews would refuse to surrender, insulting the officers and resisting until they were put down. As the clean-up went on, the Federal Navy stopped going aboard to take prisoners, instead sinking the disabled ships from a safe distance.

Despite this, the ships outside of the Rings, in the Fringe, behaved differently. Instead of attacking, they retreated, seeking refuge away from Federal Navy, keeping to the Outer Fringe. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

With the Shear broken, the government was able to move forward with the Fifth Expansion. During this period, the remain Shear kept as far to the Fringe as they could, trying to figure out how to retrofit their warships into habitats. For another hundred years, the expansion went on, for another hundred years, the Shear slinking in the shadows, scraping to get by.

Then, the expansion hit upon another alien race; the Kuplinni. Everyone knows them, im not going to go into detail in the summary. Their invasion was quick, brutal, and relentless. Planet by planet, system by system, they pushed the Navy and Army back, eventually using the Rings against the government. Entire sections would be taken down for fear of the Kuplinni using it against them. The Navy couldn’t stop them, only slow them down.

Then, the unexpected happened. On the planet Ryuss, one of the first planets taken in the fifth expansion, an unknown vessel was spotted during a ground assault by the Kuplinni. It flew new colors; dark green, gold, and red. On the side of the massive dreadnought was “VALIANCE: AN OATH TO HONOR DUTY AND SACRIFICE’. It was a Shear vessel, fashioned from the cobbled together remains of their warships. It had no accompanying ships; it stood alone, apart from the Navy. Reports indicate that the Navy’s fleet was ordered to fire on the ship, but there were no guns to spare for the super dreadnought, as it would come to be classified as. It landed as many troops as it could spare, and the Shear and Army fought side by side against the Kuplinni. From then on, the Shear had a new name. They were called the Valiant.

The Navy, with support from the super dreadnought, and the Army, with help from the Valiant warriors managed to stop the Kuplinni at Ryuss and finally turn the tide. The next three hundred years were the mirror image of the Kuplinni invasion: the Valiant were instrumental in retaking the planets, and they were always the first boots on the planet and the last bullet fired.

Finally, the government and the Valiant had pushed the Kuplinni back to their home planet, Vryssis. The government wanted to quarantine them there, but the Valiant were unwilling to let that happen. Against the government's orders, the Valiant invaded Vryssis and slaughtered the last of their kind, ending the threat forever.

The slaughter did cost the Valiant dearly. All through the war, they had suffered far harder casualties than anyone else, and by the time they reached Vryssis, they were all but gone, the Valiance nearly a ghost ship, with entire sections of it non-operational. By the time the dust on Vryssis settled, there were only a few dozen Valiant left; too few to keep a viable gene pool going. After they were done, they all went their separate ways, finally tired of war.

Those that survived Vryssis were welcomed as heroes on the planets they had liberated, and they lived their lives there as kings. But, as they died off (their average life span is roughly 300 years), people slowly stopped remembering what they had done, what they had saved. Slowly, the name ‘Valiant’ became less popular, being replaced by Shear again. These days, that is all they are known as, and remembered primarily as vikings and pirates.

Blah blah in conclusion yadda yadda whatever.

Note- address rumors of Valiant sleeper cells and cryopod experiments

Im gonna go pass out now

[iratesquatch]

And he Shall be called Lulu

He’s got a bit of a stick up his ass, eh?

Caltrops stood on the side of the busy street, his foot tapping impatiently. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his coat, and from his left wrist a leash trailed upwards, connected firmly to collar of his niece’s pet, Lulu. Across the street, Myrna bounced out of the hospital, hopping happily on her new prosthetic leg. The military hardware she usually had on her arms were gone, replaced with clean, white civilian prosthetics instead. She waved to her uncle as she crossed the street quickly, taking advantage of a brief window in the traffic.

“How is the leg?” He asked cooly, passing her Lulu’s lead.

“Gotta say it, these inner Ring hospitals are a sure sight better then the sorry shacks out in the Fringe.” She reached her hand up, and Lulu affectionately butted his head into her palm, careful not to graze her with his sharp horns. His long tongue lapped at her arm, confused.

Caltrops rolled his yellow eyes, tired of the beast after having to care for it while Myrna had been in recovery. “If you ever used a day of my training, you would not need places like that.”

“And if I listened to you all the time, I’d’ve never met my darling.” She pulled Lulu’s massive head down to wrap her arms around his thick neck. He carefully kept his sharp claws clear of her.

