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blitzandthebarracudabrigade · 6 years

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Prologue 3.1: Where Squids Fear to Swim

Here comes another story after many weeks of thinking my PC had finally run out of steam! I’m actually surprised it managed to stay stable long enough for me to get this done! (knocking on wood so much from writing this here) But regardless, here is the third segment of the Prologue stories!

Outskirts of Calamari County, 0723 hours.

The shining beams of the morning sun gleamed through the clouds of the prior night, a few illuminating the small outpost stationed a few hundred meters from the border that defines the territories between the Inkling and Octarian peoples. Despite its seemingly unimportant appearance the outpost, designated as Bakery Battlement, served as a first response checkpoint should the Octarians ever attempt to invade and cross the border with military force. Established mere months after the end of the Great Turf War, the Inkling military established dozens of outposts such as this along the entire border to ensure that no one sector was unchecked. The Octarians, however, wouldn’t accept this and have established their own checkpoints as well, known as Kettles, where they stationed their troops in underground bases. But due to the efforts of the newly formed Squidbeak Splatoon, Agents 3 and 4 have successfully managed to effectively demilitarize their forces via retaking the Zapfishes when they were stolen. Without this vital power source the Great Octo weapons were rendered useless, forcing the Octarians to rely on less effective sources of energy. Ever since then the relationship between the two countries have devolved into a thinning line of tension and suspicion, as neither side are willing to come to peace and reestablish negotiations.

As the sun rose to bring its warming rays to the surrounding barren landscape, the occupants of Baker Battlement awoke and began to gear up for the resupply convoy. Numbering 5 in their squid squad, the members of Baker Company include: Sergeant Cutter, Privates Rollpin, Lowbs, Spatlas, and the newest transfer Pan. Cutter buttoned up his uniform before pulling up his pants and tucking in, tighening the belt to ensure it’s secured. Rollpin, Lowbs, and Spatlas followed his example and tucked in their own uniforms before grabbing their standard issue helmets. Meanwhile Pan was still out of it, her pillow covering her face and an arm and leg hanging out from under the blanket.

“Hey, someone wake her up.” Cutter barked back to the privates. They looked at each other and decided that Spatlas is to be her alarm clock.

“Ugh, fine.” He groaned and walked over to the sleeping trooper. “Oie, wake up.”

She barely moved a muscle, instead letting out a light snore.

C’mon kid, wake up. Spatlas furrowed his brow and lightly kicked her leg.

She quietly groaned and shuffled slightly under her pillow.

“Oh for-” He grabbed the feather-filled cushion and yanked it off of her face, a faint beam of sunlight hitting her closed eyes. This was enough to get her to sit upright, a look if disdain forming on her face.

“What?” She said in a daze, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

“Get up kid, we got work to do.” Spatlas threw the pillow back to her before following his comrades out of the sleeping quarters.

She sat on her bed staring at her new squadmates, finding it oddly surreal that she was here in Baker Battlements. Never in her life did she expect to actually be stationed so far from home. She slumped out of her bunk, not realizing she changed into her squid form, and proceeded to her gear box to put on her own uniform. Slowly but surely she slipped on her boots, pants, and uniform and slogged her way to the mess room. As she peered in she saw that Cutter and Rollpin were already bringing out pre-cooked MREs while Lowbs and Spatlas were organizing their inventory. Pan wasn’t sure of what to do or whether she should be doing anything, as she was only stationed there for just over a week. Regardless she took in a deep breath and walked inside. For a moment her squad stopped whatever they were doing and looked at her. She shuffled her feet a few times before looking up to the sergeant in command.

“...what?” Cutter said monotonously, glancing back to the others.

“Eh? N-nothing.” She quickly looked down to her feet and made her way to an empty chair. She refused to look up at anyone else until Cutter placed a tray of rehydrated hashbrowns, refried beans, and a few cooked eggs.

