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undertow-story · 8 months

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CHAPTER 003:

PART-TIME GOD

I remember Cy, that short little bartender in The Hovel, once telling me before about how oftentimes people ask themselves a lot of questions- it was very normal actually. I’d been talking to myself out loud at that point in time because I thought this was normal as well. They made me aware that in fact- it’s apparently not, but its a habit that I’ve found very hard to break.

They gave me a lot of examples of normal questions, like: ‘How long have I been here now? When will this be over with already? Why is x person so y?’ Etc.

Not often do I have to ask myself those questions, but even less often do I need to ask myself: ‘How far exactly did I fall?’ or ‘I think my arm is broken, but I’m not entirely sure- what is a broken arm like?’.

I found myself asking a very stupid question out loud, between habit and bewilderment of:

“How the fuck did I survive?”

Sachiel grunted loudly as he very slowly rose from his ‘resting’ place. He was around the outskirts of The Undertow, further from his general hangout than usual. He was lying in a pile of trash and discarded furniture that had been carelessly dumped down an alleyway instead of properly disposed of. The chair leg stabbing into his hip was less than ideal in comfort.

I’m alive... That doesn’t make sense. None of that entire interaction made sense.

His arm was in serious pain, something more than he’d felt so far in his time of being here. He’d been shot, bitten, scratched and gnarled up... but this time around he figured something had to be broken, as the searing pain was so unfamiliar to him.

He could feel something else on his leg as well... He looked down and grimaced as he saw a rat, chewing on his flesh from a hole shredded in his dirty, black denim jeans.

He flicked the sharp, pointed end of his tail directly through it, and brought it closer to his face. He turned it carefully, left to right, and gently sniffed it- thoroughly inspecting its carcass.

It didn’t appear to be one of those demons, or diseased at least... so, naturally, he ate it in a not particularly clean or proper fashion.

He scowled to himself after doing so.

Okay. I at least have consumed something.... Now.....Can I move?

He shifted, feeling a lot of stress on his body, but he forced himself to his feet as bits of rubble and trash fell around him. He inched along the wall carefully testing the strength of his legs and feet before deciding he was at least strong enough to walk. His long tail dragged against the ground as he moved, the blackened bone at the end making a scraping sound against the uneven pavement.

He peered from out of the alley.

He wasn’t in the usual sector he resided in at all. He managed to get thrown into Theta, which was roughly two full sectors north of his hang outs.

The fuck kind of elevator did I go through?

Thankfully it wasn’t the worst transport to get through under normal circumstances- but the problem was that he was thrown close to the threshold where the infested side was and he was tired and weak.

How only a rat had managed to find him so far was surprising in itself. Looking up to see far above were the many legs and wings of creatures scurrying back and forth looking about like vultures.

Vile things.

Perhaps they were simply too small to consider him worth taking… or perhaps there was just enough lights around to deter them.

He felt at his pocket and noticed his gun was missing. There was no way in hell he would be leaving without that, not in this side of town. He made note of where he fell, trying to think of how far it may have gone. The alley was dark, but not horrible to see something shiny in at least. He made note of the staircase to his right and carefully started up it, trying to not overexert himself.

He sat himself down on the rooftop to give his legs a break after the climb. Mostly garbage down below, it was no wonder nothing saw him yet. The entire place was practically a dumping ground for random assortments of trash and furniture. Just about everywhere was like that in this entire area, oddly. He didn’t frequent this sector, it was a bit out of the way since the subway tram was usually broken down and in need of repair.

Looking around, however… it seemed more desolate than he remembered. Sure it was run down, and it wasn’t completely cased in darkness and abandoned like Sector Iota… but the amount of house lights off was almost concerning to him. He looked up from where he fell, noticing an oddly big vortex, dark and heavy with bolts of lightning bursting from within every second.

In that same moment, it vanished, something large falling from the sky from where it had once been.

He frowned and started to look around slightly more pressed.