The drow quirked an eyebrow at her. “And what a shame that would have been. Let us find some lunch,” he said with a sigh, and began to walk along the road. His niece quickly fell in step beside him, with Lulu lumbering behind them both, ensuring that they always had ample walking space.

[iratesquatch]

A Bad Moon Rising

He’s really not having a great day

The sound of a klaxon blaring pulled Brommoth from his slumber. The old dwarf pulled himself out of his bunk, the heavy boots on his feet landing with a clank on the grated metal floor. The other mechanics were already scrambling, trying to figure out what the cause for alarm was. They didn’t have to wait long.

The ship rocked violently with a deafening roar, sending Brommoth tumbling back into his bunk. By the time he was on his feet again, the shuddering of the ship set in. He paused for a moment, letting the irregular vibrations flow through him. For a second, he was lost in thought.

Brommoth Varsguard had spent all his life working with spaceships. He had been born in space, aboard his parent’s merchant ship, peddling wares across the various planets that line the Fringe. Situations being as they had been, Brommoth had taken to the wrench and tome, learning the basics of his trade from a young age.

After pirates killed his parents, he found work as an apprentice on a shipping vessel on the other side of the Rings. There, he had refined the things he’d picked up on the Fringe. Between his knack for unconventional solutions and his workaholic nature, Brommoth had quickly moved on to greener pastures. He had spent the next three hundred or so years moving between contracts, usually as the master mechanic aboard. There were few ships he didn’t know in and out, and fewer still that he couldn’t keep running.

A particularly heavy tremor pulled Brommoth back to the present, and he snapped into motion. He strode his way towards the engine, shouting orders to the lower ranking mechanics as he went. He pulled himself up into the engine room, gazing up at the arcane machine inquisitively.

This ship was a stripped-down military surplus that had been rekitted into a long-distance hauler. It’s engine, therefore, was an older one. It was a giant crystal, mined from one of the hotspots just outside of the Rings. The crystal had then been refined and cut into form before being sent of to the wizards. They had to hand carve the runes and tie the crystal into the natural, ambient magics of the cosmos, before it was sent off to be installed into the ship itself.

The crystal was held in aloft by a mass of thick tubes, which disappeared into the ship to power the propulsion, life support, navigation, and all manner of other systems. At least, that was the intention. Brommoth narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the floundering light flickering deep inside the crystal.

“Looks like there’s a short somewhere. Probably wherever that explosion came from. Fix it.” As the younger mechanics spidered off to follow out his orders, Brommoth turned his attention to figuring out what was going on. He shuffled his way over to a comm post.

“Varsguard here, what the hell is happening up there?”

“We’re under attack. Gonna need as much outta the engine as you can manage, master mechanic,” came the reply.

Brommoth grunted and hung up, shuffling his way towards the engine’s shutoffs. If there was a battle brewing, they weren’t equipped for handling this. He began shutting off the nonessential systems. They were going to need the energy for the coming storm.

Another volley rocked his ship, and Brommoth caught himself on the railing around the outside of the engine room. This impact left the whole ship shuddering for a much longer time, and Varsguard could see the light in the engine flash brighter. They were boarding.

“Goddamn motherfucking pirates.”

He pulled himself up out of the engine room, and began working his way towards the propulsion deck. If they were going to break that tether, they were going to need to put some muscle into it. He opened the door and peered into the darkened room. It wasn’t supposed to be dark

“-all I’m saying is, if they weren’t fucking, that would be weird.”

“Dude, I don’t want to think about that. How would it even work? He’s like, six times her size.”

“If you didn’t want to think about it, you wouldn’t be thinking about it”

Brommoth crept forward to the guard rail, wincing at every creak of the metal grating under his boots, and peaked down at the conversationalists below. The catwalk swayed slightly under his movements. Must have taken a hit from the pirates’ ship.

“If you want to know, why don’t you just ask one of them yourself?”

“Are you kidding? Captain would shoot me on the spot if I asked her that.”

“So ask Be-ark.”

“He’d rip my arms of and then shoot me.”

Great, not only were they pirates, but they were the Crossbones. Wonderful. Brommoth began his slow backtrack out of the propulsion deck when the catwalk shuddered. He paused, holding his breath for a few long moments.

“You hear something?”

“Probably engine problems. We hit them pretty hard.”

“Well yeah, its captain Nish.”