“Thank you...” She grabbed a fork and quietly ate her breakfast, leaving the others to their own devices. Cutter went back to get himself a helping of food while Rollpin, Lowbs, and Spatlas went back to discussing the schedule for the day.

“First things first, we gotta take inventory of all the provisions so we get enough to last us another month,” Lowbs motioned to the top of a list laid out before the trio. “afterwards we restock our munitions because someone can’t control their itchy trigger finger.” Lowbs and Rollpin glanced at Spatlas, who was in the middle of wolfing down a concoction of scrambled eggs, ham, and toast.

“...what?” He mumbled through his food.

Lowbs shook his head and resumed the last items on the list. “Finally we need to recheck all the sensors that run the perimeter of the outpost.”

“Again? But we did that 3 days ago!” Rollpin groaned as he tossed a piece of toast on his plate.

“Yeah, well the sensors are acting up again because of all the sand blowing around recently. And it’s starting to gunk up the barometers.”

“Ugh, fine.” Rollpin leaned back on his chair, reluctantly accepting the task. “Anything else we need to do?”

Lowbs tapped his utensil against his chin, thinking deeply whether there was. “Ah! One of the Commander’s secondaries, Nhan-Tu, is making an inspection visit after we are to be resupplied.”

Rollpin merely sniffed while the others resumed finishing their breakfasts. However Pan gave the private a quizzical look. “Who’s Nhan-Tu?”

The private gave her a raised eyebrow but Cutter intervened before he could make a comment on her question. “She’s one of our Commander’s closest colleagues. One of the leading combat medics back at HQ. She trains all the new field docs that want to help people out, ya know?”

“Oh, okay.” Pan nodded, scooping a mouthful of beans into her mouth.

“Yeah, but she ain’t as strict as you might think. So don’t worry about being all proper and junk,” Spatlas mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes. “In fact she almost acts like a...” He stopped eating for a moment to scratch his head.

“Like a mother,” Lowbs finished his comrade’s thought. “In a figurative sense at least.” He reached for a cup of coffee and took a long drink before setting it back down.

“Yes, she does tend to do that. But it’s just in her training as a medic.” Cutter reminded the other privates. “She does a damn good job of patching anyone up when they need it. Fixed up my arm here when I got hit when I was doing operations over in the Urchins’ home territories.” The squad leader lifted up said arm to show off a shot wound on his forearm. He glanced back to Pan and gave her a reassuring nod to calm her nerves. She nodded back and quickly shoveled her breakfast up before taking her tin plate to a cleaning tub. One by one the others finished their meals and piled their dirty utensils and tins next to her.

“You got it covered Pan?” Spatlas joked as he gave the recruit a nudge on the shoulder.

“Y-yeah, I got it.” She replied to him, making an effort to keep her eyes trained on cleaning up the tins thoroughly. Hearing the privates laughing as they went to begin their assignments, she slowed her efforts to a crawl. Her mind was elsewhere as she barely held on to a tin plate and scrub. Is this really what I spent the last year training to do? She wondered. She could still remember when she first arrived at the Inkopolis Military Training Grounds, where she first met the heroes that saved the city from an imminent Octarian invasion. She even recalled shaking the hand of the leader of the Barracuda Brigade, Blitz Phalanx himself.She worked her rear off every day from then on to train as hard as her hero did, never stopping except to rest, eat, and sleep. When she finally completed her training she was almost dumbstruck when she found out that she was to be transferred to a far off sector of the county’s territories. Despite feeling disappointed that she wasn’t able to join a proper military unit, Pan shook her head to clear her head and swiftly washed everyone’s tins and utensils in record time. She left no plate, fork, or knife unchecked before storing them away in a storage crate. Feeling a lighter mood after her diligent work, Pan went off to meet up with her sergeant to receive her next task.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At a roadway checkpoint between the territories of Calamari County and the Octarian Lands...

