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mommy-medusa · 3 years

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Medusa’s Child

First chapter of Medusa’s Child! I’m posting this just as a test to see if y’all like it!

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She was first alerted of a presence by an uneven splashing against the nearby shore.

It was the early evening, and the sun was at its best point in the sky, raining down on Sarpedon in just the right way to make her scales light with painless flames. She stretched out on her branch, pressing her bare belly up to the warm rays. Her tail flicked lazily while her mane of snakes hissed and tugged in the direction of the noises. She swatted a clawed hand at them.

“Let him come,” Medusa murmured in a husky, languid voice, not bothering to open her eyes. “You know he won’t stand a chance anyway.” She ran her black talons down her exposed breasts and stomach, chuckling deeply. “He may as well die with the image of a beautiful woman in his mind. We can give him that, at least.”

There were mixed reactions from her snakes, some spats of disapproval, some hisses of agreement, but they all coiled back down into quietness. Or, as quiet as a head full of serpents could be.

Compared to other creatures across the land, Medusa had a remarkably good childhood if she did say so herself. Her parents were the ferocious Ceto and cold Phorcys, ancient sea gods that kept the ocean seething with their monstrous children.

Phorcys was a grey-haired, fish-tailed mountain of a man, with rough red, spiky crustacean skin and huge crab claws that were strong enough to snap off the head of any mortal man that approached his territory. He was faster than any sea creature and stronger than any current in the existing waters. He could create a tsunami big enough to drown Greece with one splash of his mighty tail.

Ceto was quite possibly more terrifying than her father, however. She was a fair maiden with shiny, unblemished ivory skin she never covered up and long, wavy black hair that floated like Kraken tentacles in the water around her. Her eyes were green and sharp enough to cut through obsidian, and her voice was booming enough to crack the earth and drain the entire ocean. She was as venomous as her animal creations, but she taught Medusa discipline and respect at a very young age.

Together, the two of them brought forth a myriad of devilish children. Ekhidna, a dangerous she-dragon with the head and breasts of a beautiful woman and the body of a coiling serpent; Scylla, a giant crab that ate sailors; Ladon, a dragon with one hundred head; the Graiai, three grey hags that shared one tooth and one eye; and the Gorgons, a trio of women with the bodies of serpents and hair made of living, venomous snakes.

Medusa was a part of the final group. Which was the best, for the record.

Medusa and her two sisters were born on a dark day, where the sky seethed with storm and the sea seemed to wrath against its gods. Through crashing waves and spitting sea foam, Ceto dredged her soaked, swollen body from the hissing water and into a cave where it was dry. The tide tried to chase her, nipping at her heels like desperate piranhas, but could not chase her all the way up the sand.

Within the cave, the pelting rain and howling gales were muffled by thick stone. Droplets of water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling like dozens of monster fangs. Small tidepools were laid across the ground like traps, seemingly existing to trip Ceto and make her crash down onto her thick belly. But she managed to avoid them, hissing strings of curses to the starfish and crabs and tiny fish that thrived within the wet sinkholes before collapsing to the ground, powerful cramps rippling through her body.

There, Ceto gave birth in the eye of a raging hurricane, her monstrous children writhing out of her womb, clawing and scratching for the world outside of her body.

Stheno was first, born thrashing and hissing and brimming with rage the moment she came out. She was a thin little thing, but her blood red tail whipped around with enough power to crumble mountains. Her crimson mane of snakes sprung to life instantly, fangs flashing, hissing so loud they challenged the whirlwind outside the cave. The scales upon her head and face made it look like she was permanently stained in mortal blood, and the boar tusks curling out from her mouth looked wickedly sharp. Mere moments after being born, she had lunged at a tidepool and ripped apart a small crab with bronze claws, devouring it in just a few snaps of her powerful jaws.

Euryale came next, sliding out in a slick of fluids and screaming so loud she threatened to bring the whole cave down on top of them. Her white and yellow tail lashed as she cried, sending clumps of wet sand flinging through the air. The mane of snakes upon her skull, which had red snouts that looked like they had been dipped in blood, wailed with her, strange, raspy sounds that vibrated through the air like static electricity. There were small horn nubs protruding from her forehead, which had explained the pain when she was coming out. Stheno tackled her, whacking their tails together, and began wrestling with her.

Finally, out came Medusa, green scales shiny and new-looking. The first thing she remembered was seeing her eldest sister chewing on her second eldest sister’s tail. She had blinked her golden yellow eyes at them, flicking her own emerald green tail like she was expecting something to be attached to it. And then, she was lifted up and she saw a beautiful woman gazing down at her. Her mane of snakes snapped at the long black hair cascading down onto her belly.

“What peculiar little beast you all are,” She remembered her mother rumbling. Ceto scooped up Stheno and Euryale and held all three sisters in front of her. “And what slayers you will all be, indeed.”

And she was right.

Medusa’s childhood passed by in a blur of mortal blood and seawater. Her mother taught her how to strike fear into mortal men. Her father taught her how to swim and fly when all of their wings eventually grew in. And her sisters taught her to hide her prey or else it would get stolen.

She was raised in the darkest reaches of the ocean depths, where granite tunnels formed interlocking caves and caverns below the rolling waves. While most children grew up raising family goats and playing with dolls made of straw, Medusa and her sisters grew up taming sea monsters and playing hide-and-seek with venomous lionfish. They created crags of coral along the seafloor with their eyes alone and swept through the ocean currents on scaled wings. When they would go up to the surface, they watched the mortals in their wooden vessels, laughing at the way they attempted to overpower the waves that rocked them mercilessly.

That was when they discovered their deadly eye power.

Medusa was a monstrous teenager, floating along the ocean’s surface, when Stheno presented the idea to her.

“Swim into their nets and pretend to be dead,” Her older sister had said. Sunlight glinted off her blood red scales. When she smiled, her teeth were like a shark’s. “When they pull you up, give them a scare.”

Medusa gave a laugh. The only thing better than observing a mortal’s stupidity was causing the mortal’s stupidity by interacting with them. Of course, she agreed.

She swam into one of the large nets drifting beneath the boat, startling off a cloud of slippery grey-blue fish. She let herself get tangled up in its loops, tugging on the ropes enough to alert the sailors. After a few moments, the net began to rise, and she faintly heard the giggling of her sister’s vibrating through the water.

Cool sea air hit her bare skin; a series of gasps exploded throughout the vessel. The rough feeling of wood chafed against the scales on her exposed back as the net was dropped into the boat. She struggled to keep in the giggles and play dead as loud murmurs whisked around her.

The men were wondering what she was, asking themselves how they managed to wrangle up a thing. One of them poked her tail with something pointy and she almost flinched, but managed to tighten her muscles and stay still.

And then, there was a hand grabbing her breast.

The man above her purred out something about her being beautiful and warm and the others should “give it a try.”

Her eyes snapped open wide. She ogled the man above her in shock and fear and disgust; he was a scruffy and flabby creature with hungry eyes and crooked yellow teeth. His hand remained on her breast as they locked gazes, and then his face did something strange.

It twitched. And his eyes went weirdly blank. And he sucked in a harsh breath.

The man’s entire body jerked like his soul was trying to claw its way out of his back. His brown eyes bulged and rolled wildly in his skull, and Medusa could see grey spreading rapidly over the eye balls.

Stone began to march across the man’s flesh like a swarm of fire ants. He tried to scratch it off, but his nails bounced right off. His movements quickly began to stiffen as whatever came over him took hold.

His chest froze solid first, then his hands and feet, his ears, his arms and legs, all the way to his throat. His eyes were no longer brown, rather blank grey. His greasy blonde hair did not sway in the cool breeze. His mouth was open, teeth blunted by rock, and twisted in an agonized expression. One hand was extended outward to his crewmates in a final gesture of desperation.

The man had been turned to stone.

The other mortals on the boat began to frenzy. Some ran away in fear, others brandished their weapons, but they, too, met the ill fate of their crewmate. One stare and they hardened into a statue against their will.

Stheno and Euryale had been alerted by the noise and they flew up to the ship. Both of them looked shocked at what was going on.

“What is happening?” Euryale asked.

“I-- I don’t know.” Medusa replied, slowly sitting up. She was absurdly confused at what was going on. “I turned them to stone.”

“How?” Stheno demanded.

“I looked at them.”

“Hm.” Stheno lashed out at a fleeing young man and flared her giant red wings open, essentially trapping him. Medusa heard a short scream, and then silence. When her sister pulled back, the man was frozen in an encasing of stone.

The discovery of their power sparked great fear across the land, but amazement inside Medusa and her sisters. Stheno used it the most, killing more men than Medusa and Euryale combined. She kept her favorite statues in her lair as trophies, adorning them with her jewels and other treasures.

Euryale rarely ever killed, not because she didn’t like it, but because she never went out of her way to go around mortals. She rather watch them from afar, observing their strange hive mind mentality.

Medusa was a mix between the two. Sometimes she would simply stay away, other times she liked to see how dumb mortal men were when she came across them.

When they eventually came of age, the three sisters ventured off from the darkness of their homeland sea. Medusa went to an island called Sarpedon, claiming it as her own domain. Mortal men saw it as an arena, however, and often sailed to her home to challenge her. It wasn’t long before her island was filled with the statues of foolish men, decorating her gardens with the trophies of her success.

And another was about to be added to the collection.

There were crashes through her jungle; the stupid man was romping through her home and disturbing her nap!

Sighing, Medusa uncoiled her elegantly long body from the tree branch and carefully climbed down the trunk. Her emerald green scales and lucious brown skin shimmered in the sunlight filtering down from the canopy of leaves up above, dewdrops from the condensation of her garden sliding like melted diamonds down her tail. She slithered through the weeds, passing by ruined pillars and petrified statues, all of which were swathed with moss and vines. She admired them as she went by, as she always did, as she always would. It was quite lonely on her island, but she rather be alone than have the company of a man.

A spray of bright yellow birds exploded from the trees when she came slithering by. Sharp-tusked creatures of fur darted in and out of the bushes, poised and waiting to flee while they watched her. The boars always liked to test her. Perhaps that was what made them so delicious. The looks on their faces when she managed to snatch one and scarf them down was priceless.

There was rustling near the bay. Medusa pricked one of her pointed ears while her mane of venomous snakes hissed in alertness. She smacked the nose of one of them to quiet them down and then went after her prey.

“Hello?” She called out in a purr. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

Emerging from the lush underbrush, Medusa set her eyes on the small wooden boat bobbing slowly in the waves that splashed upon her shore. Even through the cracking of seawater and crackle of forest fronds behind her, she could hear small noises emitting from the vessel. A smirk came upon her face, flashing her fangs into the sun.

Medusa flicked her ears and slithered out onto the beach. A bright red crab saw her coming and darted into the splashing waves to hide. A mere crustacean was the least of her concern right now, though. She could eat later.

Right now, she had bigger prey to catch.

Nobody fled from the boat as she approached it, which she found odd. Usually the men ran towards her or at least away from her, none of them ever lied still like an animal in a trap, waiting for her to end their pathetic existence.

Well. At least it made her job easier. Rushing through the jungle wasn’t exactly her favorite pastime.

“Here we go, ladies,” Medusa whispered to her snakes, earning a harmony of eager hisses.

Medusa sprang up to the boat, claws raised and brandished, fangs bared, wings flared out to their full size. Her snakes swelled up and hissed loudly, mouths loaded with potent venom. Her bright yellow eyes were flashing, ready to strike this man into stone, and--

--and she froze.

There was no man in this vessel.

It was a woman.

She was a mangy, bedraggled mortal, with matted brown hair, agonized amber eyes, and mud-slathered ashy skin. But upon closer inspection, Medusa realized that it wasn’t mud at all, it was blood. And the woman was absolutely dripping in it thanks to the giant gash across her belly, along with numerous other cuts from swords and holes from arrows. In her bony arms, she clutched a tiny bundle swathed in sheep’s wool to her heaving chest.

“I apologize over intruding, fair lady,” Croaked the woman, her voice thick with her own blood. “You do have to understand my dilemma. I am afraid I cannot leave, though…there is not much time left for me anyway.” She coughed, and the wound across her abdomen strained so much that Medusa was surprised all her guts didn’t come bursting out. “I made it this far. Wrapping my wounds, washing them out with saltwater in a vain attempt to combat infection. But I am afraid my breast milk must taste like blood. And nothing will matter anyway. They treat us like SLAVES. Breeding cows owned by our husband. I had to kill him! I couldn’t let him arrange MY BABY--” A coughing fit consumed her, and blood gushed from her mouth as if her aorta had been severed. “I had to… I had to…”

Medusa was still. Not even her snakes were snapping or hissing, instead bobbing silently around her head. They, too, were stunned at the outpour of emotions spilling out at them.

The woman craned her head around slowly. When her body spasmed as if it had been shocked, Medusa knew the stone curse had taken hold. And yet, the mortal smiled.

“You…” She rasped. The curse always started in the chest and spread like a wildfire throughout the rest of the body; her lungs were rapidly being devoured by stone. “You are no monster…”

Medusa reared back slightly. If this stranger willingly meeting her gaze wasn’t strange enough, then that certainly was. Medusa knew better than anything that she was a monster, it was what her mother taught her.

“I didn’t expect the man-slayer to be so beautiful,” The woman went on. She pulled the wool-swaddled bundle from her chest and held it out as dark grey marched across her skin. “Well, Medusa, killer of men…now’s your chance to show the cosmos what you truly are.”

The woman’s entire body froze, locked in an eternal casing of stone. She wouldn’t be in pain any longer, for her gaping wounds had been filled in with granite. In her petrified grey hands, rested the bundle.

Medusa carefully peered over the wrapping of wool and to the tiny baby resting within it, undisturbed by the ill fate of its mother.

For a long moment, only the crashing of waves and distant sound of island fauna filled the beach. The crab from earlier came cautiously creeping out of the wet sand, but bolted the moment it saw Medusa move to scoop up the little mortal.

It had to be only a few months old, if mortals were anything like her and her sisters. She was now wishing she had studied humans as much as Euryale had. She had no idea if it was supposed to be this light or small or what gender it even was. What she did know, however, was that it was very, very white, as if it had never been in the sun before. She also noticed the tufts of ashy brown hair on its head and the constellation of freckles swirling across its chubby cheeks. Unfortunately, she was unable to see its eyes, as she had to whip her gaze away when its eyelids began to flutter.

Medusa stared intensely at a cluster of seaweed-tangled driftwood as the baby in her arms began to make little noises while it woke up. It shifted in its wool blankets, sending small tremors through Medusa’s arms, but then Medusa realized that was just from her own trembling.

What was she going to do with this thing? She couldn’t bring herself to gaze into its innocent eyes and infect its helpless body with cold stone. She couldn’t leave it to be eaten by the animals on her island, either. And she DEFINITELY couldn’t raise it herself, and yet…

Medusa held the baby to her chest and felt its soft cheek press against her skin. Its pasty flesh was warm against her own, and she couldn’t help but cuddle it closer. One of her snakes made a low hiss.

“You will say nothing.” Medusa warned as she turned and went back into the forest.

Medusa began slithering through the dense brambles and interlocking thickets of lianas. The tangled trees seemed to be reaching for her and her mortal straggler with long trailing roots and branches like skeletal fingers snarled together overhead to create a canopy of sorts. Sunlight filtered in from above, casting pale yellow spots across the large boulders and ruined pillars dotting the foliage. They were all huge and just lied around like the remnants of an ancient landslide. A few packed together tightly against a tall fjord of earth, creating a rocky corridor of sorts. There was another path to get to the other side, beneath a log suspended in the air by two crags and through some weeds, but Medusa decided the crevice would be easier to traverse with the child she was holding.

Walking through the passageway felt like she was getting a hug from the Gaia herself. It was a slight squeeze to go through, she had to hunch her shoulders in to keep them from scraping against the walls, but it felt worth it for the sake of saving time.

Yellow and purple flowers were blooming from vines etched in the moss-matted bedrock on either side of her. Orange and green and amber were streaked through the rock walls, glowing beneath streams of water that glittered like melted pearls from a spring somewhere up above. Specks of sunlight bleeding in through the canopy above would hit the stone’s tears in just the right way to set them off in radians of iridescent and silver. The deep emerald moss was fluffy beneath Medusa’s fingers when she tentatively touched the patches. Ahead, she then saw braids of vine dangling down from a long, reaching branch that had itself draped over one of the boulders. When she pushed through the curtain, she was met with a small clearing full of scattered trees that broke down and folded into a field of rock crags that bordered a glistening river.

Medusa walked through the grass and down onto the shoreline. Most of the bay there were shallows that have leaked into the openings between stony ridges risen from the ground. She shivered as she waded through the water, feeling the cold jolt through her scales. She clambered up the first rock she could reach as fast as she could, doing her best to not splash the delicate cargo she was holding.

Medusa had to traverse the rock formations carefully. Usually she jetted across them, but now she had a fragile mortal baby in her arms. She didn’t want to accidentally trip and be sent sprawling onto the little one.