When the fragile walkway settled, Brommoth took another slow step.

Of course, the whole thing came unhinged below him. He went tumbling into the scaffolding below, bursting straight through and onto the solid ground below. Right at the feet of the two pirates.

One leaned down and grinned at him, a tabaxi, from the look of him. “Well well, looks like I did hear something. Uus, what do you think we should do with him.”

The other, Uus, a burly half-orc, folded his arms over his chest, breaking into a wide, toothy grin. “Why, I think we’ll have to have ourselves a little sit down with this one. He’s gotta a rather large badge on him.”

Before either of the pirates could sit him down, however, the door across the room burst open as two bodies were flung through it. “-ing hell, can’t even find a decent fight on these rigs.” Ducking his way through the sundered door came an armored behemoth, standing around twelve feet tall, and adorned helmet to boot in power armor. However, it was the shark-like tail that really gave it away, swaying dangerously behind the Shear. “You two, what’s this?”

“Lieutenant, I think he is the master mechanic aboard,” replied the catman, backing away reflexively from the armored barbarian.

“That so. You got a name, small fry?” The Shear’s voice was a rumble that never quite matched up with the sounds Brommoth heard. Must be a trick of the translator.

“Brommoth Varsguard, master mechanic aboard.”

“Any good at your job?”

“No one better.”

Be-ark pulled his helmet off before leaning down to inspect the dwarf’s face. Brommoth’s dark brown beard was carefully braided together and tucked into his overalls, to keep it out of the way. The hair on top of his head was all but gone, but the hair on the sides of his head was pulled back into a small bun at the base of his skull. His sleepy, orange eyes were burning with malice.

The Shear grabbed Varsguard by his collar, hoisting him up to be level with Be-ark’s chest. “Well then, captain’s going to want a look at you.”

Be-ark left the two other pirates to their post, carrying the struggling dwarf through the

ship, all the way up to the bridge. They walked in just as captain Vladlena Nishimura finished subjugating the captain of the transport ship, a couple of lackys forcing the man to his knees. Brommoth was deposited next to his officer. The pirates didn’t bother binding him.

“This one important, Bea?”

“Says he’s the chief mechanic aboard,” replied Be-ark, putting his helmet back on.

“Well alright. We could use one of those. But first, we deal with you, captain. Honestly, I didn’t expect much of a fight, but still. You turned over after our first volley, and we come in here, and- you’re already blubbering.” The little kobold sighed, reaching up to massage her snout as the captain started wailing, pleading for his life. “Just- alright. Someone space this coward, I don’t want to deal with this anymore.” Brommoth watched as they dragged the captain away, presumably to the nearest airlock.

“And you, dwarf. Let’s talk. You don’t seem like a coward.” The woman propped her foot up on the dead body of one of the mercenary guards. She pulled her shotgun off of her back before laying it across her leg.

“Nope.”

“Then I got a proposition for ya, buddy. I could always use another handy mechanic, and you got the hands of someone who knows their way around a wrench. Wadda ya say?”

“I say, you can choke on my hairy dwarf nuts, pirate.”

“Now that,” she paused to sigh. “That really is a shame.” And then she leveled her gun at his chest and pulled the trigger.

[iratesquatch]

Break Time

Just an interesting visual

A young woman sits on an alien moon. The surface of the nearby pond is split into hexagonal tiles, reflecting the image of the huge planet above. She munches on a favorite fruit, reading an old arcane text. The gravity of the nearby planet makes her feel so light while it's overhead. Her familiar, a black cat, is curled up on her lap, purring softly. A group of large herd animals approaches, weary of the stranger, but unafraid. The ripples from their drinking runs through the hexagons, but doesn't break them. The sky is a soft purple. She takes another bite of her lunch and turns the page

[iratesquatch]

The Princess

The whole ‘alien princess’ thing is still in, right?

“Gods damn, this atmosphere is so thick it feels like I’m swimming.”

“Fucking soup, man.”

“Mouths shut, eyes open people, we’re coming up on that signal.”

The small party wearily peered around the darkened and craggy landscape, their lamps cutting through the heavy air like swords. They had landed here for a research operation, someone back at base said that this planet was harboring life. Most people laughed it off. Between the atmosphere so thick it blocked out most light, the young star, and the toxic sludge that ran like rivers, there was no way anything lived here. But, apparently, enough bigwigs bought it to send out a team. If three counted as a team.