”Ugh, this is so lame...” A border guard groaned, leaning against his tiny toll booth. He tried, for the past several hours or so, to alleviate his pseudo-dire circumstance from organizing and reorganizing the folders and files in his floor box, counting the amount of money in his booth’s cash register, and even cleaning the outside windows despite their tendency to get coated with sand and dust. The guard even tried to count the vehicles that passed through the gateway between the two countries. “I’m stuck in this goddamn post doing nothing but counting cars and collecting cash.” He looked towards the Octarians’ side of the border and saw the same sight as always: a barren landscape with piles of scrap metal and junk littering the scene. He then looked to the other side and saw a completely different picture: green rolling hills with small bushels of flora as well as small outlets off-shooting from the main highway that led to various pit stops and towns. He wished that something, anything, would make his day more exciting-

“What the...?” He glanced over to the Octarians’ side of the border and noticed a change he hadn’t caught a few moments before. He eyed a particularly suspicious pile that he swore was about 10 meters to the right. Along with the slight change in its position, the guard also saw a faint glimmer coming from the top of the pile. He tried to squint to see what it could be, but the next thing he knew he felt a sudden hard hit on the back of his head. He fell to the ground in a daze, his vision blurred from the blunt force trauma, and took a moment to see a group of figures circling him.

“That should keep the security here quiet.” He heard a voice as his vision began to black out.

“Yep. Now to the inkling outpost...” Was the last he heard before he went unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Back at Baker Battlement...)

The squad of inklings within the small bunker were hard at work tidying up before the arrival of Blitz’s secondary. Rollpin and Spatlas were busy de-gunking the sensors that bordered the bunker, Lowb and Pan were off in the sleeping quarters cleaning up the bunks, and Cutter evaluating inventory (or rather the lack of inventory). The first two made quick work on the sensors, the simple task of pulling out the barometers and shaking the sand out, before returning to grab a quick cold one. The second pair took longer with the bunk cleaning, but nonetheless cleared out all the dust, dirt, and debris hiding in the nooks and crannies of each sleeping mat. Finally Cutter was counting the last of the base’s meager supplies: a single filled ink tank for each of them, 2 tank cans for the bunker’s light machine gun, and rations for another 2-3 days if they have to get resourceful.

“Alright, just gotta make sure I get what we’re lacking written down.” He scribbled a few notes onto a clipboard and proceeded out of the supply cache. He took a look around and let his gaze stop at the border checkpoint. He reached for a pair of small binoculars and looked to the small booth. Despite the mild sandstorm blowing around the base he could make out the border guard sitting at his post. Good, he’s still doing his job. Cutter went back to finishing up his task and locked up the cache before meeting up with the other 4. Once inside he saw that everyone but Pan was enjoying a few bottles of Juddweiser and Heinekraken beer.

“Enjoying some drinks eh privates?” Cutter remarked as he walked past the preoccupied troopers. The trio stuttered at first but regained their composure as they watched their squad leader open the cooler containing the refreshments and pulled out a bottle himself. He popped the cap and chugged a few gulps down before taking a seat next to the drinkless inkling girl. “Can’t be mad when you guys have my favorite!”

“Oh please sir,” Spatlas scoffed. “Everyone knows that Heinekraken is only a cheap knock-off to the light and airy feel to Juddweiser!”

“Oh yeah?” Lowbs gave his comrade a light tap on the shoulder. “At least Heinekraken sounds like a proper beer, rather than the drink that sounds like it came from Judd’s unmentionables!” Rollpin and Cutter chuckled gleefully at the joke, even managing to get Pan to giggle as well as she watched her squadmates continue on bickering about their preferred alcoholic beverage. She relaxed her shoulders and felt a weight lifting off herself as she heard the conversation change every so often, from the current leading teams of Ranked and League tournaments to the finer things like their lives back home in Inkopolis: Cutter wishing to get back to his wife and newborn of 3 months, Rollpin wanting to get his dream job as a professional bowler, Lowbs looking forward to finishing his last tour of duty as the base’s defender, and Spatlas... he never gave a clear answer during the conversation. Something about eggs...?