He didn’t think the gun could have gone far from him, but at the same time he could have been looted while he was asleep- his thought was interrupted as he heard a loud screech come from above, and a vaguely shaped dark shadow descended upon him, latching onto his already injured arm.

He snarled and readied his claws to dig into it- only to find himself getting overwhelmed and swarmed by at least three others. His body was still burning and he was struggling to continue standing as he heard the sound of a gunshot whip past his ear, leaving a ringing sensation.

One of the creatures fell to the ground, spasming before falling silent. Sachiel attempted to turn his head down but was blindsided by another winged creature his face, biting his nose. More gunshots rang off, just enough to free his functioning arm as he dug his claws into the one on his face, shredding it, and his own skin in the process.

His frustration was clearly high and was still struggling to hear out of his one ear. He could, however hear a little call of a faint voice from below.

“Fangs, my boy!!”

...The bartender?

Sachiel stumbled, trying to get his footing back and ended up slipping and falling into a patch of trash bags and broken down sofa cushions. He groaned in pain, Cy rushing over to him and stopping just before the bags.

"Goodness. You look absolutely terrible." Cy's eyebrows furrowed behind the large sunglasses on their face.

"... Thanks." Sachiel sighed, giving up on moving.

"I'm glad I finally found you at least... I've been searching about for over a week for you." Cy reached out to Sachi, taking his hand.

"... A week? I wasn't out for a few hours?"

"Goodness no. I saw something falling as I was closing up shop after you took on that hit and realized it was you when I peered through my little pocket binoculars."

Sachiel shifted, getting to his feet once more, shakily.

"I'll ask about what happened later... Come back with me to the bar, I've got your gun, don't worry. I actually managed to find that before I even stumbled upon you! Only reason I think I managed to get here in time actually, its a good thing my ol' shooting arm still works now and then." Cy brushed their dapper pants off as they lead the way for Sachi to follow. "Well, with my own gun anyway, yours is awfully heavy to hold and I couldn't figure out how to reload it."

He was very tired. More than he'd ever been. He didn't usually feel that kind of exhaustion and it did happen on occasion, such as times where he chose to not sleep for days on end. He looked at his left arm, which hung beside him, unmoving and limp. He could hardly feel the arm itself- only the searing burn when he moved.

Sachi gave a quiet 'Hrmph' before following Cy, looking back up from where he fell.

He definitely had questions.

The bar was quiet, something Sachiel hadn't at all seen since the first time he had ever entered it.

Cy had flicked on the lights upon entry, but not the vibrant, usual lighting. It was warmer, moodier, and had no neon tones to it.

The sign on the door was still set to closed, sitting slightly ajar. It was almost nicer to be in when it was empty like this.

Sachi huffed and sat himself in one of the booths, wincing as he repositioned his arm manually. Cy was over at the counter, pouring a glass of whiskey.

Sachiel sat quietly to himself in the meantime as Cy was rummaging behind the counter. He was very tired, more than upset. Actually he wasn't too unhappy in the slightest- minus the fact he didn't get paid for his time. That, however was pissing him off.

Sachiel was mostly lost in his own mind and intrigued by the events that took place. It was a lot to take in all at once.

Cy returned to Sachi with some whiskey, and a little tray with some assorted meats on it, along with some food and drink for themself as well. They sat down in the seat across from him, nudging the plate closer to Sachi.

"...Thanks." Sachiel was a bit confused at the courtesy.

"It's on the house, I don't expect money from you, Fangs." Cy waved their hand. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about your arm, however. I'm no doctor, and nor do I know of any."

Sachiel shrugged weakily with his good arm. "... I'm not concerned about it, actually."

"Strange answer given it looks very broken! I'll inquire more about your feelings on that later, but first I must know what happened up there. How did you manage to fall from the upper levels?" Cy was oddly interested, a grin peering up on their face from over their very high sitting shirt collar.

"..." Sachiel sipped the drink. He wasn't so sure of Cy's intent, but he also had no one else to talk to about this... and they could provide some insight on what he found.

"Though, you don't have to go into it if you don't want to." They had an apologetic look on their face, realizing Sachi had kept quiet.