As she crossed over a fallen log that allowed access to the other side of the river that fed into the ocean and to the dense jungle bordering the shore, a dark green and yellow, blobby frog croaked from in a pool of bubbling mud, then bobbled at them with its big yellow eyes. Medusa’s mane of snakes hissed in a chorus and the frog nearly keeled over dead as it scrambled back into the depths of the mud. Medusa chuckled, then shifted the baby closer to her bosom when it squirmed.

“I’m sorry, little one,” She said. “Hang on for a little longer. We aren’t very far.”

Through the vines and under the branches she went until Medusa broke into her gardens.

It was the greenest part of all of Sarpedon, bursting with flora and fauna alike. Pillars from fallen ancient ruins dotted the area, forming ledges and small places to hide when it would rain. One of the temples was just barely still intact, though overgrown with flowers and plants. Medusa always thought it was an eyesore in the midst of all her nature, but now that she was looking at it, she thought it would make a brilliant home for a child.

“Urrg,” She shook her head wildly, causing her snakes to hiss in shock at being jostled. “Stupid.”

She set the child down on some flowers and began to pace throughout her gardens. She tried not to listen to the whimpers and hiccups up the baby, tried not to look over at it in fear of getting too attached to something she knew she could not keep, tried to stop herself from rushing back over and scooping it into her arms once again because she felt like it belonged there.

“What was needed to summon her again?” Medusa muttered to herself. She looked at her snakes. “Palm trees, right?”

The snakes seemed just as clueless as she was.

“It was palm trees. But hopefully palm leaves will do because I am not cutting down an entire tree for this.”

She did, however, end up hacking off a large piece of palm back on the beach, all for something she definitely did not care about or want to keep. She forced herself to stare at the fire as she burned the husk and fronds of a palm tree. When the flames grew high enough, she took a breath and spread her wings to the sky.

“Leto, mighty Titanides, goddess of motherhood, bearer of Artemis and Apollo, lend me your aid. Receive my call, for I need you.”

For a moment, all was silent, and Medusa almost felt embarrassed for even trying such a measly summoning, and then the fire crackled and sparked, and a body formed out from the smoke.

Medusa had forgotten just how massive the Titans were. Leto was as tall as the trees, and as sturdily built as one, too, especially for someone who was known solely for giving birth for nine days straight.

Swathed in emerald green robes that were inlaid with silver and gold weaving patterns, Leto now stood before Medusa. Her wavy brown hair floated weightlessly around her head, as if she, too, had a living, writhing mane upon her scalp. Her eyes were a deep, piercing yellow-green color, seeming to drill into Medusa. Around her neck she wore the red-brown fur of a weasel as if it were a scarf and a sun and moon pendant, most likely in remembrance of her children. When she spoke, her voice was deeper than Medusa expected, but also sounded like molten honey that was slathering gold.

“It has been a long time since I was called upon,” The Titan rumbled. The faint golden glow around her faded and her hair was released from whatever had been suspending it in the air, causing it to flow elegantly down her shoulders. She smiled faintly down at Medusa. “I certainly did not expect it to be from you.”

Medusa flicked her tail and gathered herself up to her full size, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to measure up to Leto’s height. “I have a problem.” She said, then turned to the baby lying a few feet away and picked it up. “This.”

“Oh my,” Leto said, peering down at the child. She delicately scooped it up when Medusa held it out to her. “A strange situation you’ve gotten yourself into, indeed.”

“It’s not mine,” Medusa said. “A woman washed ashore. She’s--she’s dead now, but she had a child with her. That child. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“She.”

“What?”

Leto looked up from having unraveled the baby’s blankets and smiled softly at Medusa. “It’s a girl.”

It took everything in Medusa to keep her tail from wagging like a damn hound. A girl! She was so happy it was a girl! She didn’t think she could handle a male.

Wait-- what was she saying? She couldn’t handle either male or female. She couldn’t keep such a thing!

Leto pushed aside one of the overlapping covers of fabric on her robes and held the baby to her breast. She gave a soft laugh when the infant seemed to latch onto the nipple instantly and began to suckle greedily.

“What a hungry little beast you have here, Medusa,” She said.

“I already said she’s not mine.”

Leto furrowed her eyebrows at her. “You aren’t going to keep her?”

Medusa actually laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I would not joke in the name of a child, Medusa.” Leto said firmly. Medusa wouldn’t lie that she was slightly intimidated by how hard her voice had become.

“No, I’m not going to keep her, Leto.”

“But you want to?”

“I do not! Why would I ever want to raise such a fiend?”

“Because you’re lonely.”

Medusa was taken aback. She coiled her tail in close around her, glaring at the dirt as if it had wronged her for bringing the child to her shore and making her feel all these stupid, conflicting emotions.

“I am not.” She growled.

“You’re getting defensive,” Leto pointed out.

“Because you’re bothering me!” Medusa blustered, flaring her wings up. She turned away sharply, whacking Leto’s ankle with her tail. “Go. Take the creature with you. I don’t want to see it.”

All was quiet for a moment, and Medusa actually got the sick sensation that Leto had listened to her, but then she heard the crunching of grass beneath bare feet and saw Leto circle around to be in front of her. The Titan kneeled on her knees before her, still holding the baby to her breast. Medusa couldn’t help but glance at it several times in what she could only describe as longing.

“Medusa, how long has it been since you’ve interacted with another person?” Leto asked. “Not counting your sisters, of course.”

Medusa refused to look at her. “Why does it matter? I can’t keep--”

“How long,” Leto repeated with the same firm voice from before, “has it been?”

“I don’t know.” Medusa answered through her teeth. “Forever? It’s always been my sisters, Mother, and Father. No one else.” She clenched her claws until they drove into the tender green scales on her palms. “There can be--no one else.”

Leto frowned. “And why is that?”

“You know why.” Medusa said bitterly. “Don’t play dumb, Leto. I know the Titans are smarter than that. It doesn’t take Athena to know why I can’t be around people.”

“I’m afraid I do understand why.”

“So why are you even asking me this?” Medusa looked up at her, yellow eyes stinging with unbidden tears. If she had known the meeting with the Titan would be the equivalent to physical and psychological torture, she wouldn’t have even bothered in the first place.

“Because I wanted to prove my point.” Leto said calmly. “And I was right.”

“How?”

“You want someone.” Leto said as if it were perfectly obvious to everyone in the entire pantheon of gods. “You’re very lonely, Medusa. It doesn’t take Athena to figure that out, either.”

“I can’t.” Medusa whispered hoarsely.

“You can.”

“I can’t!” Medusa flared her wings at Leto and brandished her claws, flashing her teeth in the sun right as it began to fall from the sky, her snakes a chorus of hisses and snaps. But Leto was unfazed by her outburst.

“I will help you.” The Titan said patiently. She smiled down at the suckling baby in her arms. “After all, I don’t expect you to be able to feed her. And she still needs a name, you know. Did the mother tell you one?”

Medusa decided to ignore Leto. Perhaps that would finally end the wrenching anguish she was feeling.

“I like Aretha.” Leto went on, pleasantly not taking the hint Medusa was trying to give to her.

Medusa scoffed. “Aretha? Really?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the child.” Leto said, feigning her surprise. Medusa really wished she wouldn’t grin at her like she was.

“Nemesis is going to come curse you into the body of a cow or something if you keep exuding your hubris onto me.” Medusa said.

“Are you all full, Aretha?” Leto said to the baby, once again ignoring Medusa. She brushed the little girl’s face with a finger. “What pretty eyes you have.”

“Stop that.”

“You could strike an entire army dead with those eyes.” Leto continued. She smiled down at Medusa. “Just like your mother.”

Silence.

Medusa’s throat ached with pent up sobs. “Her mother is dead.” She growled.

“You’re her mother now.”

“I am not!”

Medusa whipped her head away quickly so Leto wouldn’t see the tears that came slipping free without her consent. She wiped them away harshly, accidentally cutting herself with her claws in the process, but she could hardly care. It could not measure up to the pain she was feeling from this awful interaction.

“I never should have called upon you,” She hissed.

“But you did.” Leto said, unfazed by the insult. “And now I am here and I am going to help you with this baby, Medusa. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

There was silence once again.

“I’m a monster, not a mother.” Medusa said, her voice wavering treacherously.

“If that were the case, then why is the baby still alive?”

“What?”

“If you truly were a monster, then you would have killed the baby on the spot. And not just by turning her to stone, you would have gutted her alive with your claws, ripped her tiny little head off, devoured her insides. That is what monsters do.” Leto’s stare seemed to pin Medusa to the ground. “And you, Medusa, are not a monster.”

Medusa swallowed thickly, trying to bury the emotions welling up inside of her like a volcano.

“What if I’m not the mother she needs?” She whispered. She felt like she was drowning. “I don’t think I can do what is needed of me.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. You’ve been so good with all of this so far. The only thing you can do is your best.”

“And if that isn’t enough?”

Leto looked into her eyes, her own so soft and caring, so patient even in the face of Medusa’s pessimistic attitude. “Then you’ll learn.”

Leto extended a hand and thumbed away a few fresh tears running down Medusa’s cheek. She smiled warmly at her.

“You’ll learn,” The Titan said again, this time softer.

Neither of them said anything after that for a long few minutes. Not until the baby began to coo softly, which made both of their gazes shift down to her. Leto pulled her hand away from Medusa’s face to brush the infant’s.

“Theodora.”

“What?” Leto looked back at Medusa.

“That’s going to be her name.” Medusa said. “Theodora. Teddi for short. Not Aretha.”

Leto smiled. “I knew you would come around.” She said. “Would you like to hold her?”

Medusa internally cursed herself for nodding so eagerly. However, as she extended her hands out to take the baby from Leto, she jerked back sharply, as if she had touched fire.

“I can’t look at her,” Medusa said. “I can’t look at my…”

Leto frowned, then looked down at the wriggling infant in her arms. A soft golden glow lit up in her eyes, and the baby’s did the same, causing her to coo at the sensation of godly powers now streaming through her veins. Leto then turned and gently pushed the little girl into Medusa’s arms.

“Leto, didn’t you hear me--”

“Look, Medusa.” Leto said. “Trust me. It will be okay.”

Medusa stared up at the Titan, then slowly brought her gaze down to the baby.

For the first time in her entire life, the flesh of a mortal did not harden to stone beneath her claws, and she was able to see the beautiful mossy green eyes her new daughter bore.

#medusa’s child #medusa #theodora #leto #greek myth #greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek stories #greek writing #greek gods #gods and goddesses #my wriring

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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February Contest Submission #8: The Treasure Of Doggerland

words: ca. 5000 setting: Modern AU lemon: No cw: None

The Ocean held so many wonders and mysteries. While mankind had chartered the stars and heavens above, so little was known about what lay underneath the oceans and seas of the world. And for Anna and her colleague Kristoff, their life’s work had been to discover the mystery of one of the most fascinating underwater locations on earth.

Thousands of years ago, around the time of the last ice age, there was a large mass of land that connected the United Kingdom to the rest of Europe. Modern-day scientists had termed it Doggerland and there had been several expeditions to the area over the years that had dredged up all sorts of things, from bones to primitive tools used by early man.

For Anna and Kristoff though, they hoped to be the first explorers to make a complete survey of the whole area and finally make a map of every notable point of interest. Their work would hopefully be the backbone for all future research and exploration in the area for years to come.

Sadly, their work had hit a slight snag. They had been unable to fully acquire funding for such an expedition and so, had to go about it themselves. They’d flown to Denmark, hired a submarine, a ship and a captain who would take them out to sea.

It wasn’t much, but Anna hoped that at least part of the survey would allow them to convince investors to further support their efforts. But of course, that all did indeed depend on this whole endeavour being successful.

After being out at sea for over a day, Anna and Kristoff were ready to begin, starting with Anna going down in the submarine to make a survey of the area near their ship, before moving onwards to another area the next day. Anna had hoped that everything would go smoothly.

However, the weather had certainly gotten worse. As Anna stood on the deck of the ship, she felt torrential rain batter the deck of the old rackety vessel. The storm was one of the worst she’d ever seen. A wind that howled and threatened to carry Anna off the deck of the ship at any moment, to the waves the size of small houses, battering the sides of the ship every once in a while, drenching the deck in brine.

But Anna wasn’t scared. If anything, the storm was actually motivational for her, triggering some primal instinct to push onwards no matter what the weather was like. And besides, it wasn’t like she’d be above the water when she’d be doing her survey.

“Hell of a storm out here!” A voice called to her.

Anna turned, seeing the captain of the ship, Eric, walk over to her. “Yeah, not it’s a real tempest out here.”

Eric chuckled. “Not scared of a bit of thunder and lightning, are you?”

The redhead scoffed. “Hell no. Besides, where I grew up, we used to get storms like this every day.”

“Heh, you seem like a born sailor,” Eric remarked.

“Actually, my dad was a fisherman,” Anna explained. “I guess I got my love of the ocean from him.”

Kristoff soon joined them on deck, almost slipping over as another massive wave rocked the boat. He clung onto the railing, sighing in relief that he hadn’t been thrown overboard into the sea. As he stumbled back onto his feet, he walked over to Anna, clutching his coat as it was blown about in the gale.

“Did we have to do this in the middle of a storm?” Kristoff asked, his tone reflecting how unsure he felt.

Anna walked over to her partner. “Hey, when life gives you lemons.”

Her friend shot Anna a rather serious look. Kristoff had always been the cautious of the two, as far back as when they had met in college. He’d always had to be the one to keep Anna out of trouble and from the looks of this storm, it was probably suicide for Anna to go out in that.

“Anna, this storm is battering the ship!” Kristoff cried in alarm. “Are you sure you wanna go down in the sub now and not wait until the storm passes?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Anna called back. “Besides, I’m going under the water, not across it.”

Kristoff folded his arms. “I don’t like it at all, feisty pants. With this storm, the sub might get caught in the currents and you could be dragged away. Or maybe smashed against some rocks and sink.”

“I’m a good swimmer,” Anna argued.

“Yeah, but you’re going thousands of feet down to the seafloor,” Kristoff reminded her. “You really think you can swim that far?”

“Kristoff, we spent five years planning this,” Anna argued. “I don’t intend to stop now just because of a bit of bad weather.”

Kristoff sighed, giving in. “Alright, I know never to argue with you when you’re stubborn like this. But I’m gonna keep in constant radio contact. The first sign of trouble, you hit those ballast tanks and come straight back up, right?”

“Sure thing,” Anna stated, putting a hand on her shoulder. “And Kristoff? Thanks for being here with me.”

Kristoff smiled. “Well… we are in this together after all.”

“Good” Anna stated. “You and Eric prepping the sub. I’m gonna get changed into my wetsuit and remind myself of the area we’re surveying today.”

As Anna went below decks to get changed, Eric chuckled.

“And what’s so funny?” Kristoff wondered.

“Oh, nothing. Just your girlfriend here reminds me a lot of my wife. Stubborn, very confident in herself… and a redhead too.”

Kristoff blushed. “Uh… she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh I apologise,” Eric said. “It’s just I thought that maybe…”

“Yeah, you aren’t the first but… I’m not exactly Anna’s preference if you get what I mean,” Kristoff said.

“Ah,” Eric nodded in understanding. “Duly noted.”

Down below, Anna was getting changed into her wetsuit. As she looked at herself in the mirror after tying her hair up in a bun, she felt a sense of butterflies in her chest. Finally, today was the day when five years of hard work were going to pay off once and for all.

As she went to a nearby table to look over the map of the region, the area she was going to survey, she looked at an old family photograph she’d brought with her. It was of her mother and father from when she was a little girl. Anna thought of how innocent she looked then, with her twin braids. These days, she felt much more mature about herself, wearing her hair longer.

“Well dad, I promised you I’d go see the sea for myself,” Anna whispered. “I bet you’d be proud of me.”

Tragically, Anna’s father had actually died at sea. His ship had been caught in a massive storm and capsized. The coast guard sadly never found his body, but the tragedy hadn’t stopped Anna from wanting to unlock the mysteries of the ocean itself. If anything, it had influenced her.

Anna smiled. “Maybe if I find anything down there, I’ll show it to you next time I’m home.” She sighed, remembering the coastal town in Maine where she grew up and spent her weekends on the beach, gazing out at the sea. It had been years since she visited her father’s grave, though she wasn’t exactly keen on seeing her mother again anytime.

But Anna didn’t have time to be dwelling on all that now, she had a route to memorise. She looked at the map again, making a mental note of the area once more. She wanted to survey the entire site, right down the last detail, leaving no stone unturned as it were.

When she was done, Anna headed out on deck, ready to begin her adventure.

xXx

Sometime later, Anna was on board the submarine as Eric lowered it into the water with the large crane on the back of his ship. As the crane let go, the yellow and black vessel plummeted down into the water, making an almighty splash as it hit the waves below.

Kristoff looked over the side of the ship, still concerned about the weather. He took out his pocket radio and spoke into it. “You all set down there, Anna?”

“Yeah, I’m about to fill my tanks now,” Anna replied.

The ballast tanks on the submarine soon filled with water and Kristoff watched as the sub dove under the waves. Anna sat at the controls of the craft, looking out of the glass cockpit at the ocean that surrounded her, watching the bubbles of air float to the surface as she descended.