Just as the group were finishing up their drinks and talks, they heard a radio crackle behind them.

“Come on Baker Battlement. This is Lieutenant Nhan-Tu radioing in.”

Cutter set aside his empty bottle and stood up to reach the radio. “This is Sergeant Cutter, we hear you loud and clear Lieutenant.”

“Good, are you ready for the convoy to resupply?”

“Yes ma’am, we are awaiting your arrival.”

“Copy that, we’ll meet with you in approximately 5 minutes.”

“5 minutes, understood. Baker Battlement, out.”

Cutter shut down the radio and turned to his squad. “Alright, that was Lieutenant Nhan-Tu. She’ll be making her approach to the base very soon. Make your way outside and await her arrival!” He motioned a hand to them, enforcing his orders. The rest nodded to their squad leader and hastily grabbed their gear before racing outside. I sure hope things will just play out as usual...

#Splatoon #Splatoon 2 #Splatoon stories #Prologue to...?#MY OCs #Cutter #Rollpin #Spatlas #Lowbs #Pan

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shantalangel · 3 years

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Stories written on the wall of one of the rooms in the game Armikrog.

It’s about everything happened before the game, P’s parents life, how they met and how she appeared.

Reading sequence:

The Blank Miner. Part 1

The Blank Miner. Part 2

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

A Meeting in the Woods

Punishment and Crime. Part 1

Punishment and Crime. Part 2

Punishment and Crime. Part 3

Desperation

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

I found myself on a military base. The surface design was stark and open, leaving me few places to hide. The suns were just starting to rise, and with the forest over a mile away in any direction, I had no choice but to find a quiet building in which to hide and perhaps, get some sleep.

There were over fifty buildings, some teeming with activity, and others unused. I cracked the door of the closest building that seemed unoccupied, and went inside. The interior was dark. The room had row upon row of shelving; the only light came in through the opaque windows that let in a faint orange haze from the rising suns. Nobody could see through those windows.

I smelled food! This was not the mere gruel we were served in the blank mines; these were special items that were probably reserved for top-ranking military personnel.

I found the makings for a Chip-butty on the shelf. There were slices of bread, scrap gleaned from a fryer and deep-fried roots, ready to be combined. There were slices of dried, degreased cheese backed on flattened dough. It was stored on top of a big bowl of Kompot smothered in Camonadiac Curry. There was a bowl of guacamole made of Manocado and the usual boxes of Wexarodujo, and someone’s dried pet Benjamin Bango.

A tin can sported a green beard. I put this can in my pocket. When steeped properly, dried Spykle’s Beard mold makes an excellent tea. There was a slight glow cast across the shelf by Frotz-o-matic Elixir of Self-Illumination. I did not want to glow in the dark, so I left that on the shelf. I also chose to leave the gavno untouched. It is always good not to touch gavno, especially when it is cold.

A medicine cabinet held Groboh Juice, and while I could use some short term invisibility just about now, it was against my code of conduct to use a product created by the Groboh regime. I picked up a bottle of Minocent’s Majesty but it was empty. Just my luck. I placed a NummyNum towel on my forehead to quickly bring a little peace and comfort to my nerves. When I leaned my head against the shelf, I knocked over a potion of Palinka. Not really my thing, so I left the bottle where it fell. I took some Kayla medicine that helped my aching feet.

Further into the building, I heard the scuttle of animals in cages. Each animal had wires protruding from their body. At the time I didn't know why, but I'm sure now the wires were probably used to harvest the diverse animal energy. There was a Denrus, a Feure Katze (an orange, cat, useful for distraction in battle), a mated pair of Gelletsaur, and a Jivtone. A Novimus (also known as Novi) looked cuddly enough but didn’t trust me enough to let me pet it. One cage held a tiny, three eared rabbit and it was labeled Johnny Horse. A rusty cage held a Hungry Grumplin, and an elusive white-tufted bed devil. A wiry, dog-sized Soph-Soph ran in circles in his cage while a Flat Faced Tentacle Mane Cephala Kraken blinked his lazy eye. A spring-powered servant, called Judith Butler fed the inhabitants of the cages.