"I'm not used to talking about things to someone. I will go into it because I have questions you might be able to answer. You come off as shady sometimes." Sachi was perhaps, a bit too blunt.

Cy let out a loud and hearty laugh at the comment. "Oh thank goodness, I worry about seeming too nice- it's not a good thing to seem too nice around these parts after all. That's how you get used."

Sachi continued.

"I talked to the client. I found another like me... but... he wasn't exactly like me. Almost like a parody of myself."

"Another? Parody how, though? That's an odd descriptor." Cy swirled their drink.

"He looked more... monstruous. His body looked warped, like he'd been rung through one of those little machines that makes pasta." Sachi started to eat, knowing that Cy often talked a lot between his comments. It was a common thing, they'd talk even when he didn't have anything to say that day, worked out for him to sip his drink in between.

"Peculiar... So the job was the casino head, yes? I think I may know the dogs you talk of-"

Sachi interrupted immediately. "How did you know there was two?"

He had made no mention of the brother, which meant that he was right in his hunch that Cy knew far more than they ever let on. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. They seemed to jump a little at the sudden accusatory sentence as well.

"Ah! Well you're on the same page as me then as we are talking about the same dogs. Or... are they hellhounds? Anthropomorphic dog genuses isn't my specialty you see..." Cy adjusted their sunglasses. "See, I was actually looking into those two because believe it or not, horrible monstrosities were not always a problem here. Though I'm sure you wouldn't know that since no one talks about it. They mostly complain about the ones upstairs."

Sachi took off his jacket as best he could, leaving the poor, garbage smelling leather to rest on the seat next to him.

"No, no I did not know about this." He grunted.

"People don't seem to 'remember' I find. Those two appeared down here, first, actually. They were very... threatening to see. After all there wasn't many talking animals around here before their arrival. There's been plenty more since, I actually originally had strong thoughts they might be extraterrestrials! However, there's no evidence of a spacecraft and it seemed odd they spoke common, so I tossed that theory out the window."

Cy ran a hand through their messy blonde hair, in thought.

"I've been trying to get more information on those two because a friend and I have reason to believe they might be the reason you, and those things are here, actually."

Sachi tilted his head.

"...How do you figure? That's a bold claim."

"Well until those two arrived, nothing happened here. It was just a shitty place to live. Now it's a shitty place to live and a very dangerous one. I had a hunch because when they first arrived and spoke to me I found their weapons very strange." Cy took a sip of their drink, Sachi cutting in before they could start another sentence.

"I don't recall seeing a weapon from them, actually the boss... uh.. what was his name, Esther or something... he said that those two prefer brute force, and can't shoot a gun for shit." Sachi's brow furrowed, his stomach finally getting the best of him as he started to shovel food down his throat.

"Ohou! It gets stranger, not from my personal recollection- they both had interesting looking guns. Guns with no entry point to place bullets into, and yet they fired just well, actually." Cy gave a defeated sigh. "Too well, actually, they're the ones who got bulletholes in my wall at the back a couple years later. Got into a fight with a local, I had to deal with the undertaker upon his arrival, it was far too much of a hassle for my taste."

"So they lie about themselves."

"Seems to be the case." Cy sipped their drink again, tapping the table with a finger.

The two shared a silence for a moment, before Cy perked up again.

"Oh, so sorry I interrupted you and got you off track. You said you saw the dogs like you, what next?"

"During my debreifing away from the boss, Emerson, the one I spoke with... had a very strange conversation with me, implying he knows a lot about me. I don't like that. They may be spying on me..." He grunted. "After that the hit went to hell, the other brother caught me by surprise. Leapt out and interrupted me, said I was an asset to their plans, and that it was a 'good show' for their boss."

"...Hm."

"I tried to shoot Jameson, the other one... my shots all missed, except for one."

"Well that's something at least!" Cy smiled.

"I shot him in the head and it healed over." Sachiel bluntly put it, his expression unwaivering.

Cy immediately frowned.