As the sub sunk deeper and deeper, Anna switched on the submarine’s massive spotlights, illuminating the darkness surrounding her. She also switched on her sonar, the familiar echoing sound filling the canopy. On a nearby radar screen, Anna saw a monochromatic map of her surroundings appear next to her.

When she reached the ocean bed, Anna started up the sub’s engines. The small propellors on the craft pushed it forward, Anna driving across the sea bed. As she followed the route she mesmerised in her head, she looked around at the wonders that surrounded her.

Coral reefs, schools of fish, even a shark in the distance. But so far, there didn’t seem to be anything of much note. Though Anna wasn’t expecting to find much on her first trip. This was mainly so she could make a map of the actual area.

it would others later on that would likely be doing the real archaeological work.

Anna peered into the inky blackness as the submarine cruised across the sea bed. As she stared out of the window, seeing schools of fish swim through the glow of the submarine’s spotlights, she took a moment to enjoy the wonders.

But she thought about what this sea bed would have been like thousands of years ago when it was a vast grassy plain, where early mankind had once lived.

As she scanned across the seabed, Anna looked at the sonar screen to her left, seeing how it was picking up the nearby school of fish to her left and large rock formation to her right. It seemed like she had been coasting along the vast seabed for hours and covered some vast distance, but she had only gone a few miles away from the ship.

“How’re things going down there?” Kristoff asked.

“Kinda boring so far,” Anna admitted. “I’ve only covered about thirteen per cent of the area and I haven’t seen anything of much value besides some fish.”

“Well, we’re not likely to strike gold on our first day doing this, fiesty pants,” Kristoff replied. “How’s your oxygen meter doing?”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Anna stated. “How’s the weather up there like?”

“Still not great, ” Kristoff stated. “Be careful down there.”

“I will,” Anna promised.

Over the next few hours, Anna’s submarine cruised across the seabed along the route, the oceanographer taking note of anything of interest. As time ticked by though, Anna started to become a bit bored. She partly wished she’d brought her phone down here with her to listen to some music, but she remembered why she hadn’t.

If she had to go out in her scuba gear, the canopy would be flooded and last time she checked, phones weren’t waterproof. But Anna knew she needed to do something to pass the time. So she started to sing a merry tune to herself, something from her dad’s old record collection.

“We all live in a yellow submarine,” Anna sang to herself. “Yellow submarine, yellow submarine.”

“Is that the Beatles you’re signing there?” Eric’s voice chimed in.

“Oh uh,” Anna stuttered, blushing bright red in embarrassment. “Yeah, yellow submarine was my favourite as a kid.”

“You’ve certainly got a lovely singing voice,” Eric complimented.

“Hey uh, captain, mind staying off the radio?” Kristoff said. “Anna’s doing important survey work down there.”

“No, it’s fine, Kristoff,” Anna replied. “Still pretty dull down here.”

However, just then, Anna heard a very loud ping from the submarine’s sonar. Anna’s eyes widened, looking at the monitor to her left. Though she couldn’t tell what it was, the sonar had detected something massive near Anna’s location.

“Woah, what the heck is that?” Anna wondered.

“Coral reef maybe?” Kristoff suggested.

“I’m gonna check it out,” Anna stated.

Turning her submarine to the left, Anna headed in the direction of the mysterious sonar signal. Though she hadn’t expected to find anything on the first day, she wasn’t exactly complaining now. The thought of whatever she was about to find filled her with passion for her adventure.

Eventually, after cruising for a while, Anna noticed something out of the cockpit of the sub. The ocean around her was starting to grow… lighter. There was something in the distance illuminating the surrounding ocean, just beyond a nearby rock formation.

Switching off the sub’s spotlights, Anna radioed Kristoff. “Kristoff, whatever I’ve found, it’s lighting the ocean up like a Christmas tree.”

“That’s odd. The storm is still raging up here, so it can’t be the sun.”

“No, it’s something here at the bottom of the sea,” Anna stated. “I’m going in a closer look.”

As Anna’s craft flew over the rock formation, her eyes widened as she looked upon what she had discovered. Just in front of Anna was a giant scaly, ring-like structure that encircled a large area of the ocean bed. It was at least the size of a football pitch, the structure of the ring made of a sparkling mineral that gave them the appearance of ice. One part of the ring seemed to resemble a dragon’s head.

But what intrigued Anna the most was what was at the centre of the ring. On some sort of strange stone plinth, there stood what appeared to be a statue. The statue was made of the same mineral as the giant ring, sparkling and glowing with unnatural light.

Taking the sub in closer, Anna gazed at the statue. It seemed to be around seven or eight feet in height, in the shape of what appeared to be a humanoid woman with pointed ears and long hair, wearing a flowing dress of some kind.

Her heart pulsing in her chest, Anna felt a strange sensation when looking at the statue. She was mesmerised by how beautiful it appeared to be, She almost could have sworn it was smiling… at her. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, no matter how hard she tried.

“Uh, Anna?” Kristoff spoke into the radio. “You okay?”

Anna didn’t respond.

“YO FEISTY PANTS!”

Gasping, Anna shook her head. “Uh, yeah big guy?”

“Are you alright ?” Kristoff wondered. “You went quiet for a moment there.”

“I… I think so,” Anna stated. “I’ve found the source of the signal. It’s some sort of massive underwater crystalline structure. No idea how old it is, but there seems to be some kind of statue here made of the same mineral.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“I know right! This changes everything we knew about this area,” Anna remarked. “Maybe those old rumours of Doggerland being the British Atlantis weren’t far off after all.”

“Maybe,” Kristoff stated. “But you should really finish up your survey. Come back to this area later, Anna.”

“No,” Anna insisted. “I… I think we should bring that statue back to the ship for further study. I’ll finish the survey tomorrow.”

“What?” Kristoff wondered. “Anna, I thought we were supposed to be only surveying the area.”

“Change of plans,” Anna said. “We’re bringing this statue up.”

She wasn’t sure what was happening, but some sort of strange influence was compelling her to protect this statue. She… She didn’t want to just leave it down here. Something so beautiful didn’t deserve to be hidden away from the world, in the depths of the ocean.

Kristoff sighed. “Alright, I’ll have Eric bring the ship over to your location. Hang tight there.”

“Thanks, Kristoff,” Anna replied.“

Taking the sub in closer, Anna activated its large, robotic grappling arms. The two massive claws extended from the craft as Anna positioned her vessel in just the right position in front of the statue. She had to be gentle though. The last thing she wanted was to damage the beautiful figure of ice before her.

Carefully, Anna manipulated the arms, their mechanical fingers gently clutching onto the statue. With a little tug, the statue was pulled free from the stone base it was attached to, now being held in the arms of Anna’s vessel, thankfully without a scratch or being chipped.

"Yes!” Anna cheered.

As the submarine floated upwards, Anna reached forward, her hand touching the glass of the canopy. She stared into the statue’s icy eyes, feeling that somehow, they were staring back at her. Anna smiled, feeling that she had done the right thing.

This was certainly something her father would have been proud of her for.

xXx

Once Anna was back on the surface and aboard the ship, the strange statue she’d recovered was brought down the cargo hold. Over the next few hours, Anna and Kristoff studied the mysterious sculpture, Anna in particular still mesmerised by its gorgeous features.

And she wasn’t alone in thinking that. Eric had complimented on how beautiful the statue was, which had made Anna feel unusually jealous. But right now, she and Kristoff were looking over the statue, trying to figure out what it was, what it was made of, and more importantly… who could have carved it.

But Anna wasn’t entirely focused on her work. Now that she had the statue with her and nothing was between them, she felt she could spend forever just staring at the gorgeous woman. She reached out, caressing the cold, icy surface of the statue in her hands.

For a moment, she felt as though her hands were meeting cold skin instead of rock and ice. Soft, smooth skin that belonged to whatever being the statue was in the image of. As she stroked the statue’s head. she imagined her fingers threading themselves through locks of soft hair.

It was quite an unusual sensation, the feeling as though this statue was, in fact, a living being and that Anna felt as though she and it were… connected somehow. Nothing in her life had made Anna feel quite like this before.

“So who do you think made it?” Kristoff wondered.

“I… I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “My guess is there was some sort of civilisation in this part of the world thousands of years ago that were wiped out when Doggerland fell under the sea.”

“You think so? This thing would predate the Egyptians if it did and I find that hard to believe,” Kristoff stated. “My guess is maybe it fell off a Viking ship or something during the middle ages, that it was carved around that time.”

“That doesn’t line up,” Anna admitted. “I didn’t see any shipwrecks in the area where I found her, or that stone plinth, or that weird ring structure that surrounded her. She’s quite a mystery.”

“That it is,” Kristoff admitted, though he was a little confused by Anna referring to the statue as a woman, despite it not being alive. But he brushed it off for the moment and looked at the statue. “It’s remarkably well preserved. Whatever this stuff it’s made of, it’s lasted for centuries.”

“She’s certainly unique,” Anna remarked, staring at the statue. “I doubt there’s anything else in the world quite like her.” She found herself gazing at the statue again, being lost in its features.

Kristoff gave her a look. He couldn’t ignore this now, especially now that Anna seemed to be consistently calling the statue a woman. “Uh, Anna… you know this statue isn’t a living being right?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Then why are you calling it a she?” Kristoff asked. “I mean, yeah it’s depicting a female figure, but she’s not exactly… alive. Are you sure you weren’t down there in the ocean too long and you’ve caught the bends?”

“W-What?!” Anna exclaimed, blushing bright red. “I’m fine, really! But… I hadn’t realised I was calling her a she. I… I can’t help it. It’s like she’s really here with us and she’s more than just some statue I found at the bottom of the sea. She’s… She’s completely perfect.” She looked away. “Don’t judge me, okay?”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Kristoff chuckled. “Now I realise why you wanted to bring it up so badly. She is rather pretty and hey, wouldn’t be the first fictional person you’ve fallen for.”

Anna blushed redder, remembering how Kristoff used to tease her for her crushes on various fictional women when they first met. Lara Croft, Wonder Woman, Jasmine from Aladdin, Anna clearly had a type and this statue fitted it. She just hoped Kristoff wasn’t going to tease her too badly over it.

“But this is the first time I’ve seen you fall for a statue,” Kristoff remarked.

“Oh I can’t help it,” Anna sighed dreamily.

Her partner just smirked. “Even after all these years, you’re still a useless lesbian. I swear Honeymaren had no right to dump a cutie like you.”

Anna groaned. “Please don’t bring that up again… and for the record, this statue is still important regardless if I’m in love with her. If we show her to people, we’ll definitely get more funding to continue our research here and who knows what else we’ll find. Maybe some idea as to what the people who carved her were like.”

“Yeah and you get to look at a pretty girl,” Kristoff teased.

“Ugh, I hate you,” Anna groaned.

But Kristoff wasn’t wrong though. The statue was indeed gorgeous and… in a way, Anna wished she could keep it for herself. It didn’t deserve to be in some museum, with so many people staring at it. She wanted the statue to be hers, all hers. Part of her wanted to lean in and kiss the gorgeous statue… though that was a little weird even by her standards.

As she stared intently at the statue, she reached forward, caressing its crystalline surface. As she did so, she noticed that the dress of the statue seemed to be lined with strange runes, symbols that weren’t familiar to Anna at all. She thought about what they could possibly mean.

“Uh, Anna?” Kristoff then spoke to her.

Anna shook her head, drawn out of her daze again. “Uh yes?”

“I’m gonna go get something to eat. All this exploring has worked up an appetite. You coming?”

“Uh sure,” Anna replied flatly, still gazing at the statue.

She then left the room with Kristoff, going to get dinner with him. After leaving the room, however, Anna never saw the runes she’d been looking at on the statue were now glowing a mysterious white aura, as were the statue’s eyes. Clearly, there was definitely more to it than either of them could have imagined.

xXx

Anna was standing on a strange rocky beach in the middle of a storm, thunder and lightning crashing around her. She wasn’t sure what was happening or where this beach was. She walked around, feeling the freezing cold all around her. She desperately sought out shelter as rain pelted down from the sky.

But before Anna could reach a nearby cave, she looked out at the ocean as a massive wave rose above her. She screamed, trying to outrun it before she was drenched in the water. As she was dragged along the beach, Anna coughed and spluttered, seawater having jumped down her throat.

As she got to her feet, she looked around, seeing the storm only growing in intensity. At that moment, the howling wind was interrupted by a strange voice calling out to Anna in a melodic tone.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

“Who… Who said that?” Anna asked. “Where are you?”

Aaaaaaaa, the voice called out again.

As the howling wind resumed, Anna looked out at the stormy sea Was the voice… coming from the ocean? Anna wanted to know and suddenly, she sprinted into the ocean and to her amazement… she was somehow walking on the surface of the water itself, the waves turning slowly to ice beneath her feet.

“What the heck?” Anna asked, but then heard a loud rumbling as a massive sea serpent burst out of the water, flying over Anna’s head. The creature let out a deafening, hissing roar before it dove back into the water. For a few moments, Anna saw that it had scales made of the same crystal as the statue.

Then, she heard the sound of galloping, as a strange, horse-like creature galloped along the waves beside Anna, before also dipping under the waves. Anna blinked, confused as to what exactly was going on. But before she could think about that, she felt the wind pick up again.

Looking up, Anna saw a figure floating above her, flying on the wind itself. She couldn’t make out what the figure looked like, but it clearly had long flowing hair and was wearing a dress with a cape of some kind. Was this… was this the statue come to life?

Glowing blue eyes gazed upon Anna and the redhead felt… strangely comforted by them. They seemed so warm and inviting. And yet, Anna still had no clue what was actually going on here? Where was she? What were those creatures? What was this strange woman?

There has been an awakening, a voice then spoke. You have been chosen.

“What?” Anna asked. “I don’t understand.”

You are the one who will awaken us.

“Me? What are you-”

And then, Anna woke up.

The redhead panted as she shot out of bed, wiping her brow of sweat. She was glad that it had all just been some sort of crazy dream, yet she found herself filled with more thoughts about the statue. She… she felt that it was in danger somehow, that she had to be near it.

Quickly getting dressed Anna tried to make it out of her bedroom, only to trip up and fall over, banging her head on a wall. “Ow!”

She groaned, realising the storm outside the ship hadn’t calmed down at all. After rubbing her head, Anna made her way down to the cargo hold, wanting to check on her mysterious statue. Something about it was drawing to her, something she knew was connected to her dream.

Fortunately for Anna, the statue was safe. It hadn’t moved an inch, much to her relief. After going over to the statue, Anna let herself become lost in its beauty once more. She was glad to be alone with the mysterious statue, entranced by its wonders and secrets.

It sounded crazy to her now though, that she had indeed fallen for the statue. She felt guilty though, seeing as it was just a statue and not a real human being. No matter how much she wished the statue could come to life right before her eyes, Anna knew magic was only a thing that existed in fairytales.

It also seemed pathetic that the only woman she would love was a strange crystal figure she found at the bottom of the sea. Her love life hadn’t exactly been great. Most of her time she’d been focused on her work, but the few times she had tried dating it hadn’t gone well.

Honeymaren was the one that had stuck with her longest, but she had to leave her when her family had to move to the other side of the country. Anna understood why she left, even if Kristoff still insisted that she should have tried to make it still work between them.

Still, Anna knew that a statue wasn’t going to truly give her the connection and love she had truly wanted. It just wasn’t meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” Anna whispered. “You’re so beautiful, but I guess I should look somewhere else for love.” She caressed the being. “You can’t hear me, but I just want you to know that… I’m glad I found you and I know you’re going to help my research so, so very much.”

But the statue indeed didn’t respond and Anna felt guilty again, that the statue was heartbroken that Anna had to end it between them. And Anna realised she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let go of her icy love, no matter how badly she knew it couldn’t work.

“Oh damn it,” Anna swore. “I’m sorry… I won’t leave you. I… I’ll make sure you’re safe, and where we can be together for as long as I live.” She caressed the statue. “I… I love you so much… my goddess.” And then at that moment, Anna kissed the statue’s lips.

As Anna kissed the statue deeply, pouring all of her love into it, the crystal figure started to glow an eerie blue. Unbeknownst to Anna, the icy crystal that the statue was made from started to melt like liquid, forming a puddle on the floor beneath her, flowing like water.

Anna felt the watery feeling against her lips, suddenly pulling away in shock. Her eyes widened as the glowing blue fluid melted away from the statue, giving way to skin and hair. The redhead covered her mouth in shock as the runes on the statue glowed again.

With the crystal having melted, the figure stood before Anna, a seemingly human woman with long blonde, almost white hair and sparkling blue eyes. She was dressed in a flowing, sparkling white dress, seemingly made of the same crystal that she had once been entombed in.

“What… What the?” Anna spoke, lost for words.

The blonde woman looked at her hands, feeling rather confused.

“Who… Who are you?” she asked her, and then looked around in wonder and puzzlement. “Where… where am I?”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds

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yanara126-writing · 3 years

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The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - Arrival and an Elf Lad (1/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

Read here or on Ao3. (1241 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Hildraed was finally standing at her long awaited goal. She was standing. And staring. Mouth hanging open and eyes wide she was staring into the main plaza. Her head was empty, entirely filled with the sight before her eyes.

Finally, after what felt like at least three turns of the wheel, there was one word that her mouth formed.