“Damn it Rissc, stop fucking screaming every time you see one of us move. There’s nothing here but some dumbasses’ lost cargo or something. That signal is a bullshit ping.”

“Fuck off Graves, you puked in your own helmet when we broke atmo, you don’t get to tell me shit.”

“I swear to the gods I’m gonna come over there and rip your mic out and leave you to choke-”

“Shut the fuck up. We gotta make sure it’s not a distress signal and someone’s in trouble. We’re in the Outer Fringe, anything is possible out here.”

“Oh yeah Vraas? Does that mean Rissc is gonna bite it? Maybe then there’ll be enough food to go around!”

“I do still have that crowbar, Graves.”

“Fucking try it, I dare- Shit!”

At that moment, the dusty ground gave out from under the surly halfling, sending her sliding down a cliff. After thirty feet or so, she slid out of light-range and her companions could not see her.

“Graves! Graves, radio check, check in. Are you ok? Check your suit.”

“Oh shit, Vraas, look,” Rissc tugged on the shoulder of his armor, pointing off to the side of where their companion had disappeared.

Swaying gently in the currentlike winds of this mountain range was…something. Vraas inched closer, weary of the unstable ground. He ran his light back over the aperation. It looked like an anemone, but several yards across. It’s bulb like body was largely transparent, with a gray tinge to it. The long tentacles sticking up out the bulb changed to a very soft orange color towards the tips. Vraas inched closer, trying to get a better look at what it was that was on the ends of those tentacles. Just then, a couple of tentacle-like roots burst up around the captain, causing the ground under him to crumble and send him sliding down after Graves.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” muttered the now lonesome Risscaso. He peered at the rootacles that had sabotaged his captain. It certainly seemed like they had moved with purpose, but now that they were done they weren’t returning to the dirt, they just stayed sitting straight up, swaying gently in the currents. Rissc shivered. He didn’t want to be alone, not with this strange creature. He shuffled around to the cliff where his friends had disappeared, toeing the edge before beginning a careful, dissent.

Once at the bottom, Rissc glanced around, looking for any sign of his companions. To his right was a fresh looking rockslide, presumably the one left by Vraas after his fall, along with a set of boot prints, which crossed in front of the scared explorer, leading off to his left, towards where Graves had disappeared. With a sigh the half-orc began trudging towards companionship, eyes peeled for any more of those weird plants. After a little bit, Vraas and Graves came into view. Vraas was kneeling over the injured halfling, her hand clutching at a bloody patch on her side.

“So nice of you to finally join us Rissc,” quipped the injured woman, while Vraas pulled her to her feet.

“Keep pressure on that, we don’t know what contaminants could be floating around in this soup.” Vraas pulled off his pack, producing a roll of tape. Rissc poked around a bit while his captain tended to his injured friend. After a few minutes, Graves was suitable patched up.

“Don’t move too much, or that might come loose. It’s little bit farther to the signal. Maybe they’ll have enough supplies to patch you up.”

“Why the fuck are we after this stupid signal anyway? That’s not what we came to this rock for. I didn’t leave the Rings so I could die of blood poisoning on this fucking rock over some stupid signal we don’t know anything about! Whoever it is could have set it up, and then kicked the bucket and all we’re going to find is some corpses and rubble! This planet is as inhospitable as it gets. The atmo is so thick and heavy that signal can’t even get past it, whoever put it up probably died a long time ago.”

“Then we get their body and bring them home, Graves,” replied the old wolfman. “It’s because that signal can’t get out that we have to do this. No one else knows, by the time we get out of here and radio for help it might be too late. We’re almost there, might as well finish the job.”

Rissc turned back to face the group. “Uh, guys? You should see this.”

Vraas gave Graves another meaningful look before striding over to the half-orc. Just at the edge of where their light reached, two more of those anemone creatures. Graves limped up behind them.

“Let me guess. The signal is that way?”

“Of course.”

“Vraas, I’m not so sure we shouldn’t try and go around after that one back there attacked you.”

“All it did was move some ground, there’s no need to be scared, Rissc. Looks like I’m going to owe Jerry some serious creds when we get back.” The veteran wolf began his trek forward, Graves limping behind. Rissc sighed again and followed suit.

They walked in silence for a while. The farther they went, the more frequent the plants became. After a few minutes, there was always at least one within light range, and Graves had a sneaking suspicion that they were getting bigger. Vraas paused to examine one, making sure to keep his distance this time. This one was larger, perhaps five yards across and had a distinctive purple and orange coloration to it. He still couldn’t quite make out what was tipping the tentacles. He shook his head and turned towards Rissc to ask where the signal was.