"I was worried that was the case... I saw it too. I don't understand how that's even possible." They sighed again. It almost seemed like they wanted to hear Sachi's story to confirm their own past witnessing of events. "I thought I was just mad."

"After which I was thrown off the building and apparently unconscious for the next week according to your account." Sachi downed the last of his whiskey, shaking his head. "Here I still am. Alive. After a 900 foot fall."

"I do believe you may be the same species as them, but I'm not sure about the differences as I know nothing about your kind. You're new to us. Same with the other talking animals." Cy assured him, they did seem certain about some aspects of this. "I have a feeling you also have those healing powers but I haven't the slightest how it works."

"Mine has to be over time, I think." He at least knew this much.

"You're aware of it?"

"No, but yes. I had a hunch something was odd, my bullet wounds would heal themselves over a week or two, the bullets just pop out... no need for removal- I wasn't even aware you were supposed to take them out first... Most scars and wounds fade fairly quick... I'm wondering if this means my arm will as well." He gently placed a hand on it, gritting his teeth.

"Well! I say we should find out- listen Fangs, it seems you and I are on the same page and want to know more about these two hounds. I'm prepared to make you an offer." Cy grinned that classic little smile they usually give patrons from over the counter. "I have a spare open apartment upstairs. No one can afford the rent so it's been empty for a while... I give you board, and you let me be your 'manager'. How's that?"

Sachi was a bit taken aback. He figured they did know about him wanting a place indoors given he was complaining about it before finally taking that job... But he wasn't entirely sold.

"Manager... How?" He squinted.

"Manager as in I'll find and line up hits for you, trying to get us jobs that pay well, as well as hopefully get us another chance to see the upstairs again so we can do more digging on these two." Cy placed their hands together. "I have a lot of friends, so I usually get the down low first, I just can't hunt you see? I will say, we have to get your reputation up first so others up there will trust you. Especially since your newest hit has been marked as a failure."

"Don't remind me." He grunted once more.

"But what do you say, Fangs?" They held out a small hand to him, reaching decently far over the table. "Partners?"

Sachiel hesitated at first, but he quickly jutted a hand out to shake on it. There was no way he was going to bathe in a pond again, and he needed somewhere more safe to hide away while his arm healed itself.

"Done." He leaned back again, wincing.

"Then it's settled! I'll give you time to get used to your new space, get you your keys, and a few starting essentials. No rent, you just have to get your own food is all, and please don't make too much of a mess!" Cy jumped up, gathering their dishes to put away.

"...I'm sure I can manage that."

"Wonderful! This is going to be a lovely start to a great relationship I can tell, especially with how hard working you are- oh though I don't recommend you take on any hits until we see how that arm of yours does. I'm going to inspect it each day to see if anything changes, so please make sure to come down at least one or twice in the evening a day so I can have a look-"

"I thought you said you weren't a doctor?" Sachi interrupted, as Cy called back to him.

"I'm not! However I'm starting to think I should be!"

Sachi was not confident in that answer. He wasn't sure what he managed to get himself into, but there was a high chance that it wasn't good... However, he did at least get a roof over his head. So that much was nice.

I suppose now I can say I have a job. I guess. It's the same as my shit before, just under someone else's terms... whatever. As long as I'm not sleeping in a bin.

I still can't help but continue to come back to that scene... the things those two said. Least there's no need for a fear of heights given it's not a problem...

A whole city level, traveled so fast just from falling...

...and I didn't die. I don't believe I can't die. I'm certain I can, but this has opened a whole new world of possibilities.

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#very excited about this one because its just kinda fun tbh

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undertow-story · 8 months

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ANNOUNCEMENT:

I'm going to use posts like this for general updates on the goings on about in the blog.

First is that there is a new artwork update to the 'Cast' page.

Second is that all story pages should now be linked together via the "previous|next" indicators, please give tumblr some time to update this on the webpage itself. In-Dash is currently updated however the on webpage is still not updated at this time.

Third is that there is plans for a general map of the city to be put in place to better show sectors, however it is still in progress.