“Fuck.”

She was tempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, but she feared the stench of rotting flesh would finally knock her out. But what did she deserve really? How could she have dared to hope for a better situation. At least in Readceras they didn’t hang people from the trees, they just left them to starve.

“I take it you’re a new settler.” Oh fuck no, the land could be as cheap as it wanted to be, she was not staying here. A moment passed and Hildraed noticed that someone had to have asked the question. She turned around and immediately regretted it. Staring at her was a small, slimy looking man with an official looking broach on his cloak. His stare told her exactly what he was thinking of her, and for a second Hildraed was tempted to just punch him in the face and save herself the trouble of having to listen to him. Unfortunately, she was alone and severely battered, which made her chances of winning such an encounter rather slim.

And so she half heartedly listened to him, tuning him out as much as possible, and only occasionally throwing in a dry remark when he became all too insufferable. And then the bells rang, and with them Hildraed’s head. She was going to kill someone in this miserable dirt hole. Maybe this wretch, maybe the insane fuckhead in his castle, but somebody was going to die by her hand someday.

Glowering at the smug shithead in front of her and only barely managing to convince herself to not push him into the pit, she stomped over to the inn. First sleeping, then killing someone, then drinking herself under the table and hopefully erasing the last few day from her mind. In that order.

But before she could even enter the inn, the next trouble found her. Well then, maybe one of these people would be the dead ones. Probably the nervous, elvish money-bag over there. While she didn’t hold quite as much of a grudge against every single aedyran who ever lived as these… fine gentlemen seemed to, she certainly held no love for them, and the fact that this particular one very obviously came from the upper classes didn’t do him any favours either.

“Ay, you’re itchin’ for the kindeling touch o’ your sister!”

For a second Hildraed blinked. And then she laughed. Loudly and hideously she howled, head thrown back with absolute glee. Well then, maybe not this one perhaps. It took her a while to gasp for air again, and by this point the villagers were staring at her with suspicion. Still grinning she wiped a tear from her eye, not at all caring about their looks. The source of her hilarity however was starting to look seriously frightened as he stammered out excuses, so maybe it was time to stop them from lynching him.

“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” She could kill them. A part of her wanted to, but that little bit of fun had dredged up some of her good will.

“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Well, perhaps not then. Hildraed’s mood soured again as the men squared up. Of course not. The following brawl was short but brutal. Even in her battered state Hildraed was a force to be reckoned with, and with well aimed hits she took down one after the other. She didn’t care if their necks broke in the process, if they were lucky they’d get up again in the morning, if not, well that wasn’t her problem. The last man went down, and left was only the now intimated looking elf with an unused grimoire in his hand.

“Well… Thank you for that.” An exhausted snort was his answer, and Hildraed spat some blood on the ground before glancing up to him again. She was pretty sure one eye was shifting a bit too much left…

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” This was not even worthy of a snort.

“Do I look like it?”

“N-no?”

“No, that’s right lad.” Blinking heavily Hildraed dragged one hand over face, the back of it coming away stained with dirt and blood. She scowled, before immediately wincing with regret as her head gave a painful pulse. A strand of her hung into her eyes, and she grabbed scowling some more through the pain. Her brown her was somehow both fatty and dry, hanging listlessly and grimy from her head in thick strands. Oh how she already missed the salty breeze of the ocean… Why had she ever agreed to come here? Surely she could have taken care of all the fuckers who wanted to see her hang, it couldn’t possibly have been worse than this.

Upon glancing up again she found the elf looking at her with concern and a half open mouth. Oh, maybe he’d been talking. Ups.

“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not caring whether he followed or not, Hildread passed him by towards the inn on by now wobbling steps. Why couldn’t the land feel as nice as the sea? Although, her current problems probably had more to do with the agony spreading through her feet than missing land legs.

A loud curse ripped from her mouth as her shoulder painfully bumped into the doorframe from her unsteady walk, the urge to kick it as well only reined in by her not obeying muscles. Suddenly there was a slender hand on her elbow pulling her away from the wall and into the building. The elf had indeed followed her, and was now helping her stumble along the way in the inn, staring forward with visible concern and just as obviously already questioning his decision to follow and touch the scary, dirty, bloody, scarred and cussing woman who had just possibly killed three men.

A drunken grin spread over Hildraed’s face as her energy drained even faster. At least the boy had guts enough to know who to follow, even if he had a too big trap for his own good. And with that grimoire of his he might actually be useful later.

The next sensation she felt was a rough mattress under her cheek and her eyes shifting back from their apparently once again cross-eyed position. Dimly she knew that the elf boy must have dragged her all the way into a bedroom, but her muscles certainly didn’t care, as they finally relaxed a bit, still aching but at least not also attempting to hold her up anymore. With relieved sigh her eyes shut, and with vengeance she shoved all the shit from the last few days away to just sleep.

Alas, as she would soon find out, there is no sleep for the watcher.

#Pillars of Eternity #writing #fanfiction #Watcher Hildraed #cussing #canon-typical violence #she's a pirate #or not anymore #she'd like to be though

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gengarprotectionsquad · 4 years

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bad horror movie ideas i've been compiling b/c @fleetwoodmurk is an enabler:

thankskilling: the family connections of a 19 year old college student allow him to skirt by any substantial sentencing for violent anti-indigenous hate crimes, just in time for him to make it home by thanksgiving. the soothing whispers of how he “shouldn’t have his life ruined for making a mistake” on property staked in stolen indigenous land invite the wrathful presence of autumn’s bounty-- a ghastly, therizinosaurus-like approximation of a turkey powered solely by the anguish of lives taken in the name of american colonialism. after all, if that family wants their son to have some turkey, then he’ll get his eight foot-tall, blade-handed, undying turkey.

homebody: forced to pull into a run-down motel by a freak storm, a group of friends initially find themselves faced with nothing more harrowing than the occasional cobweb and staff who never meet visitors face-to-face, even finding a note on the front counter that there’s no fee for staying--so long as they “spread the word” if they find their stay satisfactory. but, after waking up each morning to find that they’ve lost clumps of hair, individual teeth, and even a toe among other body parts, they discover the motel’s one and only employee--a colossal, man-like harvestman that severs human tissue with surgical precision (thanks to its spindly, 15 meter arms) in a misguided attempt to better fool human prey by grafting the fruits of its labor onto its own body.

goliath’s revenge: a japanese kaiju film director finally pushes his luck just a tad too far, killing the suit actress for the lead “goliath” monster as a direct result of the director’s penchant for strenuous, dangerous stuntwork. when his connections allow him to wriggle his way out of the tragedy scot-free, the suit actress’ furious spirit reanimates in her signature costume--now made flesh and blood--in order to exact a vengeful rampage of monstrous proportions that her former boss could only have hoped to have filmed.

more under the cut!!!

hivemind: a single mother reeling from a devastating divorce seems to find new purpose in her life thanks to a california-based branch of a yoga group that emphasizes the value of both diligence and mindfulness. as the months go by, however, she realizes that she’s so deeply invested her time with the group that she doesn’t even know the names of anyone in her neighborhood that isn’t involved with them. just as she’s having doubts, she’s invited on a week-long retreat to experience what will hopefully become an outdoor facility of theirs, and that even their founder will be in attendance. she and her daughter do indeed meet the group’s founder--a colossal, humanoid queen ant who is rendered inert by her size, subsequently relying on her psychic abilities to indoctrinate human followers to her side and transform them into “suitable workers” that would happily give their lives for her sake

children of the night: an exorcist, a private investigator, a trio of true crime podcasters, the local sheriff w/ top suspect in tow, a self-proclaimed “vampire hunter”, and a humble gravedigger all converge on the same cemetery when it becomes host to a series of unspeakably gruesome murders--the site being deemed the “vampires’ playground” for the crimes’ bloody nature. but when the self-confessed suspect winds up cleaved in twain at the scene, it turns out they’ll all have to deal with actual vampires--hulking, gorilla-like, hairless bats with the intelligence of a toddler and a permanent, gummy grin filled with teeth far too dull to consume flesh that hasn’t been playfully beaten to a fine pulp beforehand

think tank: with the untimely death of a silicon valley tech giant who’d racked up a reputation for being as antisocial as he was exploitative, a documentary crew visits his main offices in hopes of interviewing any available employees in order to determine whether or not that open secret had any truth to it. though cooperative enough, the surly defensiveness that seems to increase in prevalence as the crew makes their way up the corporate ladder leads one particularly-intrepid camerawoman to sneak the crew far further into the building than originally intended and into a hidden basement. this brings them face-to-face with the deceased entrepreneur’s dirty little secret, known as the think tank: a captive “psychic existence” brought into being using the harvested, collective brainpower of every employee who refused to take their boss’s shit but was just too talented to let go

whalefall: the 300 ft tall, walking corpse of a whale dredges its way up from the ocean floor and onto american shorelines, bringing with it tidal waves of pestilence and plague. when japanese fishermen identify the creature as a bake-kujira--a ghostly whale that harbors only misfortune and undead sealife in the wake of maritime disaster--the federal government opts to not only ignore their insight, but outright blame japan and their whaling industry for its presence. their relative inaction in the name of xenophobia and saving face will serve only to prolong the creature’s attack, with entire coastal towns left to deal with the flooding and zombified deep-sea organisms themselves.

study skin: a group of hunters grow too impatient to wait for their county’s deer season and set out under the cover of nightfall in hopes of snagging a trophy or two. though met with a highway lined with bizarre amounts of roadkill and a totally silent forest, they disregard their unease and set up for the night. they soon discover the true reason for the minimal duration of the local hunting season when they catch a glimpse of an old friend long-thought to have vanished on a hunting trip, bringing them face-to-face with the hidewinder--a mysterious creature that inhabits the skins of deceased animals in search of larger and more complex bodies to call its own, with absolutely no idea how to look or behave “right” in any of its disguises, and a tendency to become enraged once it becomes clear that it doesnt fit in.

calling card: a freelance musician struggling with being sincere and vulnerable in their own work decides to move to a small, quiet town in southern bumblefuck-nowhere to try and clear their head. to their surprise, they’ve practically moved onto the set of a musical--the town’s residents bursting into song at the drop of a hat out of what seems to be the sheer, earnest passion of their feelings. this pleasant novelty soon turns out to be a town tradition established to cope with the presence of lonesome harvey--an upright cicada-man who emerges from underground hibernation every 18 years to rip select peoples’ vocal chords right out of their throats, crudely tying them together in order to fashion a set powerful enough to function as his own (which he uses to shriek out his signature mating call every summers’ night, in hopes of attracting a partner who’ll never arrive). thus, the townsfolk sing their hearts out so that harvey can gauge whose voice he’ll claim for himself (as opposed to having him mutilate everyone in the name of trial-and-error), and the musician has moved into town just in time for ol’ harvey to make his return.

back of your mind: following the very-much-timely (if a tad mysterious) death of their verbally-abusive mother, her only child returns to their childhood home in order to collect any wayward belongings and maybe find some sort of closure in setting foot on the premises one last time. a patch of black mold on the wall that they spot on their way in seems to...change location, somehow. further investigation and attempts to simply wipe away the mold leave it in the blurred image of a gummy, toothy maw--one that begins to whisper to the visitor, claiming to have missed them oh-so-very-much from the day that they left. the strangeness of the situation keeps them coming back everyday, where the mold’s whispers begin to take a familiarly-cruel edge--at first pleading for the visitor to stay, only to take to yelling at them that no-one but the mold will accept them as the “broken, useless husk” of a person that they are.

miasma: a long line of charlatans and conmen have managed to convince a small backwoods town over generations that their collection of plastic gems and false talismans will heal them better than any medical professional could ever hope to accomplish. with most of the towns residents now being old, grey, and complacently vulnerable to disease, a new con artist moving in with a case of the stomach flu compromises the health of the entire community. and with the enticing smell of illness, comes the arrival of the scavenger--a black-feathered “vulture man” who knocks three times upon the door of his intended target, before politely entering their residence and leaving within the hour, leaving behind a bloated corpse whose orifices are stuffed with posies laying otherwise peacefully on their bed.

killing stroke: a promising rising star in the fencing scene is tragically slain in the middle of a prestigious tournament, with the cause of death being attributed to a recklessly-modified underplastron. in actuality, the poor youth’s equipment was sabotaged in order to maintain the career of a legendary fencer. on the anniversary of his death, he rises from the grave and dons his old suit in order to infiltrate that year’s iteration of the tournament--his mission being to cut down not only his rival, but anyone who upholds the same kind of narcissistic greed that claimed his life.

disassembly line: an upton sinclair-adjacent investigative journalist finds herself looking into the inner workings of a 1900s meat-packing factory in chicago, beholding the full disgusting scope of its exploitative, unsanitary working conditions. managing to acquaint herself with a few of the workers, the lunchtime whispers of one particularly-attractive lady butcher point her in the direction of a devious cover-up involving a nameless employee who “accidentally” wound up in the machinery after making too much of a ruckus about his wages. a nameless employee whose steaming, ground-up remains have now crawled out of the rickety equipment in search of postmortem vigilante justice.

catch of the day: in spite of the sustainability concerns their operation has racked up over the years, a deep-sea fishing company delves into nigh-uncontested territory--a patch of ocean deemed “dead waters” in reference to the sparse results of other companies’ attempts. their first day dredges up only a single pacific halibut, titanic even by the standards of the species. upon further inspection, the flatfish splits open in a mess of bodily fluids and blackened, inedible meat--as if the fish had already been torn apart and had decayed from the inside out. lost in the shuffle was an amniotic sac containing rapidly-growing, amphibious hagfish “mermaids” that had parasitized the halibut as they had almost all of the other fish in those waters, and that have now been unleashed on a lonely fishing boat sitting miles away from shore.

razorback bridge: a group of teenaged, amateur paranormal enthusiasts livestream their first “investigation” into a local landmark--razorback bridge, rumored to be haunted by the murderous ghost of a local farmer whose crops were so frequently ruined by invasive wild boar that he snapped and devoted the rest of his natural life to slaying the hogs, eventually losing his life to a boar that proceeded to gobble up his remains without leaving a trace. although officials have long restricted access to that part of the woods due to the aggressive nature of the wild boar inhabiting the area, the teens manage to sneak their way onto the bridge and come face-to-face with ol’ rawhide himself--a ravenous, nigh-unstoppable half-man/half-boar that came to be when the hog that consumed the old farmer had its body possessed and warped by the man’s furious ghost, far too angry to accept even the prospect of his own death.

vigor mortis: a kindly old mortician prides herself on her ability to restore bodies to exactly how they looked in life, enabling their families to have at least one source of comfort during the difficult coping process of loss. one day, however, she is presented with a body so badly mangled in an accident that she almost suggests to forgo embalming altogether and to simply refrigerate the corpse until the burial service, though she ultimately doesn’t when the distraught client begs for the process to be open-casket. try as she might, the mortician finds herself unable to make any substantial restoration on the body. in the few minutes that she steps away from the body in order to think of what else she could do, she turns back to find that it’s...vanished. she soon finds herself being pursued at every turn by the shambling corpse, now enshrouded in a body bag, and is forced to confront both a mangled revenant and a debilitating case of impostor syndrome.

making up for lost time: a conspiracy theory-themed convention is having its first go in philadelphia, pennsylvania--even hosting an artists’ alley selling everything from “ayyy lmao” keychains to collapsible foam JFK heads. when mysterious burn damage begins to show up on the property, however, the inflated egos of the guest panel speakers representing various “unorthodox investigation” groups not only refuse to give up on the convention, but are so prone to bickering amongst themselves and attempting to assume leadership that they only make it harder for the other attendees to respond to the threat of what seems to be a time traveler. that is, the victim of a first attempt at time travel so badly botched that she’s received what is mostly simply put as “space-time carpet burn”: not only is she burning, but her mind, her soul, and the very concept of her throughout space and time are burning, leaving the unreachable chrononaut in a frenzied panic that threatens to scorch everything she touches right out of existence along with her.

pearly gates: in the midst of a national emergency, a group of local landlords manage to bully their recently-unemployed tenants into coughing up just enough rent to host a get-together at their luxurious gated community. following a constant sensation of being watched and drowsy recollections of blinding light shining through their windows that first evening, the group awakens the next day to find one of them dead--groveling on her hands and knees with her entire skull seeming to have somehow...inverted. they soon realize that they’re being picked off by an angel--one so enraged by their inhuman greed that it wrenched itself free from the heavens in order to exact furious retribution.

frontera sangrienta: a softspoken chicanx youth sneaks across the american border on a nightly basis under the noses of both his immigrant parents and border patrol agents, for the express purpose of helping mexican migrants safely make their way over. one night, he is met with a family so terrified that he can make out only one word from their panic--”chupacabra”. the legendary mosquito has developed a taste for american blood after devouring careless tourists and escaped goats, and is in hot pursuit of the family considering that the mother is an american herself. the young man--a “mixed signal” to the chupacabra due to his conflicted feelings over thinking of himself as strictly american or mexican--is now the only thing standing between the family and a pitiful, bloody demise.