One animal was labeled Artimenius, and there were burn marks along the door of its enclosure. Next to it was a caged feral moon cat, who kept howling, "I am Oscarina!" There was a neglected cage of animals called Shtutnik, Waga Shnaga and Ramy. They looked malnourished, so I threw handfuls of food in with them.

I realized how bright the room had grown with the rising of the suns. If anyone came into this building, it would be hard to hide. I needed to find a place to hide, and sleep until nightfall. I pulled down a painting of a black hole, and set it on a Magnificently Monotone Mandolin. When I lifted the painting the triple M was gone. But there was enough space cleared on the shelf for me to lay down. I squeezed onto the shelf. A tool belt hung down hiding me. It had a Cheesefork, a Koolspott, an Eye of Asterion, an old Hobbyhox, two MacGuffins, an Oily Flogskin Croak and a Panic Button.

My eyes drooped closed, and I dreamed of a digital Renzim Set. In my dreams, I could see a floating Spatlas. Space never looked more broad and full of adventure than in that deep sleep-state. It was as if I was l looking at the altered light of an R.G. Ba’bomb. I found a pile of dirt and started digging with a Tectonic Universal Extractor (T.U.E.). Though I was speaking, my words were not being heard by anyone. It was like I was speaking into a Talebox, or perhaps I had been hit with a Procrastinator Ray. My hands were as cold as the Seventh Ring of Eureka, so I used a Tinderkrog to warm them. A Zugguz took me back in time thirty seconds, but I was just back to digging in the dirt . Something came down on my head with a loud SNAP! I reached out my dream hand and stopped a stick from hitting me again. I read the carving in the stick’s bark, "Derpal the Oddly Shaped Stick of 823 3/7 Whacks." This was weird because it only hit me once, and it did not appear to be very oddly shaped. This was turning into a less than stellar dream. I used an Ellerd to smack myself in the face and wake up.

When I awoke from my blissful slumber, the suns were going down. The room was taking on a cooler hue. I crawled out from the shelf. I reached into my pocket and felt the sock with The Abominate’s finger. I considered taking more weapons from the building. There were Karschtongs, a Marader (my axe fighting is terrible), a Novus Shield, an Obsrigillaton, a Sandwich Bazooka (I will regret not picking this up if I ever need to kill a sandwich), The Repulsive Shield and a Yarborough. None of these weapons could do what The Abominate’s severed finger could do in an instant.

Under cover of darkness, I left the warehouse, running from building to building toward the woods. Soldiers came in by hovercraft, then left again. The air was abuzz with frustration and panic. What they were looking for was missing. I knew this because what they were looking for was in my helmet.

Alone on the Outside

At the outskirts of the base, there were guards at one hundred foot intervals. Some had needle weapons strapped to their hands; others had rifles. There was no way I could make it around them without a confrontation. I gripped the sock housing The Abominate’s finger, and walked casually up to the closest guard. When he saw me, he leveled his rifle at me.

"Do not come any closer." He grunted.

"I have orders from Jockson Reckson." I said, holding up my hands.

The other guards turned to see what the commotion was about.

The guard didn't believe me, but it was as good of an excuse as I could think of on such short notice. I could see the woods just beyond. It would be the perfect place to hide. If I could make it into the woods, I would be free.

I yelled at him, "You must listen to me right now!" A bluff only works if you're completely committed to it.

The guard shined a bright light on my face, "You’re a miner? I need to see your identification."

I threw the finger sock to him and he caught it.

"What is this?"

"My identification." I replied.

He opened the sock and stuck his hand inside. I was already running toward him when he went limp and fell to the ground. The surrounding guards were confused at the moment so I scooped up the finger sock and ran for the trees.

The rest of the guards snapped into action. Bullets and darts shot past me, but their hesitation was enough for me to reach the tree line before any of them could take good aim. I reached the first tree and slid into the perfect darkness of its shadow.