Thanks for reading!

-Zauk

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undertow-story · 8 months

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Next update coming October 8th! This is my favorite month so before chapters slow to a screeching halt for 2-3 months at a time you all get a treat of one every week for the month of october!

So keep an eye out Oct 8th, 9am MDT!

#i find it easier to post in bursts #then go into radio silence for a while #and come back with more

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undertow-story · 8 months

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CHAPTER 002:

A LONG FALL

Sachiel headed off to the other side, a near invisible door frame opening up and allowing access to the brightly lit elevator. He stepped inside quietly, blinking harshly as he attempted to adjust his eyes to the sudden increase in light.

Over an intercom he could hear the receptionist’s nasally voice, “Now don’t be touchin’ nothin’ darlin’ weapons are kept in the bag at all times and any attempts at violence will result in penalties to your record as well as death. Please follow your designated guide and don’t stray from his sight, or you will be shot- the usual protocols.”

Sachiel remained poker-faced as the door opened to a pair of men heavily armed, with a small guide in a fancy casino-esque uniform gesturing to him from the middle of the floor.

He raised a brow as he followed.

Peculiar.

These humans have such odd mannerisms I swear... or maybe that’s just me being the odd one out.

The entire building was clad in shining lights and glistening metals, and the carpets at his feet had intricate rugs running all down the close and narrow corridors. The small guide lead him directly to the end of the corridor and into a room on the right. Inside was a man in business attire... and to his right a dog-like man just like Sachiel.

Sachiel couldn’t help but stare in raw confusion before returning his gaze to his client.

“Ah, yes... Sachiel. I’ve seen your record... very surprised you were willing to take on this hit given you've never take on a job of this type until now.”

“...I decided to do something different.” He spoke in short sentences, clearly not wanting to screw this up, but also still very clearly distracted.

“Very good. Your track record is quite remarkable you know? A right 'killing machine' when it comes to monsters." The man set a cigar to his mouth. "I won’t lie it must seem odd that one would choose the animal hunter to deal with a human case. Especially with the amount of applicants we saw.”

The slender, wide-eyed hound like Sachiel smirked, while lighting his boss’s cigar- clearly making direct, unsettling eye-contact with him.

“I will admit I am curious, but I am here for a job, not talk.” Sachiel bluntly stated, getting tired of his client's incessant chattering.

“To the point! I like it.” The boss laughed. “Alright here’s the down-low. I run this casino as a tight, well oiled machine. I’ve recently discovered one of my ‘associates’ has been dealing under the table on me- and rats like him don’t learn their place. I need you to take out an assassination on him.”

He slides Sachiel a file.

“He goes by Slick, it's a nickname.” He gestured to the hound to his right, “My bodyguard here, Emerson; and his brother, Jameson- noticed something was odd about Slick’s behaviour lately and led his brother to figure it out from the inside.”

The yellow eyes of Emerson pierced Sachiel’s with a heavy intimidation, the silence from him was unnerving given his gaze.

“Jameson found out about the embezzlements, and that Slick’s going to be meeting with a client tonight... rooftop of a rival casino three blocks down near the edge of the city in order to take loads of MY hard earned cash and exchange it for God’s know what."

He was clearly riled up.

Sachiel really didn't understand why this job was of such high importance... Especially with a price tag like that. Something was wrong.

"Your job is to take him out. He should be fairly unguarded as to not draw attention... as well- they won’t be expecting an attack from above, now will they? You are to drop down and clean up the place. No sidetracks, no joyrides anywhere else. You’re to wait on the rooftop, hidden until sundown. Got it?”

Sachiel took the file, resting it under his arm and nods.

“Good. Now my guard here will lead you to the rooftop. Jameson is next for a shift change by my side. I’ll see you in position from the window on the other side of the building so don’t try any funny stuff.”

Sachiel nods once more, speaking up only once. “I assume the reason you don’t let your guards do the job is because this guy poses a threat to your well being?”