However, when he spoke, Rissc just gave him a quizzical look before asking a question back. Vraas could see him speaking through his helmet, but no sound was coming through. Looking annoyed, he pressed a button on his throat.

“Everyone, switch over to the suit’s speaker. Looks like our radio is down. Too much magical interference.”

“-cking cheap bastards, can’t even spring for tech radios, had to get the cheap magic ones,”

“At least the suits are tech based, so we probably won’t have any breathing problems,” Rissc pointed out as he pulled out a small scanner and began waving it around. “Yeah, looks like these trees are putting out some kind of field that’s messing with our magical items.”

“Great.” Graves started walking again, still heading for the mysterious signal.

Behind the trio, the tentacles of the creatures began to writhe.

They walked in silence until Vraas help up his closed fist. “Something’s weird here. Lights off.”

Rissc and Graves shared a look, before shrugging and switching off their head lamps. Vraas turned his off last, plunging the team into complete darkness. In the tense moments following, their eyes began to adjust to the darkness. But it wasn’t quite as dark as they’d thought. Vraas grimaced. In the alien forest, light was blooming. Deep inside the bodies of the plants, a faint, ghoulish green light was winking. It also shone from just below the tips of the tentacles.

“Well, not really sure what that means,” Rissc said in a small voice.

Vraas shook his head. “It doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

The group pressed on, relying on the light given off by the creatures to guide them. Now they were taller than the explorers, nearing ten yards across and glowing brighter. The light from the plants seemed to permeate the oppressive dark better than their lamps ever had. The party’s progress was slow, as the air seemed to be getting even thicker the deeper into the forest they went, and they were actively paddling their arms to gain more speed. The tentacles on top of the plants waved ever more.

“We’re coming up on that signal now, Vraas.” There was more than a little trepidation in Rissc’s voice. By now the trees were so close that no matter where they stood, they were brushing up against one, and there was enough light that it would be comforting, in any other situation.

Before Vraas could reply, he was seized by some of the tentacles from one of the trees, and Graves got an up-close look at their tips. Sprouting out of the fleshy appendage were three pairs of claws, all laid next to each other like a grotesque maw, with wicked looking points to them. They sunk into Vraas’ arms and torso before hoisting him up. In her shock, Graves didn’t notice the tentacles reaching for her until it was too late. Rissc turned to run, but they grabbed his ankles before he could get far.

The creatures passed the trespassers along their tops, towards the center of their kingdom. The trees continued to grow in height and girth. Here, above the forest, the explorers could see much clearer. In the center, twice as tall as the surrounding trees and more than four times as big around, stood the leader. The anemone glowed pink, purple, and gold, her tentacles rustling serenely in contrast with her loyal subjects’ horrid writhing. Vraas gasped in pain as he was presented before the Princess, the pincers of the anemones puncturing his suit.

Before asphyxiation was to take him, however, the tentacles of the Princess drifted down to him. A single tentacle caressed his helmet before plunging through his faceplate, forcing itself down his throat. His eyes bugged as the tentacle burst through his stomach, his screams muffled. The Blood drifted outward in the dense atmosphere. Rissc looked on in terror as the Princess ripped Graves’ legs from her body, the tentacles retreating with their prizes. Graves only shrieked louder when the tentacles took her arms, only stopping when the Princess’ claws finally closed on her neck, pinching off Graves’ vocal chords. Risscaso wept as he watched the life drain from his friend. By the time the Princess turned her focus to him, he was a blubbering mess, pleading for his life against the malicious alien. Graves’ lifeless body was pulled up towards the Princess’ crown. A tentacle wrapped around Rissc’s hand, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. He yelled out as he felt the bones shatter. The Princess moved up his arm, breaking each of his bones in turn. When she finished with his arms, she worked her way up each of his legs in turn before working on his torso.

Except, when she squeezed above his weird walking tentacles, nothing snapped this time. Instead, she just pushed a sack of goopy organs out of his mouth. These creatures didn’t make sense to her. They had so many oddities about them. Holes to make pointless noises, appendages where there shouldn’t be any, and some kind of strange rocks inside of their tentacles. She needed more of these strange creatures, she hungered for understanding. She put their nutrients towards calling more towards her.