"Fan out! After him!"

I pressed deeper into the woods, switching my headlamp on to light my way, then off to hide. Behind me, I could hear the soldiers coming.

I ran into a clearing, and nearly over the edge of a deep ravine. At its edge, I skidded to a stop. Behind me, there was already the sound of the soldiers approaching. I pulled the purple fuzz-ball, still beating, from my helmet and tucked it into my pocket. Then I threw the headlamp off the cliff and into the ravine. It was far enough down that the light was just visible, but the helmet itself could not be seen.

I ran to the left, along the ravine’s edge, over waist high scrub brush, and a few boulders. Most of our people were right handed. We wrote from left to right, so I hoped the soldiers would think I went to the right. Without the headlamp, I could easily have fallen into another ravine, but I was counting on luck this time. I only had a few seconds before the guards would come into the clearing, and I would have to move in silence.

Two guards broke into the clearing, and I dropped to the ground. I froze on all fours, watching them stop at the ravine’s edge and look over the side at the helmet lamp’s light below. My lungs were dying for air, but I had to breath slowly to keep from being heard. The first one said, "Did he fall? That light’s not moving."

I was crawling away from them as the second guard said, "He either fell or he’s trying to get us to think he fell."

They decided that if I fell, I would be too injured to get away. So they fanned out to search the area in case I had not fallen. The soldiers may not have been fooled by my trick but they didn’t have the confidence of their convictions on their hunt. They did not confirm that I did not fall, yet it gnawed in the back of their mind that I might yet be down there. Still, they had lamps and I did not. They split up, the first guard heading away from me to their left, the second right toward me.

On my belly, in the grass, I waited for the second guard to pass by. As he clunked through the grass he scared up insects and chipmunks who ran ahead of him. Just as he passed me, I hopped up and touched the back of his neck with the finger. He dropped silently to the ground. I stayed down low hoping to get out of the clearing and back into the cover of wood. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and it was practically bright compared to the darkness I was used to in the mines.

In the silence of those woods, every tree creak, every blade of grass that turned in a slight breeze could be heard. Yet I did not hear the hoof beats of the hulking white stag that stood before me! Jockson Reckson described this beast as a monster. It was The Eelk, a mythical creature that has evaded hunters for a generation. He had a huge rack of horns but he did not have fur like other Eelk. He had shiny, scaled skin that made him repulsive to his own kind. There is some supernatural way inside him that produces bolts of electricity when he finds another of his kind that he likes. Therfore, he cannot find love. He cannot find friendship. His family had to abandon him. He was the great symbol of broken hearts and by the looks of him, was a powerful creature not to be trifled with.

The Eelk bowed his head to me. The horns came down to my face and I could see tiny pops and ripples of electricity web between the spikes. I can’t explain how I knew this, but he was seeking revenge on Jockson Reckson. He intended to break the heart of my ex-boss. The Eelk turned and lept into the woods as if to have me follow. As soon as he disappeared into the dark I could hear the clamoring of more guards enter the clearing behind me.

There were three guards, they ran to the ravine, then fanned out. One tripped on the body of the first guard and called out to the others. I dove into a pile of leaves, burying myself in them. It would have been a terrible hiding place in the daylight, but in the darkness of night it would suffice. They all took off in the wrong direction, assuming they were on my trail.

Once the sound of their receding footsteps grew silent, I crawled out of the pile of leaves and continued to the right, after The Eelk, deeper into the woods.

It was then, in that darkness, that I was seized by a terrible loneliness. Truly, I was no more free stumbling through those woods than I had been in the mine. The image of Meva came back to me, but it was not a comfort to me. My heart was sick. Nobody loved me and I loved no one. I had seen hog-dogs that were more loved than I.

Would I ever know love?

Someone save me. Find me. Love me.

#armikrog #armikrog game #armikrog stories #armikrog lore #armikrog story #neverhood #the neverhood #neverhood 2

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