52: after a saturation diver is violently wrenched from their diving bell in a freak accident and their remains are presumed lost at sea, a marine salvage team is sent in by the chamber’s manufacturers under the surface-level orders to retrieve evidence for the investigation, but with the underlying message really being to “pick all that shit up so we can just sweep it under the rug quickly and quietly”. upon arrival, the crew begins picking up a bizarre frequency that would otherwise be regarded as whalesong...if not for the fact that it is much higher than the calls of any whales known to inhabit the area. the salvage team then finds themselves being picked off one by one by the source of the noise--it turns out that the saturation diver’s sheer will to live allowed their broken body to adapt to the ocean depths, taking on a warped form not too dissimilar to a beluga whale. now the former diver is left to lash out in frenzied desperation, screaming out a cry for help that falls deaf on the ears of both humans and sealife

i am but a teenage fool who knows nothing about nothing so please do not dunk on me if nothing i wrote here has any accurate basis in real-world experiences or logic. also i’ll update with more if/whenever i think of any

#horror #bogleech #monster #monsters #horror movies

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sciencenewsforstudents · 4 years

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Scientists have uncovered a big surprise from Antarctica’s Lake Mercer: the remains of tiny animals. Some looked like “squished spiders and crustacean-type things with legs,” says David Harwood. “Some other things … looked like they could be worms.”

Harwood is a micropaleontologist. He studies fossils of microscopic creatures at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln. He was describing animal carcasses retrieved from Lake Mercer, some 600 kilometers (370 miles) from the South Pole.

A thick layer of ice has topped this lake for thousands of years. In late December, researchers drilled through about a kilometer (0.6 mile) of that ice to reach the lake. The mud they dredged up from its bottom contained the animal remains. They found the tiny carcasses by examining the water and mud under a microscope.

Harwood was part of an expedition known as SALSA, which stands for Subglacial Antarctic Lakes Scientific Access. Its researchers were the first to sample this deeply buried lake. In addition to the other animal carcasses, they spotted what appeared to be remnants of a water bear. Water bears, or tardigrades, are durable microscopic critters. Examining DNA from the remains will help researchers ID them.

An announcement of the SALSA team’s discovery of Lake Mercer’s animal graveyard appeared in a news report published online January 18 in Nature.

Were they lake dwellers or just drop-ins?

Until now, scientists hadn’t considered that Antarctic lakes like Mercer could host organisms larger than microbes. That’s why this find “is really intriguing,” says Slawek Tulaczyk. Not part of the SALSA team, he studies glaciers for the University of California, Santa Cruz.

In 2013, scientists sampled another buried lake in Antarctica — Lake Whillans. “We didn’t uncover any evidence of anything more complex than a microbe,” says SALSA team member Brent Christner. He is a microbiologist at the University of Florida in Gainesville. “We had a similar expectation” for Lake Mercer, he says.

Scientists were surprised by Lake Mercer’s animal graveyard. Samples taken from neighboring Lake Whillans turned up only microbes.

CREDIT: E. OTWELL

It’s unclear if animals that once lived in Lake Mercer left behind the newly unearthed carcasses, Tulaczyk says. Ice or water may have carried these fragments in from the ocean. Or the remains could have washed in from nearby lakes in the Transantarctic Mountains.

The SALSA team could use radiocarbon dating to help pinpoint the samples’ ages. This technique works by comparing the relative amounts of two forms of carbon. One of them, carbon-14, is radioactive. That means it is unstable and sheds energy. As carbon-14 loses energy, it turns into carbon-12. This conversion occurs at a known rate. The ratio of carbon-12 to carbon-14 in material from a once-living object can be used to determine its age. And that, Tulaczyk says, may provide a clue as to how and when these minuscule carcasses arrived in Lake Mercer.

If any of these animals once called Lake Mercer home, some of them may still be alive down there, Harwood says. “It’s interesting to think that life can exist in really extreme environments,” he says. Lake Mercer is a great example.

The lake has been cut off from both the ocean and atmosphere for thousands of years. Indeed, Harwood says, “If life is still persisting there, that’s important for our thoughts about what we might find out in space.”

#science #scied #sciblr #animals #Antarctica

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years

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For a lot of the hybrid species of dryads that have emerged, their origins make sense. With populations growing and mobility getting easier and more prevalent, we are seeing many territories starting to merge. Impassable areas are starting to vanish, and populations that have been isolated for decades are now being visited by the outside world. The chances of seeing Desert Dryads or Marsh Dryads outside of their usual habitat back then was rare, but now it is becoming more commonplace. With such mingling of the different dryad species, it is inevitable that crossbreeding will occur. Relationships can develop anywhere, and love knows no borders or bounds. In the end, two beings who once were oblivious to each other's existence now join together in an unbreakable bond. That is usually how hybridization occurs. In some cases though, you just look at the family tree and wonder "How the heck did that happen?!" One of the hybrids whose lineage brings much confusion is the Mangrove Dryad. They are a hybrid species that is found in warm coastal waters, and whose populations can create living amphibious forests. Compared to other hybrid species, they are also some of the most extreme when it comes to anatomical deviations. Plenty of hybrids share obvious characteristics of their parents, and is usually easy to see the combination that birthed them. In this case, though, Mangrove Dryads have taken on a form that at first seems quite alien compared to their parents. They are quite tall in size, and they also hold quite a bit of mass. Their upper bodies are elongated and stretched out, which hints at one of their parents. Their lower half, however, is where things get really interesting. Instead of having the usual two walking appendages of other dryads, theirs bear more in resemblance to actual tree roots. It is almost the total opposite of what we have! While we have legs that are shaped out of roots, they have roots that are shaped out of legs! Despite its tangled and chaotic appearance, these limbs are indeed legs that the Mangrove Dryad can walk upon. It just so happens that these legs grow in a ridiculous amount and don't restrict themselves to the torso. You can see appendages branching off from other limbs, adding more to this bizarre look. It turns out, this wild growth isn't even restricted to their legs! Upon closer inspection of their arms and shoulders, you can see where a number of branches and arm-like growths have developed. These growths seem much slower and stunted compared to what is occurring downstairs, but it is still a sight to behold! This constant sprouting and growing is believed to be a result of their hybridization, much like how other hybrids possess unique characteristics and features. Speaking of hybrids, I have yet to reveal the parents that result in Mangrove Dryads. Now I am not one to judge relationships or those who partake in certain pleasures, but this is one of those cases where I am baffled about how things came to be. Like, how did these two happen to cross paths, and how did they even pull something like this off? I am not being crude, I am just confused! You see, Mangrove Dryads are a result of a Conifer Dryad and a Kelp Dryad, which is a situation I have yet to fully wrap my head around. If you are wondering how a giant arctic forest dweller and a tropical oceanic swimmer came together to raise a family, then you are in the same boat as the rest of us. I can understand Conifer Dryads migrating to warmer climates, but we are still dealing with a saltwater environment and an aquatic lover. Relationships can indeed happen anywhere and love has no limits, but still! If this was a single incident, I could accept this much easier, but there are entire colonies of these hybrids! Along coastal waters, you can find large populations of Mangrove Dryads dwelling in the swamps and tides. So this pairing had to occur quite a few times for there to be such a healthy number! Sure, they can breed with Kelp Dryads and still result in Mangroves being born, but there are still populations that are miles from one another that had to start from somewhere. It is a mystery to this day on how or when these hybrid colonies were established, and I am not sure if we will ever really figure it out.

Now I think we have spent enough time talking about their conception, so it is time to move onto the usual stuff. Like I mentioned before, Mangrove Dryads inhabit the coastal waters and swamps in places with tropical climates. As a result of two parents from the land and sea, they have wound up being somewhere in the middle. I would say that they are amphibious, but that still doesn't seem like the best term. They don't split their time between land and water, they just have half of their body in the water and the other half out. Well, it is more of a 75% out of water and 25% in. What I am trying to say is that they spend most of their lives standing in shallow saltwater. Their many branching legs allow them to stand comfortably on the muddy bottoms, which holds the rest of their body above the surface. Now most dryads do not tolerate saltwater, as it can be dangerous in large doses. Mangroves, however, are totally fine with it. Thick bark helps prevent the salt from getting in and the water from leaking out. Their many legs also help keep a large portion of their body away from the salty water, where they can also bath in fresh rainwater. Even if they do absorb a bunch of salt, special glands in their bodies absorb it and force it out of their bodies. These glands appear to be located around and under the head cap, mainly where their "hair" is. You can see salt crystals slowly build up on this vegetation, eventually dispersing when the dryad shakes their head or when they do some grooming. I have heard some humans jokingly compare this to dandruff, which isn't the worst comparison I have heard. If you do hang around Mangroves Dryads, be sure to watch out when they do this. This head-shaking technique they use to get rid of the salt buildup is used pretty commonly, so they don't think twice about doing it. If you happen to be near them and have your mouth open when they do this, well, lets just say you better have a full canteen handy. Life in the shallows for them is quite different from what other dryads experience. Due to their large size and location, they do no construct any buildings or structures. Their thick bark and many limbs allow them to weather practically any conditions. Rain is a welcome thing for them, as they can bath in the falling freshwater and hydrate. Storms that blow in can create powerful wind and rough waves, but they can still endure these. Their root-like legs can burrow into the muck and anchor them, making them almost impossible to dislodge. Huddling together as a colony, they intertwine their limbs and pack themselves in tightly to create a formidable living fortress. The saplings will be moved to the center of this mass, where they will hide underneath the adults. The young will be shielded by a wall of wrapped roots, protecting them from the rough weather. While in this state, hardly any storm can affect them, so much so that other life has taken notice. Birds, fish and other small critters will flock to these colonies during rough weather, knowing that it will provide sanctuary. Stories even tell of fishermen being saved by Mangrove Dryads when their boats were swept away in the storm. Studies and observations have also found that these colonies, mixed with the surrounding mangrove trees, can actually create barriers that protect many ecosystems from the brunt of the storm. So while these dryads may appear lax and peaceful, they can be forces of nature when they come together! The everyday life of a Mangrove dryad is a rather simple one. Most of the time they remain nearby others of their kind, socializing and resting in the calm waters. Individuals may go out to gather food, slowly wading through the shallows in search of fish and other snacks. With their many roots and constant exposure to the sun, they get a huge portion of their nutrients by just standing still. When they travel through the surrounding swamps and shallows, it is usually to collect meat, fruits and nuts to supplement their diet. By using nets woven with vines and spears fashioned with old branches, they can hunt fish to bring back to the colony. Edible vegetation is easily picked from the surrounding trees, or dredged up by their many legs. Though they eat most of their food raw, there is one instance where they may actually craft a dish. It is called a "Mud Cake," and it is almost exactly what you think it is. It is marsh mud that has ground up fish parts and seaweed mixed in. The resulting mixture is formed into flat discs, which are then left to bake in the sun. It is mainly made as a treat, and apparently their saplings love it. I myself have tried this dish, and I must say it is an acquired taste. To me it tasted like someone made fish-flavored chalk and then dropped it in the sand. Regardless, the food they collect on these excursions is shared amongst the colony, and most of it goes to the saplings. To ensure their young grow big and strong, they are given hefty portions, as the adults can easily get their nutrients from the surrounding soil. Due to their location on the coasts, these colonies tend to interact with nearby villages and ports. Other dryad settlements near these waters are happy to welcome their fellow sisters, and the two usually work together to hunt and survive. Since saltwater is bad for most land dryads, Mangrove Dryads will aid in fishing and collecting coastal foods. In return, the land dryads will provide terrestrial food and medicine for the colony. Healers who work in these towns will often have monthly checkups arranged with the Mangrove colony, paddling in by boat to see the saplings and deliver medicine. Non-dryad settlements may also find similar help from these colonies, that is if they are willing to work with them. Sometimes human ports and towns may disturb the surrounding area with harmful fishing and practices, and this doesn't please these colonies too much. They care very much for the waters they live in, so such destructive things are not taken well. Since Mangrove Dryads don't move all that fast and aren't really fighters, many don't see any danger in angering them. However, some villages have learned the hard way that Mangrove Dryads can retaliate. When the next big hurricane blows in, they may be surprised to see that the mangrove barrier that protected their town has mysteriously vanished, leaving them exposed to the full force of storm. After the waves and winds tear their settlements to pieces, they may have a newfound respect for the Mangrove Dryads. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- This was an old dryad species that got themselves a good reworking and update. My old version was way too bland and I easily forgot they even existed. So I turned them into a hybrid and gave them a better look!

#dryad #plant monster #plant creature #mangrove tree #mangrove #art #drawing

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script-a-world · 5 years

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I hope this isn't a silly question but can beaches be in downtown areas? I personally live in a downtown area full of high rises with the harbour right in front of it. So why can't harbour be replaced with beach. Also some beach pics I find actually have lots of high rises in the backdrop, aren't those downtown areas too? Anyway both my beta and a writing friend are saying that beach in downtown makes no sense.

Synth: Downtown beaches are absolutely a thing that exist, though depending on the level of urbanization, they may not be naturally occurring ones. Last year the city I live in built a permanent beach downtown. Replaced an old docking area with gently sloping concrete slabs and dumped a whole load of sand on them. It has been very popular. IIRC Paris does something similar, trucking in huge amounts of sand to build temporary beaches in a few spots along the Seine during summertime (IDK what happens with all the sand when summer is over). If your city was carefully planned by the original builders, it’s not far-fetched at all to think they would have worked around any already existing natural beaches to preserve them for its citizens’ use.

Tex: I need to orient myself a little bit on this question, so I’m going to pull out a few definitions here.

Downtown:

Downtown is a term primarily used in North America by English-speakers to refer to a city's commercial, cultural and often the historical, political and geographic heart, and is often synonymous with its central business district(CBD). In British English, the term "city centre" is most often used instead. The two terms are used interchangeably in Colombia.

The Oxford English Dictionary's first citation for "down town" or "downtown" dates to 1770, in reference to the center of Boston.[2] Some have posited that the term "downtown" was coined in New York City, where it was in use by the 1830s to refer to the original town at the southern tip of the island of Manhattan.[3] As the town of New York grew into a city, the only direction it could grow on the island was toward the north, proceeding upriver from the original settlement, the "up" and "down" terminology coming from the customary map design in which up was north and down was south.[3] Thus, anything north of the original town became known as "uptown" (Upper Manhattan), and was generally a residential area, while the original town – which was also New York's only major center of business at the time – became known as "downtown" (Lower Manhattan).[3]

Beach:

A beach is a landform alongside a body of water which consists of loose particles. The particles composing a beach are typically made from rock, such as sand, gravel, shingle, pebbles. The particles can also be biological in origin, such as mollusc shells or coralline algae.

Some beaches have man-made infrastructure, such as lifeguard posts, changing rooms, showers, shacks and bars. They may also have hospitality venues (such as resorts, camps, hotels, and restaurants) nearby. Wild beaches, also known as undeveloped or undiscovered beaches, are not developed in this manner. Wild beaches can be appreciated for their untouched beauty and preserved nature.

Beaches typically occur in areas along the coast where wave or current action deposits and reworks sediments.

Harbour:

A harbor or harbour (see spelling differences; synonyms: wharves, haven) is a sheltered body of water where ships, boats, and barges can be docked. The term harbor is often used interchangeably with port, which is a man-made facility built for loading and unloading vessels and dropping off and picking up passengers. Ports usually include one or more harbors. Alexandria Port in Egypt is an example of a port with two harbors.

Harbors may be natural or artificial. An artificial harbor can have deliberately constructed breakwaters, sea walls, or jettys or they can be constructed by dredging, which requires maintenance by further periodic dredging. An example of an artificial harbor is Long Beach Harbor, California, United States, which was an array of salt marshes and tidal flats too shallow for modern merchant ships before it was first dredged in the early 20th century.[1] In contrast, a natural harbor is surrounded on several sides by prominences of land. Examples of natural harbors include Sydney Harbour, Australia and Trincomalee Harbour in Sri Lanka.

Since “downtown” usually means a highly-developed area, there’s a 50/50 chance that they’ll even be near a body of water - and if they are, the coastal areas are possibly also developed into harbours/wharves because water transportation of goods is economically efficient. Under these constraints, a beach would be a stretch of un- or under-developed coastline that doesn’t generate as much revenue for the taxable area it’s connected to compared to a harbour.

Frequently, beaches generate revenue under the auspices of tourism, which means that the area would be cultivated accordingly - esplanades, or promenades, are a popular choice, and often grow near a harbor as a natural extension of a money-generating area. Seaside resorts are a closely-related cousin of esplanades, and sometimes have the focus of being a retreat.

Many of the beaches I’ve been to that have high-rises in the background are either those of hotels - who might own the beach property adjacent to their building(s) - or those of businesses. Idyllic beachfront properties that have a low overall skyline can be low-populated areas (which usually mean drawing a low-income from tourism), protected areas of varying degrees, unsafe for people to play in, or are owned by people in the immediate residential areas and thus private property.

Artificially-constructed beaches, as Synth mentioned, are possible but often costly because of the amount of effort and material that needs to be brought in. Those who build such things need to consider the possible costs and revenue of a beach compared to a harbor, and whether it would be financially beneficial for the area to convert it.