“Nah- These guys are just bad with guns, they’re more... into brute force. Brute force ain’t gonna guarantee me a man dead. Several bullets to the head will. Get me?”

“...I see.” Sachiel stared once more at the slender, thin horned dog man before being led out the door by him.

Something wasn’t sitting right with him... but he was unsure what.

Sachiel followed along quietly, staring at his "guide". Emerson was so... thin. Not in a very normal manner either, Sachiel was almost certain this man was damn near skin and bones. He looked... Wrong.

He made note of the fact that this guy stood at least a foot taller than him. Those long thin horns that curved at the top looked like they'd snap with any type of force, and his... face. His face looked almost distorted. It was too long. His snout was not pointed up, but down, and his fur was a pristine, sickly white, with grey tones to it.

It was almost like he was barely held together.

Sachiel was going to speak, but it seemed Emerson was the one who wanted to talk first.

"So, Sachiel. I'm certain you have questions given that bewildered look you'd given me in the office." It almost sounded like a hiss rather than a blunt statement.

"...A few. You are the only other I've seen that-" Sachiel was cut off as fast as his sentence started.

"Looks like you. Correct." a long, unsettling grin came upon his face, his eyes staring into nothing. "I'm afraid that is something for another day, you see. You and I will get a chance to have this conversation again I do promise you that... No, I guarantee it. However this time has to be spent ensuring you do your job correctly."

"I don't understand why this job has such a high stake for such a simple target." Sachiel looked annoyed now.

"Oh come now." Emerson turned, his face directly in Sachiel's. "Isn't it obvious? It's because our boss doesn't understand the guns he has at arms, Sachiel. He doesn't know anything. He only knows what we make clear to his feeble little human mind. After all, he thinks this is huge and worth a large sum because you are here, after all."

Sachiel squinted, ears back.

"What does that mean?"

"Sachiel, your deeds don't go unnoticed. You are like a celebrity up here after all. Why, you're the hero of the Undertow, don't you know?" Emerson sneered, closer to him.

"I'm no fucking hero." Sachiel scoffed, backing off from Emerson's face.

"Well you are to some. Therefore to attract the big hero, you need a big sum. We know a lot about you after all. Now we really should focus and get back to work." Emerson turned, taking him to the elevator.

Sachiel did not like this at all. There was something wrong, both with this dog and with the situation as a whole.

Sachiel sat quietly on the rooftop.

He polished his pistol, staring at it very hard. It was a triple barrelled pistol... but yet, since waking with it in his hands he did not understand how it worked. He generally found he could only fire one bullet from it, and only if he focused and willed the shot into existence. There was no entry for him to insert more bullets into the chamber and activate the other two barrels. The main chamber just had a regular 6-shot revolver's look to it..... yet the dust and scrap at the end of the gun’s barrels clearly indicated that it could fire three shots at once.

He sighed.

What am I even doing. I hold a weapon I barely know how to use, and here I am taking on an assassination mission that very Clearly is overpriced for what the crime is... Something isn’t right. I don’t get it.

He frowned hard.

There is no reason why I should be here...this job could be taken on by anyone. Literally anyone. It’s just a human. Humans die when they’re shot in the head don’t they? I always see them fall after a head shot. Heads and hearts, that’s what one of my hirees told me before. No matter the species just aim for the head or heart and it should die.

...

Where are human’s hearts located anyway?

More importantly, what the fucking hell was that conversation with that... guy? What did he mean they knew of the things he did, were they spying on him or something?

The sun started to descend over the horizon. Looking down he could see a man, checking his watch on the next roof over, coming into view. He had the slicked back hair and a fancy tuxedo on, holding a breifcase.

Must be him.

Sachiel got himself into position, and then bolted. His legs felt like they were on fire as he leapt from the rooftop, dropping to the one below with a loud THUD.

The man whipped around and immediately began shooting, Sachiel ducking for cover as a bullet ripped through his arm. He snarled, whipping his pistol out and taking a blind shot in an attempt to force Slick into a reload. Instead he found that the man was attempting to sneak around the corner, only noticing his footsteps because of his acute sense of hearing.