[iratesquatch]

A Mercenary, Stalking

A bounty hunter and her loyal pet

The deep, rhythmic breathing of Lulu calmed her nerves somewhat in the cool night air. The pair had been observing this compound for days, and this coming dawn was to be the day they fought their way in. Myrna adjusted her elbows in her prone position, looking over to make sure Lulu wasn’t sleeping. Two eerie, red reptilian eyes stared back, but that wasn’t confirmation that the beast was awake.

Myrna nudged his head with her foot, and her beloved pet let out an annoyed snort, letting his long forked-tongue loll from his fanged maw. With a soft giggle, the ranger affectionately stroked his short muzzle with her foot, and he gave a soft noise of appreciation.

A few more minutes and it would be dawn, and then it would be time to fight. That would certainly wake him up. Lulu was never one to sleep through a brawl. Especially not when there were so many tasty morsels for him.

Just as the sun started to crest the northern mountains, Myrna drew herself to a crouch, and Lulu stood to his full, impressive height. The reptilian alien was only a few years old, but already stood near fifteen feet tall. His master had taken the liberty of commissioning a set of polymer barding as well, adding to his imposing, spiked form. Lulu paused to shake the stiffness from his tired limbs, excited for the coming bloodlet.

With a smirk, the bounty hunter flicked her thermal optics over her remaining natural eye and hefted her marksman rifle. It was time. She gave Lulu his command, and the behemoth, with astonishing speed, raced down the small cliff towards his mark. Myrna slid down after him, rifle at the ready, as the unsuspecting mercenaries attempted to deal with the massive, armored beast.

[iratesquatch]

A Lizard, Shark-bear, and Some Shots

What could go wrong?

She scans the jagged horizon with her binoculars, looking for any glint of their quarry. A low groan from behind pulls her from her focus

“You knew it was only a chance they were going to be here, Bea.” Nish dropped the goggles and rubbed at the bridge of her nose before turning to face her, rather large, companion.

“Yeah, yeah. Thought you could use the company,” was the rumbling response from the Shear as he released the visor on his helmet. He took a deep breath of the alien atmosphere before turning to lean on a concrete barrier. Captain Nishimura’s eyes narrowed with frustration. Days of recon on this backwater rock, and all they had to show for it was a couple of abandoned buildings. She was starting to think Be-ark had the right idea: this place was a waste of time.

The Captain looked back at her partner, noting the layer of dust coating the plates of his armor. He clearly wasn’t expecting much from this endeavour. She found herself lost in thought, recounting her first meeting with the huge alien.

She had been pawing around a small outpost, a relic from a war so long ago that no one even knew who had been fighting there. As she was picking through its remains, she had stumbled upon a lower level, hidden away. Inside, there were hundreds of stasis pods, with varying manner of creatures inside. But, over the years, all had failed, until there was only one left operational. Vladlena, ever curious, had poked her snout around until she released the pod’s occupant; a Shear commander, Be-ark’s Soul is Carved of Will and Will Alone. Upon his awakening, there was a struggle.

That thought brought a ghost of a smile to the little lizard’s lips. She was glad-

The sound of metal ricocheting off metal snapped her out of her thoughts as a sniper round collided with the side of Be-ark’s helmet, sending the small giant slumping ungracefully over the barricade he was leaning on. Nish quickly scrambled over after him, seeking cover from the sniper.

“They shot me! In the head!” He exclaimed as he sat up, picking at the small crater in the side of his head.

“You’re fine, Bea,” she quipped back, unholstering her shotgun.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean it felt great,” came his surly reply as he readied his gauntlets. “You know where that’s coming from?”

“Uh, west? Maybe north-west? It was hard to pinpoint the sound through your bitching.” The Kobold peaked her snout around the side of the cover, hoping to catch sight of their hunters. Before she could see anything, another shot bounced off her shield, sending her reeling back into safety.

“Alright, fuck this,” growled the massive warrior. A mechanical click sounded as he dropped his visor before standing and striding out. Another shot came, but Be-ark was ready this time, and the impact to his chest barely slowed the angry soldier. Nish allowed herself a small smile as the sounds of chaos of the half-ton halfbreed washed over her. No longer afraid of getting her head shot off, she stood and relished in the destruction of her companion. Her smile morphed into a shit eating grin when Be-ark started cussing so vehemently and colorfully in his language that her translator failed.

She was glad he hadn’t managed to kill her.