Highly-developed areas like city centers carry the risk of polluting the nearby environment, as evidenced by the history of:

The Nashua River in the US

The Ganges River of the Indian subcontinent

The Citarum River in Indonesia

The Yellow River in China

The Sarno River in Italy

The Matanza River of Argentina

The Gulf of Mexico “dead zone”

The Kamilo Beach of Hawai’i

Guanabara Bay in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Bajos de Haina in the Dominican Republic

Hann Bay in Senegal

Your beta and writing friend do, unfortunately, have a point - downtown beaches are rarely a thing, and if they are then they’re not likely to be very well-maintained or aesthetically-pleasing. It is possible to have one, if they follow the model that Synth mentioned, but it’s usually expensive, time-consuming, difficult to keep sufficiently clean, and their existence needs to be balanced against the current revenue-generating area that is probably a harbour.

If the society you’re worldbuilding settles a coastal area with the intent to preserve the coast and develop it into a beach, you have a good shot of putting one into your story, but harbours are disinclined in many ways to be replaced by a beach.

Constablewrites: Our idea of the beach as a pleasant leisure destination seems to have started with the English upper classes in the 1700s, and expanded as the growth of the middle class and advances in travel technology made tourism accessible to a larger population. And the business district of a city is built on commerce, which in our world heavily involves shipping. So if the city was developed before industrialization, its planners were far more likely to look at a beach and think “what a terrible place to unload a ship, we should fix that” than “oh, how pretty, people might come here to relax.” Plus, “downtown” generally refers to an area of only a few square miles at most where real estate is in high demand, so any stretch of open land is unlikely to remain open for long.

Now, because today we do value beaches as pleasant leisure destinations, it’s entirely possible that a city might create an artificial beach along its coast. River beaches are also a thing in several European cities, and many of them are temporary summer installations made with imported sand. And though they’re unlikely to be strictly in the downtown area, you can indeed find beaches in highly urbanized areas like in Miami, Vancouver, and frankly most of Southern California but let’s specifically say Santa Monica. But a city developing organically isn’t going to have a beach unless there’s significant incentive to designate and maintain one instead of using that land for something more lucrative. And unless the city was founded and built specifically around tourism, a beach is always going to be in addition to a city’s harbor, never in place of it. (Hell, even then. Cruise ships were one of the earliest and still an extremely popular method of tourism, and even if your tourists want to see the beach, they’re not getting to it without a harbor.)

Feral: Downtowns may be on waterfronts, but as previously pointed out, downtowns are generally not going to be developed on naturally occurring beaches, here being the sandy, ocean front stretches of land. Tex and Constable bring up great points about economic incentive, but also consider the physical constraints of what can be built on the beach - I think Jesus had something to say about building castles on sand, and as the son of a carpenter, I think he would know. In the States, Chicago and Charleston come to mind as being particularly relevant to your query.

Chicago is on Lake Michigan, which does have a sandy beach that is somewhat removed from downtown by various parks and smaller scale infrastructure. Downtown Charleston is a peninsula formed by the confluence of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers where they join to flow into the ocean, creating a small bay. The beaches associated with Charleston are actually on the nearby islands, not downtown Charleston, which has piers, wharfs, etc, as expected in a city founded by pirates.

A lot of the question of whether you can feasibly “build” a downtown on a beach is how built - literally - up you want it to be. The incredible innovation that went into building Chicago’s downtown, particularly its high rises and skyscrapers, is pretty well known in a general sense but you might want to look into how they were able to accomplish what they have given the very difficult topography. Charleston has no skyscrapers. In addition to the unstable, sandy soil, building in Charleston is made more unstable by being in an earthquake prone area. The big issues with downtowns being on traditional sandy beaches are the quality of the soil and bedrock and the question of erosion, which is a greater issue when dealing with ocean currents and tides.

Basically, it’s not impossible for a downtown area to have a beach, but given the issues that beaches present to building a downtown and the economic influences of why there would or would not be a beach, it’s unlikely without a lot of story behind it. And as you’re writing a story… that might be worthwhile to you. Or it might be a distraction from the story you really want to tell.

#pylons #beaches #Anonymous

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kalico-to-the-letter · 5 years

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REVIEW // RWBY | 6.12 | “SEEING RED”

AKA love.

Welcome in to my review of Volume 6, Chapter 12, entitled, “Seeing Red”.

In this episode: One fight becomes pointless. Another fight ends.

Deep breath, everybody.

ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING.

As someone who was watched a lot of episodic stories, be it web series like RWBY, or an anime, or western television, I can say that one of my favourite experiences is seeing a long-term storyline come together and hit its climax.

I don’t write this to suggest that the culmination of Blake and Yang’s story is the best thing I’ve ever seen – who knows what that even is, after all these years? But it’s still really damn good, and the definite standout of a great episode.

You know, the story of Blake and Yang is one defined by demons, both internal and external – even going back to Volume 2, when an insomnia-riddled Blake spent ages jumping at shadows and snapping at her teammates until Yang was finally able to snap her out of it.

Of course, it undoubtedly took off at the end of Volume 3. One girl losing an arm and the other fleeing in the dead of night will do that for a storyline like theirs. Between then and now, Blake has spent two seasons embroiled in the Menagerie uprising and at times clearly has avoided reflecting on what happened with Yang. On the other hand, Yang was left alone to confront trauma and disability, and eventually had to deal with reuniting with Weiss, Ruby, and her estranged mother, with the thought of Blake very much on her agenda throughout. It’s an uneven divvying up of them time, to say the least. And while this season has teased great explorations of their relationship, those execution has been disappointingly limited to some flashes and the odd good scene here and there.

Not to mention that the primary spectre of the storyline, Adam, fulfilled the minimum requirements for a character of his kind without providing a whole lot of depth. At this point in the story – the penultimate episode of Volume 6, he solely existed to be vanquished and provide closure to this loop.

But even with those foibles, this is ultimately a story of the love between two people conquering the demons that threatened to rip them apart, and it manages all those requisite beats with aplomb.

The fight itself is shorter than expected, but constructed with enough efficiency that it doesn’t shortchange the viewer. Psychologically, it’s satisfying and consistent, calling back to some of Yang and Blake’s old moments of teamwork. I love the use of Blake’s broken sword as the thing that finally does Adam in. The fight dredges up the problems between Yang and Blake, correctly pointing out Blake’s abandonment and Yang’s past failure against Adam and everything that came as a result. And the story uses that thread to craft its conclusion; individually and as partners, Blake and Yang prove wrong Adam’s ideas of them, and beat him by affirming their bond. Lovely, that.

And this is just one half of a great episode.

It’s not that the conclusion to Gang vs Mecha Cordovin can match the other story for significance or action. This particular fight – and its fallout – is far more about establishing images to set up the finale rather than providing catharsis, but these images set up enough to have me very interested indeed in whatever is to come.

There’s Ruby diving into the barrel of the mecha suit’s cannon, all maturity and growth, disabling the weapon. And before that, standing up to the Atlesian zealot and speaking the real about the pointlessness of their fight, and shrugging off Qrow’s concern. It’s not as if she knows she’s absolutely going to win, either, but she knows there’s always another way to get where she and her friends need to go. There is Cordovin herself, someone who has let her grand proclamations and her desire for control obscure the true purpose of her presence in Argus. And while I feel that the sudden appearance of the Leviathan is a cheap way to create some higher stakes for a finale otherwise lacking in obvious crisis points (due to the mismanagement of the antagonists aside from Cordovin and Adam), the dynamic it creates with Cordovin’s delusion is one I really enjoy. And it looks pretty badass, stomping through the ocean like that. Reminds me a lot of Nier: Automata.

But now, we as the viewers know that Cordovin cannot be relied upon to deal with the new Grimm threat, right? Good thing a certain red-caped someone has been sufficiently built up to the point that she can just step into being the new Guardian of Argus in Cordovin’s place.

So, despite my issues with how the back end of this season has chosen to ignore much of the early setups, the season as a whole has been thorough and consistent with Ruby’s storyline, and it’s set to deliver right to the very end. And now the finale has a clear direction, something it’s been lacking up to this point. Take that, and add everything that Yang and Blake have just done? I would say there’s still plenty to feel good about with this season, and this penultimate episode did quite a bit to restore my positivity for what’s to come.

OBSERVATIONS

Ima discuss the particulars of that relationship here, because I don’t want to bog the review down. Some people may think it absolutely matters for the show to be more explicit in defining what now exists between Yang and Blake. And while I understand that argument on representation grounds, I do also subscribe to the idea that some bonds transcend explicit labels. Now, I will say that what these two now have is love, or something close enough that the difference is irrelevant, but personally, I feel that arguing over “romantic” or “platonic” in this case will just be pointless semantics, and ignore the clear and obvious beauty in how these two are depicted together.

I’ll discuss Ruby in greater depth with the finale. While there is plenty I could say about how this episode all but solidifies Ruby’s growth across this season, I have a feeling that another important chapter will be added to her story next week.

Goddamn, Adam got the sticks put in him. Huh?

That moment again: Yang catches another charged slash, and tosses Adam’s sword into the water. He goes after it, only to be hit with an out-of-nowhere uppercut from Blake. They both lunge for a piece of Blake’s broken sword; Blake gets there first, and Yang picks up the other piece. From there, it’s academic. This fight in its entirety has been very well-staged across the three episodes.

“What does she even see in you?” – Adam. I’ll just leave that line there.

For many years, I’ve been a Blake/Weiss shipper. If you’ve read my fan fiction, you know this. Since I stopped writing fan fiction, however, I haven’t really “shipped” any particular pairings. These days, I more or less just pay attention to what the show does with its relationships and do my best to explore them as they come. All of this is to preface my statement that I love how the show has built this relationship between Blake and Yang. In the early days of the series, I wasn’t a big fan of them together, just because Yang’s character was too thin for me to buy into the ship beyond a surface level. Of course, Yang has since gone on to become a fantastic character … it’s funny how these things evolve.

Cordovin paints an interesting picture of the “Atlas Superiority Complex”, doesn’t she?

I imagine that Yang and Blake won’t be asked to do too much fighting in the finale.

GRADE: A-

While reservations about squandered story potential remain and will likely persist beyond Volume 6’s conclusion, “Seeing Red” cleans up the trajectory of the season’s endgame and creates some interesting character-based action and drama for next week’s finale. It all but solidifies Ruby’s ascendancy as a heroine, and even though the reappearance of Grimm at this point smacks of lazy writing, it creates interesting stakes nonetheless. But of course, this episode’s strength is buoyed by the culmination of Yang and Blake’s long-running storyline. Emotionally satisfying as well as efficiently crafted, their final showdown with Adam is a beautiful affirmation of their bond and everything that has gone into it up to this point. – KALLIE

#rwby spoilers #rwby reviews #rwby6 #rwby volume 6 #rwby

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ossian-bard · 5 years

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The Forgotten Color (1st draft)

By: Ryley Hendricks

It is in only in my final hour upon this mortal coil do I find myself penning this, lest my friends and family fall for my same follies. I do not expect you nor others to believe this inscrutable tale that I'm about to divulge. Because even I find these words perturbed when absorbed by the sane mind. But nevertheless harken now and know this, from hence forth, all you read will be nothing but the staunch unsettling truth.

It began on a cold autumn morning; frigid clouds had sunk down with a thick eerie fog that draped the wild murk woods of west Arkham, Massachusetts. The pristine hardwoods, that have gone without knowing the touch of an axe for millenniums, were all now in a brilliant show of wondrous iridescence. Amongst those towering moss laden trees were the occasional skeletal remains of foreigners and the caving cottages of old farmers who long since pushed off for one reason or another. Many people have came and went though throughout the long history of those woods you see, while some left due to the re-imagining of Arkham most had left due in part to something else. Something that can't be seen or heard or scantly comprehended. Something that sends it's tap root tendrils deep into the imagination, soiling the dreams of restful sleepers. In fact the town’s mayor knew of these stories and used it for marketing to much success for Arkham.

Indeed, October was the month for Arkham. I hadn't been in the town for more than a month doing temp work for the local mayor's office while they transferred over from a old archive system of

It was the time of the year where they saw the greatest throngs of sight seers coming in with bulging pocketbooks and stretched bill folds. Women and children hearing the spooky stories that surround the small town and were enthralled with the rumors of unusual death that oozed in every dark nook of the city. Such strange stories the natives spoke of; trees moving against the wind, insects staying active even in the winter months, or the occasional strange gray mold like substance that could be found here or there. All of it seemed so childlike in its simplicity of haunting mannerisms, like children telling other children what scares them around the campfire. That's how I felt listening to everyone gab on and on about the history of the town.

It grew darker here sooner than anywhere else I've been. The hours went unaccounted for and the next thing my inebriated mind could manage was that this gnarled driftwood of a man’s face as he plopped down right in front of me. His face was of creased and well worn numerous wrinkles of worry, but striking me with a sobering clarity was this man’s eyes. Deep and chillingly dark like the bottom of a well, he looked straight at me without a hint of feeling. As if he was seeing something beyond me in another corner of the room, so much so that I turned to see what it could be that he was looking at but I saw nothing unusual. He grabbed my forearm with a solid clasp and without taking his dreary eye off that corner of the room he began in a subterranean whisper of a voice. At first his words didn’t make much to the way of sense, babbling about some scorched soil and tainted earth that came from some alien seed that came clamoring down to earth one fateful night. But what eventually got my attention was the mentioning of a father who killed his three sons and drove his wife to madness because the earth had gone sour supposedly. Saying things to everyone with ears about how the trees moved with some supernatural color and how it killed his livestock in a gray ashy plague. This bridge troll of a man proceed to spindle this story about how it started to make the whole hillside grow in a cancerous way. How men came from the city and local college to examine the surround woods and the remains of the family but how soon no one even dare approach the farm as it soon became known as something called the blasted heath. It was then that I asked of what became of this place and the seed, he shook his head and revealed a pamphlet with a town map from the visitor center from a cargo pocket of his stained army jacket. There he took his osseous finger tip and poked a hole straight through the pamphlet, right through the middle of the lake. Exclaiming “Right here, in the deepest slimiest depth resides the only thing that may give even hint of what happened to the old Gardner place...” after which last call sounded from the countertop of the bar calling for the rank and file of the people to shuffle out of the bar and into the autumn chill. Taking once glance away and then looking back to where the old codger sat and saw nothing in his seat.

At first I thought it some macabre machination of a mind left to listlessness, a paragon of people seeking refuge in the fanciful worlds of imagination. But it had been so long since I’ve heard such a interesting and hauntingly amusing tale that thoughts of being around the campfire for it’s retelling made it tantalizing. So with an unfettered curiosity sparked by this superficial aversion and despite the numerous warnings of evil (and admittedly encouraged by alcohol's false bravado). I immediately made underway for the reservoir. Following the pamphlet map and the only overgrown washed out road further north, I hiked for almost rest of the night and then into the morning. Noticing that with every step I took though, the forest was growing more and more unsettlingly still. Perchance this was nothing more than the hard liquors settling in like a bad stomach ache but I felt the stupor evaporate off me in the cold night air. At that moment it seemed that the further I pursued northwards the more the more the trees became grotesque. The wood grew too thickly and the trunks too gnarled and stunted for any healthy New England wood. Even the sounds of smaller feeder creaks that bubbled down the hills had slowly faded out with seemingly. No bird song in the naked tree tops, no rustling amongst the fallen leaves and even my own steps growing duller in time. The deeper I ventured the more the woods seemed to invite me in, with the impervious coppice becoming easier and easier to navigate. Granting passage further and further inland until before me stood that blackened watery bruise; Arkham Lake.

God almighty, I will never forget in all my days that stygian loch of human engineering. Arriving just as the rays of morning light were being choked out behind the massive swell of craggy bluffs off to the west. I found my perch on the southern most ridge that overlooked the sprawling valley which housed the massive lake. Daring not to take another step inwards, I strained my eyes to look out over into the inky basin. First thing that bombarded my senses was the putrid smell. Those 25 solid miles of noxious water reeked of rotting things, even from a great distance away. Instantly I understood why the people in town knew little to nothing about the lake. Just upon looking upon its expanse you felt that something was off and alarms in your head soon followed saying that something was not quite right. That there was something in those blacken waters and should probably remain there. The whole entirety of the water was enough to make my face distort with disgust as the smell coated the tongue with a leathery taste. With pebbly shorelines stained from the fetid waters rolling in as if lake was an ink well. Gray grainy dust blanketed the landscape surrounding the lake like a sickly film which seemed to cling to any purchase or exposed surface. Grass surrounding the beach was blackened and brittle, matchstick trees withered like recently emancipated Jews in concentration camps. The water itself was like a placid mirror reflecting the vacuous ocean of emptiness above; an unblemished glass of ebonite fathoms that sent a slimy slither down your shambling vertibre.

(Still very much in progress but wanted to just cast it out in the cosmos and see what dredged up)

#autistic writer #spilled writing #short story #my writing #my work #wip #wip intro #mythology

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recentanimenews · 2 years

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FEATURE: 5 Moments When Conny And Sasha Were The Cutest Besties

From the moment they first crossed paths in basic training, it would seem as though Conny Springer and Sasha Braus were destined to be thick as thieves.