Sachiel jumped around the corner as more bullets went flying, making note of the count... But suddenly being distracted by a foot flying at his face from the other side of his head. The kick was with a LOT of force, and cleanly knocked out a tooth from Sachiel’s jaw, forcing him backwards.

Looking up he fired his gun, only to find the shot missing, and in front of him was another hound, but in a different set of attire from the one he met earlier, and with far more creepy looking eyes.

This must be the brother?

“The hell you think you’re doin gettin' in the way of my kill.” It didn’t even sound like a question anymore, as Sachiel snarled, spitting out blood onto the ground.

“Sachiel, was it?” He smirked, rolling up a sleeve. “ Call me Jameson. Listen... my brother and I have been keeping a watch of you you know? We both know you’re a very efficient hunter. Which is why we needed to lure you up here so we could deal with you properly.”

“...I see.” Sachiel cocked his gun, firing, only to be baffled when Jameson shoved a fist into his gut at a speed he’d never even seen in a monster before.

What the hell..?

Sachiel staggered back, shooting again only to miss once more. Somehow, his shots weren’t hitting Jameson in the slightest.

The fucking hell is this thing, why can’t I hit him I have a clear shot every single time? Something isn’t right, nothing about this is right, I knew it was a set up but I thought I’d still have the upper hand? After all it was only a human...

“Sachiel, we need to keep those people down there feeling helpless, they can’t be feeling hope now you understand? You’ve been causing quite the stir in your slaying and we aren’t impressed. How else do you think we managed to keep people down there from trying to revolt?”Jameson smiled, a very unnerving grin.

“...How-”

“Enough talk, you’re an asset to all of our plans now and this a great show for the boss to witness, so you need to get going.” Jameson lifted up Sachiel by the jacket.

Sachiel grunted and shot Jameson point blank in the head, a deafening silence falling between them and Slick, who just stood there watching with an unbroken expression.

Heads and hearts.... That’s how you deal with all of your problems, they told me.

As it turns out...

Heads was a lie.

Jameson turned on his heel staggering forwards, swaying back and forth with a terribly excited expression- bringing Sachiel to the edge of the building. It stood far above The Undertow, a direct pit descending down into the abyss of his ‘home’ from the edge of the upper city.

What convenient placement for this fight.

“You really have to try harder than that to kill me. It's almost as if you know nothing about us? We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen.” He waved a hand over his wound, as it started to seal.

Sachiel was mortified.

It didn’t take long before he figured out what was going to happen. He felt the drop, as Jameson let go and he started to fall. He could see a little wave from the hellhound as the lights started to fade from sight.

Deeper, deeper, deeper.

Farther, farther, farther.

The lights from above were gone now, and as he fell, he couldn’t help but think to himself that something was still not right.

...Why throw me? Seems excessive.

How did he not die, either? Am... I... Can I do that?

What was that healing thing- wait. All those times I managed to take on hits people were so confused about; the ones who panicked at my wounds- Does this mean-

Unfortunately, that thought wasn't finished as Sachiel blacked out.

The ground always comes so fast, no matter the height you seem to fall.

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undertow-story · 8 months

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next update to be posted next week! the post is scheduled and ready to go. im sorry its not a comic, i just dont have the time to do full comics right now and you'd all be waiting for content for a Very long time if this was the case

#plus #theres the fact that ive been working on one comic technically for two years because i only worked on it in small bursts #im going to try and fix that #i promise #but for now i just cant #update will be oct 1st 9am mountain time

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undertow-story · 9 months

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brain mildly feral bc im still thinking about vik's gunblades and how i literally changed the way it functions so i had an excuse for a redesign later down the road but also so i could have an excuse for a more realistically functioning gun in the blade

so vik's first gunblade is this one which i still adore colour wise and i might end up tweaking his new one a bit in design to match this one more

but this one is his Hemi-Cuda. modeled off the FF8 style gunblades they have no obvious exit point for bullets due to magic being the primary factor in its function which is fine and good bc that's what vik's world was like before he got pulled into the undertow with sachiel

the blade had a close serrated point that was too close to the barrel to really function particularly well, and was very bulky in width making it heavy and harder to swing.