They both come from quiet villages out on the fringes of Wall Rose, brought up to be honest, hardworking, decent folk. More than that, their personalities just clicked in a way that became truly legendary.

Whether you consider them to be a pair of bumbling dweebs or the spirited soul of the Scout Regiment, you cannot deny that they are simply simpatico.

Eldians may not have a lot to be cheerful about in these dire times, but darn it, we’re going to try. So to celebrate Conny’s birthday, May 2nd, we’re looking back on the moments when he and Sasha were the best of besties.

This Is Peak Form

For many eager recruits, hand-to-hand combat training feels like something of a wasteful practice. When will it possibly be of any use when your enemies are ten feet tall and intent only on devouring you whole? It’s not like anyone is going to employ a judo throw to fell a Titan, though Mikasa might have at least a fighting chance.

You can count Conny and Sasha amongst those who take this part of their training a little bit less than seriously, opting instead to goof around and show off their rather unorthodox fighting style. It adds brief levity to a tense period in their lives, though alas, it isn’t long before their instructor catches wind and snatches Conny up by the noggin like a ripe watermelon.

RELATED: Attack on Titan Reveals Collabs With Steve Aoki's Dim Mak, 100Thieves' Higround

Who knows? Perhaps they actually were attempting to dazzle potential foes with their bold stances and were merely cut short before they could master their technique? Dang it, Shadis, you may have just interrupted humanity’s greatest chance of survival against the Titans. We’ll always have to wonder …

Haters Gonna Hate, Potatoes Gonna Potate

Conny and Sasha have something of a love/hate relationship with their colleague, Jean Kirschtein. At times, he could even be considered their third, while in other situations, he sets himself as diametrically opposed to their shenanigans.

The latter is true during an ODM training session where he accuses them of stealing his target. They brush off this claim at first — Titans ain’t gonna wait for you to call out your marks there, Jean boy — until he dredges up a painful memory from Sasha’s past when he calls her Potato Girl.

The indignity! The shame! The starch!!

Conny isn’t taking this sitting down and quickly comes to Sasha’s aid to demand an apology. When Jean raises a fist to threaten them, the duo spring into action, taking a defensive stance to fend him off. And yes, it’s the exact same stance they attempted in the aforementioned combat training, lending further credence to the notion that this is indeed not a position to be trifled with.

Beach Buddies

It’s safe to say that by the time the Scout Regiment have completed the mission to retake Shiganshina, they’ve earned themselves a vacation. Or a retirement. At the very least, some kind of serious counseling.

Such joys are far and few between for our beleaguered heroes, but at the very least, some six years after the fall of Wall Maria, they are at long last able to take a festive day trip out to the ocean. That’s always bound to be a good time, and it’s amplified by the fact that the Scouts have never seen the ocean before and were not even certain it truly existed.

RELATED: Why Are Anime Moms Always Doomed?

Getting to see Conny and Sasha playfully kick water at each other before taking Jean down for a dunk is enough to brighten almost anyone’s day.

Yeah, I’m looking right at you, Eren. Really Jaegered the fun right out of that experience, didn’t you?

You Guys Are Special

As the years pass, the lifespan of a hero in Attack on Titan feels ever more ephemeral, and the celebratory ecstasy of a successful operation becomes increasingly replaced with a somber relief that you came home at all.

Following the raid on Liberio, Conny has a different air about him, making his way toward Sasha and Jean — the latter of whom has gotten quite the timeskip glow-up, while we’re on the subject. The pair had been opining on the losses they had taken, wondering how many more would have to die. Conny, however, can take solace in the fact that the two people he cares about most in the world would live to see another day.

Not every deep moment of kinship is necessarily a joyful one, and this instance, in particular, is steeped in severe trauma and troubling reflection. Will theirs be a friendship that will last forever? They can’t be too sure, but they sure will give it a shot.

Idiots

The fact that anyone who inherits the power of the Nine Titans is limited to only a 13-year lifespan makes it quite the serious commitment. Ultimate power at the exchange of an eventual certain death is nothing to be trifled with, and after several years of Titan shenanigans, Eren begins to look ahead to what comes next.

Someone will have to inherit his Titan, and most likely, that fate will fall upon one of his trusted colleagues in the Scout Regiment. When Conny voices his opinion that he’d be the most logical recipient, Sasha offers a biting counterargument: that he is an idiot who cannot be trusted with such an important role. Therefore, she ought to be the one to bear the burden.

RELATED: Attack on Titan, Demon Slayer Lead Japanese Fans' Top Anime for Winter 2022

Here, Conny sees a flaw. As he understands it, Sasha is an even bigger idiot than he is, which completely undermines the point she had been trying to make. They stare at each other in shared bewilderment for a few moments. It’s intense and yet hilarious all at once.

Every now and then, you’ve got to call your bestie out on their nonsense. It may even lead to you both discovering you have even more in common than you thought.

Oh, Conny. Even when things look most grim, you do your best to shine a light in the darkness. Sometimes your jokes don’t quite land and your mom is a bit of a weirdo, but it’s safe to say that every moment you and Sasha share the screen, it’s going to be a highlight of everyone’s day.

By: Tony Cocking

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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shirlleycoyle · 3 years

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An Incredibly Toxic Lake Will Become One of the US’s First Lithium Mines

One of the United States' first major forays into lithium mining seems like it's going to be in the Salton Sea—one of the most polluted places in the country—after General Motors struck a deal with a mining company called Controlled Thermal Resources.

This is a big, and potentially very complicated, deal for anyone who cares about the planet. Many experts believe that in order to have any hope of staving off climate change, we have to electrify cars and essentially everything else as soon as possible (ideally, yesterday).

Lithium-ion batteries are key to this process, and global demand is expected to increase between 5 and 18 times over the next several years. Put simply, we will need a lot of lithium, and the overwhelming majority of lithium in today's batteries comes from Australia, Chile, China, and Argentina. But the American southwest has huge stores of lithium as well.

General Motors is hoping that a CTR mine in the Salton Sea can supply “a significant portion” of the lithium needed for its electric cars. It’s a step toward GM’s first-in-the-nation commitment to phasing gasoline-powered cars out of its production line by 2035—CTR is slated to start delivering lithium to the company by 2024, at which point the company will be well-poised to achieve this goal.

This is, potentially, a very good thing. But it's also complicated: Mining, broadly speaking, is environmentally destructive. Lithium mining is usually—but not always—less destructive than, say, strip mining. And the Salton Sea, an accidental reservoir near California vacation mainstays like Joshua Tree and Palm Springs, is one of the most polluted places on the planet due to decades of agricultural runoff. Environmentalists there worry that if the lake continues to dry up, toxic dust on its floor could go airborne and pollute the air between Phoenix and Los Angeles. The lake is understood to hold one of the nation’s largest lithium brine stores, capable of supplying up to 40 percent of global demand for the mineral, according to the California Energy Commission (CEC).

Legislators in California are aiming to position the region as a leader in the race for the mineral, which is widely viewed as essential to the transition away from fossil fuels. California has its own set electric vehicle targets to achieve: All new car sales must be zero-emissions by 2035. Being home to a store of minerals for batteries could make this easier, and this so-called soon-to-be “lithium valley” is leading the way.

“Right here in Southern California, we have the enormous opportunity to be a competitive player in the world lithium market,” said California Assemblymember Eduardo Garcia, who represents Imperial County, where the Salton Sea is located, in a May committee hearing on the resource.

CTR claims its production process is self-contained and environmentally sound. It plans to use renewable energy to extract the mineral, which can be found in rocks, clays and underground reservoirs of brine. The Salton Sea is already home to a complex of 10 geothermal power stations, which pump steam from underground into generators and create a saline brine byproduct that is rich in lithium and send it back into the earth. CTR’s proposal would instead send that brine into open pits, where it would evaporate, eliminating water and leaving minerals for processing behind.

The proposal takes advantage of existing energy production processes without requiring much additional land. Proponents say this method would cut down on the industry’s environmental footprint.

But to community members around the proposed mines, ramping up lithium extraction feels complicated. The Salton Sea was created accidentally in 1905 after a portion of the Colorado River spilled out of its irrigation system—at 200 feet below sea level, it’s what’s called a “terminal” or “endorheic” lake, one lacking an outlet, that water from the Colorado River and runoff from nearby agricultural irrigation drains into, but not out of. The only way water in the lake can depart it is through evaporation, a process that leaves behind a fair amount of salt. Multiplied by the salinity of runoff it receives, the Salton Sea has become very salty—50 percent moreso than the Pacific ocean.

Image: David McNew/Getty Images

The Salton Sea was once a resort area, with a series of small towns and vacation spots on its coasts. It is now so toxic that few creatures can live in its waters, though it is still an ecologically important area for migratory birds. Some of the towns, such as Bombay Beach, have essentially become ghost towns over the past few decades.

Chemicals like arsenic, selenium, and pesticides are rampant in the lake’s waters, and their particles have been released into the atmosphere as it dries, which is happening at an increasing rate as drought grips the west coast. Communities around the sea have long felt the burden of pollutant exposure; asthma-related emergency room visits are more than double the state average and nearly a third of children experience respiratory symptoms like wheezing, allergies, and dry cough, medical surveys have found.

So, ramping up mining in one of the state’s most polluted counties—where 85 percent of residents are Hispanic or Latino and 22 percent live under the poverty line—feels risky to environmental justice organizers like Miguel Hernandez, communications coordinator at Comité Cívico del Valle. Hernandez hopes to see producers and local legislators make an effort to inform residents about the possible, yet-mostly-unknown health effects of lithium mining, which is water-intensive and produces a fair amount of mineral waste. The concerns pollution researchers like Katie Burnworth, who monitors the Salton Sea for the Imperial County Air Pollution Control District.

“It’s a dangerous, dirty process, with a lot of unknown material,” Burnworth told the California Desert Sun in February.

So far, Hernandez says, this educational effort has yet to happen.

“We actually go out there and knock on doors,” Hernandez said. “For those families that I've been able to talk to, it's either little to no information has been shared to them, or they just have what's out there by the media.”

Beyond California, lithium mining across the country has garnered widespread controversy in recent months. A proposed mine in Nevada, called Thacker Pass, was the site of protest in the Spring from local Indigenous communities and environmentalists who feared mining could deplete the already-dry region’s water stores, generate waste and emit thousands of tons of carbon dioxide.

All of that said, absent a massive degrowth movement that significantly reduces the amount of energy society uses, many experts believe we need lithium to decarbonize. Proponents of lithium mining say it is less environmentally destructive than mining for oil and coal, but it's also not good for the environment, and, broadly speaking, lithium mining uses a lot of water. The American southwest is already facing intense water shortages and drought, though the lithium in the Salton Sea is already in brine form.

Kyle Wiens, CEO of iFixit, a technology repair company that seeks to extend the life of electronics, believes mining of any kind is inherently harmful, and “one of the worst things that we do as a species.”

“There is incredible environmental destruction that comes from it,” Wiens said.

But few extraction projects have Wiens—who says he devotes much of his time at iFixit to thinking about the depletion of nonrenewable resources—as optimistic as this one. The idea of using existing energy production to create something that would otherwise be shot back into the ground feels “pretty darn promising,” he says, noting that putting that effort toward a resource that would fuel the transition away from oil and gas is worthwhile.

“This to me seems like a perfectly common sense win-win situation,” Wiens says. “We don't have to dredge the desert … it's already in this liquid that we're circulating [for geothermal energy] anyway.”

Indeed, this argument is at the center of what’s splintered environmentalists about the hunt for lithium, among other minerals required to create solar panels, wind turbines and batteries. Some believe mining is a necessary evil and a requisite in the transition to renewables; others fear this is a bandaid for the broader issue of overconsumption, and say maintaining an extraction-based economy will not do enough to curb climate change. (Wiens, for his part, takes solace in seeing a broadening cohort of startups recycling lithium in batteries, which only became lucrative at scale recently, as the number of electric vehicles on the roads has shot up).

In a press release, CTR said that “The integration of direct lithium extraction with renewable geothermal energy offers the highest sustainability credentials available today. CTR’s closed-loop, direct lithium extraction process utilizes renewable power and steam – significantly reducing the time to produce battery-grade lithium products and eliminating the need for overseas processing. CTR’s operations will have a minimal physical footprint and a near-zero carbon footprint. The brine, after lithium extraction, is returned to the geothermal reservoir deep within the earth.” CTR provided the press release in response to a Motherboard request for comment.

Bringing job opportunities to a region with unemployment rates that have historically hovered around 20 percent could also flush cash into projects that need it badly, like pollution mitigation, education, infrastructure and healthcare, Wiens notes. Rodriguez echoes that belief, but isn't ready to get too excited. A recent solar buildout in Imperial County saw massive land use with little economic gains for the region because of tax exemptions and a slew of jobs handed to outsiders, he says.

Rodriguez would like to see local jobs and training programs come out of the CTR contract—an ask that’s still up in the air as the producer undergoes permitting processes. Ryan Kelly, representative of the district that’s home to the Salton Sea on the Imperial County Board of Supervisors, says this is a concern, one that he’s yet to broach with GM.

But as vice chair of the Lithium Valley Commission (a governing board Gov. Gavin Newsom created last September devoted to guiding the buildout of mining opportunities in the region), Kelly is currently fighting to pass an ordinance that would place a levy on the mineral, securing income from the mines for local projects like schooling and infrastructure.

Made up of representatives from industry, government, environmental groups, and community advocacy organizations like Hernandez’s, the commission’s goal is to facilitate conversation around economic and environmental concerns, and to draft a set of recommendations for the sector as it emerges in southern California.

“What community-based organizations want to know is how are these large companies going to play a part in our community?” Kelly said. “What are they going to give back for what they take?”

Indeed, Hernandez says having a seat at the table is heartening for Comité Cívico del Valle. “I think this is the first, or one of the first opportunities that the community is able to be represented in these situations,” he notes.

But the commission’s framework is non-binding, meaning, once they pass an environmental impact review, companies like CTR do not have to follow the recommendations. Kelly is hopeful that this won’t be an issue (“Maybe I'm being a little too optimistic, but so far we haven't had any arguments,” he said, of the commission, with a laugh.)

Hernandez is hopeful, too—but he believes the next stages of approval in GM’s contract will be telling.

“I'm not against the industry, or any industry, but I'm a huge advocate for doing things right,” Rodriguez says. “Let's assume it's gonna be part of our communities. Then, let's make lithium a good neighbor.”

Motherboard reached out to representatives at General Motors but we did not hear back.

An Incredibly Toxic Lake Will Become One of the US’s First Lithium Mines syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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hudsonespie · 3 years

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How Container Ships Got so Big, and Why They're Causing Problems

[By Evangelos Boulougouris]

The six-day blockage of the Suez Canal by a megaship named Ever Given came to an end on March 29 after salvage teams used dredging and tug boats to heave the vessel back into operation.

The capacity of a single vessel to block one of the world’s busiest shipping corridors, creating a traffic jam of hundreds of boats, has sparked a debate about the ever-growing size of megaships, with the Ever Given’s accident taken as evidence that they’ve simply become too large.

At 400 meters long, the Ever Given is indeed among the largest one percent of the world’s fleet. Its high-profile accident will result in a new wave of precautions to make megaships safer, but it will also prompt the shipping industry to reflect on whether such gigantic vessels actually do more harm than good.

Bigger boats

Container ships have been increasing in size for decades in order to carry more containers on each voyage. According to analysis from Allianz, the number of 20-foot containers that ships can carry has increased by 1,500 percent over the past 50 years.

One of the most significant size upgrades came when Maersk introduced its E-series in 2006, which can carry around 15,000 containers – doubling the capacity of the previous largest container ships.

In the 15 years since then, some 133 ships have been launched with a carrying capacity of between 18,000 and 24,000 containers. These are classed as ultra large container vessels – the biggest boats in the world. The Ever Given is one such vessel.

Author provided

Economies of scale

Megaships are particularly attractive for international shipping firms because they offer economies of scale: the larger the ship, the more efficient it is at transporting goods.

The Ever Given can carry 20,000 containers, while so-called very large containerships can carry a maximum of just 9,000 containers. Using just one vessel instead of two to carry the same load saves fuel, significantly reduces the cost of transportation per container, and reduces the ship’s environmental footprint.

When megaships were first introduced, there were doubts about whether they’d actually use their huge carrying capacity. But evidence suggests they do: the Ever Given was reportedly carrying more than 18,000 containers when it became wedged in the Suez Canal. Unfortunately, carrying this many containers also has its downsides.

Megaship downsides

Operating megaships in confined waterways has already been shown to be difficult. Stacking them high with containers doesn’t help: it can lead the vessels to catch the wind and become even harder to control, which may have played a role in the Ever Given’s grounding.

When caught in a storm on open seas, such ships may also be more prone to losing containers overboard. According to recent analysis, at least five of the largest class of container ship lost containers during this year’s winter storm season in the Pacific.

Infrastructure is also struggling to cope with these larger ships. According to a 2015 report, ports, straits and canals require expansion to make way for the new class of megaships. The cost of such projects is immense: the expansion of the Panama Canal in 2016 to accommodate bigger ships ended up costing over $5 billion. In light of these infrastructural concerns, there may be an economic argument against expanding the number or size of megaships in our seas.

Size to blame?

An investigation is ongoing into the cause of the Ever Given’s accident, which should tell us to what extent her size was responsible. Based on previous incidents, strong winds, malfunctioning machinery and even human error could equally be to blame.

My research at the Maritime Safety Research Centre studies incidents such as this one, trying to understand the hazards and risks that may contribute to maritime accidents. When operational vessels run into trouble, we can learn from them to avoid accidents happening again.

If the Ever Given’s size was to blame for its accident, you’d expect other megaships, which have been transiting the Suez Canal for years, to have experienced similar difficulties. But a quick check of accident statistics shows that there are only two or three similar incidents involving megaships in the canal per year – out of 19,000 annual crossings.

In most cases, these are minor accidents causing little disruption, and they occur at such a low frequency that the Ever Given’s accident should not be interpreted as evidence that container ships have become too big.

But seeing as the consequences of the Ever Given’s accident were so severe, new maritime safety measures will rightly be put in place to avoid a similar incident happening in the future, such as ship design changes, better pilot training, the use of tug boats as canal escorts, autonomous guidance systems, and the widening of waterways.

Regardless of new safety measures, the Ever Given’s accident may well come to be regarded as a “black swan” event: an unpredictable one-off, rather than a sign of things to come. At present, there’s little evidence to suggest that container ships have become too big, or that the downsides of such megaships should result in their being scrapped.

Evangelos Boulougouris is a professor of naval architecture, ocean and marine engineering at the University of Strathclyde.

This article appears courtesy of The Conversation and may be found in its original form here.

from Storage Containers https://maritime-executive.com/article/op-ed-no-need-to-scrap-megamax-boxships-after-suez-canal-grounding via http://www.rssmix.com/

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yanara126-writing · 3 years

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The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - The Elf Lad and Watching (3/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

Read here or on Ao3. (1366 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Finally, after what felt like at least three turns of the wheel, there was one word that her mouth formed.

“Fuck.”

“Ay, you’re itchin’ for the kindeling touch o’ your sister!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” This was not even worthy of a snort.

“Do I look like it?”

“N-no?”

Upon glancing up again she found the elf looking at her with concern and a half open mouth. Oh, maybe he’d been talking. Ups.

Alas, as she would soon find out, there is no sleep for the watcher.

#Pillars of Eternity #writing #Watcher Hildraed #Edér Teylecg #aloth corfiser #fanfiction #lots of snark

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Werner Herzog On Unlocking the Secrets of the Universe…from Earth

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

There may be nothing more pleasing than watching a room full of scientists erupt in glee as the probe they spent hurtling into space years prior finally touches down on a moving object in the farthest reaches of space. The information and material that the probe will send back can hopefully answer questions of the universe we’ve been trying to ask since the beginning of our existence. Since before humans even walked the earth, however, the dark blanket of the sky has been depositing meteors to our world that hold important answers of the unknown.

The new Apple TV+ documentary Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds by the filmmaking team of Werner Herzog and Clive Oppenheimer takes a look at the history of meteors falling to Earth, and the impact they have on both science and our cultural roots. We spoke with Werner and Clive to discuss the importance of documenting these phenomena and the process of bringing it to audiences in an informational, entertaining package.

DEN OF GEEK: In these types of projects, obviously you want to be able to teach people and show them something they may not know; but is there a need to balance wanting to feed your own curiosities as well?

Werner Herzog: It’s only curiosity. If we wanted to teach somebody, we would be teachers. But it was always clear we must not be didactic. This has to be entertaining, there has to be that excitement of science. It has to be the awe of what we are seeing, then we are on the right track.

Clive Oppenheimer: It’s show business. And cinema.

But in the same breath, obviously we’re in a time right now where science is somehow under attack, it’s more important that we get these things out there for people.

Clive Oppenheimer: I think with the attack on science, this is probably unstoppable and it serves various agendas and vested interests. You know in some ways I’ve seen it, I’ve seen how it operates, and I think we just have to set this aside. We know what we’re about and we know what we’re trying to do with these films. Above all, it’s to make hopefully a lasting piece of art, which brings together music, cinematography, and extraordinary people and locations and ideas of the human imagination.

Talking about cinematography specifically, I think it’s interesting that there’s so much more being captured now because people have cameras in their hands all the time. It’s so interesting to know that we’re catching these physical occurrences like the meteor in Russia because there’s a whole country of people worried about insurance fraud and using dash cams.

Werner Herzog: Well, in Russia it’s not insurance fraud. The police would try to extort money from you, stopping you saying you ran the traffic light and extort money. But that all dates back to Yeltsin’s time when police were not properly paid, when pensions were not paid, when school teachers were not paid. So it was a time of catastrophe for Russia. That’s over, but the dashboard cameras remained in the cars. You see them everywhere.

We were lucky that an event like this was filmed. We were asked by some people who were interested to be in production if we had footage. Yes, but we need this kind of footage in 4k and all there is are such lousy videos from Russian dashboards. And I said, fine, let’s sit with a camera for 800,000 years on Mount Rushmore… maybe we will be sponsored by someone [laughter]. Of course, it’s very fortunate that we have this dash cam footage.

Obviously, the empirical evidence that someone is looking for is coming from these objects as they are studied. But I’m wondering if there are also comparisons that can be made from actual meteors to the space junk that may have fallen back into orbit.

Clive Oppenheimer: I mean, space junk is…I would see this as quite a different kind of phenomenon. There are now archaeologists studying space junk, which I find very, very interesting in itself. But with meteorites we’re looking at things that are four and a half billion years old. So, you know, reaching back to the earliest times of the solar system indeed there are even presolar grains into stellar grains that date before the formation of our own services and that are found in some of these meteorites.

We’re reaching way, way back in time and we’re also looking at objects that have had, and have huge cultural significance for us. One of the earliest recorded falls of a meteorite was in Japan 1200 years ago. The stone is now a relic in a Shinto temple in Nōgata, Japan. Every five years it’s processed through the streets and this fascinates me just as much as the revelation that they’re carbonaceous meteorites full of amino acids and sugars and other organic molecules. So it’s a very rich topic to dig into.

In regards to the organic molecules, when it came to Jon Larsen’s micro meteorites, I remember him saying that they’ve never found one that was exactly like the other. Or that the compounds found in each one never repeat; but in essence, somewhere that has to be something that broke up and split apart…there has to be another one out there to compare it to right?

Werner Herzog: Because I think some of them were always dust, and only at some time in the history of the universe– billions of years ago–they coagulated to solid larger bodies of metal. And I think about what Jon Larsen, the jazz musician turned scientist says, “Dust is the currency of the cosmos.” Some of them never break up; they were always only dust. And that’s the currency of the cosmos

Obviously, it’s going to be easier to study something that lands on a certain type of terrain, but I’m surprised we didn’t hear a lot about something that possibly may have been found under the ocean, or that created craters in the ocean itself. Are those existent?

Clive Oppenheimer: Yes, almost certainly. If you think about just the probability of where a stone is going to land, most of them are falling in the oceans. And so for sure there will be the down there, but you’ve also got to think of the size of a stone that is going to leave a crater on the ocean floor if it’s traveling through two miles of ocean.

Werner Herzog: You can say that you wouldn’t see anything, but of course in the Yucatan Peninsula you have a crater that’s 200 kilometers in diameter. Part of it is in the ocean, which I think didn’t exist like that before, 65 million years ago.

Clive Oppenheimer: Interestingly, the micrometeorites – this cosmic dust that Jon Larsen looks for on roofs of sports arenas and elsewhere – this was first discovered in the late 19th century during what’s regarded as the first oceanographic research cruise. They dredged up sediments from the deep Pacific, and they found these little spherical particles which they realize were extraterrestrial. They’re there because they’re in areas of very, very low sedimentation from the continents that are a long way from where erosion is washing land sediments to the seabed. So they concentrated there.

They’re found as well in the icing remote parts of Antarctica. The remarkable thing that Jon Larsen did was he said, “Well, this dust must be everywhere. It must also be in car parks in New York City and on the roofs of shopping malls. I’m going to have to sift through an awful lot of bird excrement, but I’ll find it.” He spent five years doing that till he found his first particle but now he’s got thousands of them and found out how to discriminate between them. It’s extraordinary, it’s a whole new branch of science.

Did you look into anything interesting that didn’t make it into the film?

Werner Herzog: We have something that made it halfway into the film, and that’s a black stone in Mecca, the holiest site of the Muslim world. Neither Clive nor I are Muslims – we’re not allowed to set foot into the city of Mecca. Of course we respect this, and we tried to organize with this young, very gifted Saudi filmmaker who had filmed before in Mecca. We gave him very precise instructions, there’s a wonderful shot in the film, but we have it only for three seconds. We needed it for 30 seconds but he never got the full permits to do it and we were already into editing. So, if we had to rely on cell phone footage, which was shot by one of the pilgrims.

Clive Oppenheimer: There’s nothing in the way of something being left out of the film but there are other topics (I would have liked to cover). There’s the whole year of asteroid mining; of going out there and coming back with rare earth elements and precious metals. And there are outfits that are seriously looking into the logistics of that. There’s a Japanese company that does – let’s say you know you really want a fancy wedding, well why not have a meteor shower for the reception? So they are dropping little bits of dust from satellites to make your very own meteor shower.

Werner Herzog: Sand falling to create a meteor shower for the bride [laughter].

Clive Oppenheimer: I’d have loved it if we could have done that.

Werner Herzog: The Japanese have the most wonderful, spectacular idea when it comes to that.

Clive Oppenheimer: Great for the premiere of the movie.

What is your dynamic like when you enter into these projects? Do you approach it as Clive having a certain expertise and that Werner is kind of acting in our place as the novice – to ask the questions the audience may have?

Clive Oppenheimer: We work very closely and we’re in frequent contact throughout the pre-production, as we’re thinking about locations and crew, and during the editing. But we bring different skills to it and I think for me it’s neither a disadvantage or an advantage that I don’t have a training in fine arts or in filmmaking. So I can say, or suggest possibly outrageous ideas, and generally with Werner they don’t meet with negative reactions. Werner also has a very different approach.

Werner Herzog: The beauty of life is that I never had any training in fine arts and filmmaking either. I never went to film school.

That may be true, but so many people revere your films. And even though you are still making narrative films, a lot of people now know you for these documentaries.

Werner Herzog: It’s an abomination because much of my documentary filmmaking is feature films in disguise. And what will remain of what I have done will be two things. The book that I have written–the prose texts is one thing. Like, Conquest of the Useless or, Of Walking in Ice. Then there are the feature films; Aguirre: The Wrath of God, The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, or Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans…anyway.

There are still throngs of younger audiences now who just know your voice from various cartoons you’ve lent it to (American Dad, Rick and Morty), and of course because of things like The Mandalorian. It’s almost like you’re creating another version of yourself.

Werner Herzog: No, it’s not another version of myself, It’s just me doing professional work. I’m a professional man and I do what I’m good at. I would never be in a film as an actor in a romantic comedy. See, I gotta play the badass.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Clive Oppenheimer: I’ve lost sleep, you know, ever since I saw him in Jack Reacher. That was terrifying.

Fireball: Visitors from Darker Worlds premieres on Apple TV+ on Friday. Nov. 13.

The post Werner Herzog On Unlocking the Secrets of the Universe…from Earth appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/36ASbJE

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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theonyxpath · 6 years

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Greetings, wayfarers!

Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961)

Matthew Dawkins reporting in. It’s been some time since my last confession. As many of you will be aware, I’ve been at work developing Onyx Path’s new game, They Came From Beneath the Sea!, an RPG of 1950s b-movie science fiction, horror, and japes. They Came From is intended to be a game you can play to meet any mood or tone, using the framework of one of those archetypal sci-fi classics we know and love. The budget may be low, the costumes may be ridiculously rubbery, and the acting may be poor. But! That’s not too different from most roleplaying experiences, so we should be fine.

My aim with this game is to present a world where within the space of months, creatures from the depths emerge and start threatening our way of life. To the player or Director in need of an analogy, look no further than the reason many such invasion movies came out in the decade they did: the threat of nuclear war was ever present. The panic our heroes feel in these games is the panic they feel when confronted with the Red Scare, the House Unamerican Committee, enforced patriotism, and the real belief it could all end in an instant if someone pushes the big red button. The difference is that the threats are bipedal crabs, brain eater eels consuming our identities, peer pressure forcing every common Joe and Jane to take up arms, and the danger of something more dangerous than a single shuffling aquaterpillar creeping its way up the shore. There’s humor found in a game like this, and we certainly aim for tongue to be in cheek at parts. There’s also a feeling of humanity’s desperation. The writers have successfully put that mood into words in the drafts I’m redlining.

You will receive more information about this game as time goes on, but for now, I present you with an extract from Chapter One (written by Jacqueline Bryk and Larry Blamire, though this section is specifically Larry’s – so blame him for the clowns).

***

Keep Watching The Waves

Deep sea exploration is nothing new. It’s been going on since 1521 when Ferdie Magellan dropped a line 2,400 feet and didn’t find the bottom. It didn’t get into full swing until the 1870s with the HMS Challenger’s systematic approach to undersea exploration — leading to the birth of oceanography — with lines, dredges and trawls to make measurements and take samples. In the 1930s, Otis Barton’s bathysphere broke ground, or water, and Barton himself recently set a record with his 4,500 foot / 1,372 meter dive in his benthoscope.

Now there have been some pretty strange specimens retrieved from extreme depths, some that could be called nightmare-inducing fish, things glowing in a world of otherwise absolute darkness. But they are relegated and accustomed to those conditions, that enormous pressure and lack of light. They would not do well on the surface, if they could even get to it. And while it’s true that much of the ocean floor remains unexplored, it seems hard to imagine anything vaguely sinister, anything with an agenda, and certainly nothing to suggest advanced intellect.

And so indeed it is something of a shock that the actual alien invasion of Earth comes, not from above, but from below. The monsters are in our very own backyard, our giant swimming pool, where so many go to relax, that “next to final frontier,” the place we smugly thought we knew and rather complacently take for granted, where most of our water is.

They Come From the Sea.

So the question immediately comes to mind: Why? And why now? What could they possibly want with us? What could they want on land?

Quite a bit, actually. More on that later. First, let’s look at who, or what, they are, and how we first become aware.

Like many past civilizations before us, the first to become aware of the danger are pets and circus clowns. The latter might sound facetious, but when circus-goers begin to react listlessly and morosely to their zany antics, it’s the clowns’ heightened sensitivity (possibly brought on by years of pies in the face) that first react to the subtle changes in humanity. For the beginnings of this alien intrusion are not in the form of a sudden overnight onslaught of Things Marching From the Sea. Indeed, this invasion is insidious, not only in its sheer scope and variety of outrageous and horrific lifeforms, but also its clandestine and sinister infiltration into our daily lives.

Keep Watching Your Backs

The sandpits are singing.

You know, the ones out back, just past the yard, beyond the crooked tree on the little knoll. Like the little boy in Invaders From Mars we begin to discover that Mom and Dad are not Mom and Dad anymore. One by one, friends and family are lured out back, to be sucked into that sandpit.

Yes, the first wave of alien attack is subversive: infiltration. The enemy mixing among us. This comes in two basic forms:

Destruction and replacement

Takeover and possession

Each results in false humans walking and interacting with us. For the most part it’s systematic and effective, which is why we should be worried. But there are signs. There are things to look for, and that gives humankind some hope to go with our grim determination, science and flailing fists.

For instance, the Crab People, even posing as humans, are compelled to walk sideways. They can’t help it. Evolution-wise, they’re part people — and there’s quite a resemblance — but that sideways thing is just really hard to shake. Plus, it’s difficult to hold the bony face plates under their skin to retain a certain likeness (of the person they’ve replaced) for longer than several hours or so before needing a breather, at which point their wide hideous mandibles open up the entire face and suddenly it’s not Uncle Walt anymore.

Now, the disgusting Brain Eater Eel is easily squished in its natural form. Not so much in a human host. So these things are dangerous. What we need to be on the lookout for, then, is their insatiable appetite and a rather geekish hunger for human cinema. These can sometimes give them away. Of course, this does little to lessen the terror of knowing these creepy things could be beside us in line at the supermarket or Marx Brothers festival.

The third of our notable Identity Crisis Nightmares is perhaps the strangest. The Thaumocs are a form of super-intelligent octopi that are both clever and technologically advanced. How does a brainy cephalopod pass as human? With great difficulty, as the joke goes.

Actually, they ride around in a masterfully designed people suit; a fleshy fluid-filled frame fine enough to fool folks. One shortcoming is the Thaumoc’s lack of speech, causing them to depend on a contrivance that spews small talk, which is what they hear when they monitor and record our human blather. If you meet someone even more boring than usual, with limited direct interaction, there’s a good chance it’s one of them.

Knowing these imperfections should not lead us to a sense of overconfidence, by any means. It is merely meant to balance what has become the highest level of paranoia to ever infect civilized society, even more than the spread of communism. They are survival tips as well as morale booster in the face of things that sometimes quite literally make our skin crawl. The only enemy more dangerous than the one you don’t know is the one you know.

Keep watching your backs…

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#Onyx Path Publishing

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