upon entry to the Undertow his GUN aspect stopped working on his blade, hindering him and limiting him to only regular assault via stabbing slashing etc with the sword

down the road, sachiel actually helps rebuild the hemi from the ground up into a Levi-Cuda instead

the NEW model, named Levi-Cuda has a more accurately functioning barrel that negates the mandatory requirement of magic to function and now can fire both magic AND physical bullets, or a bullet imbued with the same power and energy

the chamber is now located atop the blade and built into it, the end of the blade curving downwards out of the way of the barrel's tip in order to more accurately shoot without the risk of a bullet running off the length of the blade along the way

the sword has a better functioning trigger that allows the user to pull on it and keep the held force to be used DURING a swing so its not limited to only shooting, or only swinging. the new design also has a fancy leviathan decal on it as well as a sleek new look with better grip

the blade itself still has serration at the bottom of it to either hook onto other blades and rip them away from the user, or to cause heavy amount of shred into whatever the blade hits, at the cost of it being very close range to vik. its more of a last ditch effort piece

#references #viktor rachman #his blade is cool okay

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undertow-story · 9 months

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CHAPTER 001

THE GAMBLE

I will admit... I am unconvinced that I am qualified for this job. These numbers are ludicrous even for the upstairs to offer, and whatever this guy has done has clearly gotten someone upstairs Very Angry....

Although, I would also love to stop sleeping in dumpsters and other bins that happen to be nearby... My fur deserves far better than washing up in whatever pond is in the outskirts of town.

Sachiel holds the paper in his grip, scratching at the long tanned fur on his chin.

Hm... and having a proper place to sit and clean my weapons would be ideal... No dirt getting right back into them after cleaning.... Ugh, whatever. I suppose I need to submit an ‘application’ first before I can muse the possibility.

He shuffled his way down the neon and gloomy street. Many shady persons lurked in the alleys and boulevards just beyond the main strip... But the market’s people were far from being the same. These people resided here happily (despite their living situation) and came and went as normal, some as always giving him odd glances. They were all just normal people, forced to live in a dangerous and unregulated place just because they weren’t ‘good’ enough. Sachiel didn’t understand it.

He looked up at the sign for his usual tavern. With a name like ‘The Hovel’ you wouldn’t expect it to be a very good place to dine or frequent. Surprisingly, it was actually quite well kept. Actually, it was the best kept bar in the entire Undertow if you were to ask Sachiel.

They also carried his favorite whiskey.

He slumped in through the door.

The very short, sunglasses bearing barkeep greeted him with the usual, “Hey there Fangs, what’ll it be?”.

Sachiel tossed his remaining coin at them, telling them to get him “The Usual, food included this time... with a request.”

“Request, eh? That’s unlike you bud, what’d’ya need?” They grinned, taking the coin and popping it into a lockbox below.

“Paper... Mhh, specifically one of those applications those thronies need for their hits.” He sat down at the counter, actively avoiding looking around at the other patrons whom he was aware had already started their odd glances.

The bartender gave him a chuckle and slid him a glass of his usual whiskey, an old one, a strong one, something with a hint of orange and smoke. They gave their coworker the food order, while rummaging below. “Oh-hoh, so you saw the notice. I’m surprised at you, Fangs, you don’t usually work for the Upstairs... what’s with the change of heart?”

Sachiel took the paper and started to fill in his information, name, experience, any previous hit with their invoice numbers... listed weapons? He huffed, struggling to talk and fill it in at the same time... His penmanship and focus were lacking.

“Mh, yeah... Look, Cy... I don’t like hunting you folk. Humans that is. I also however don’t like sleeping in empty dumpsters either. A hit like this could secure me a place to live in, finally... as well as replace my broken weapons.”

Cy smiled, it was always nice when Sachiel did refer to them by name and not just reply to what felt like no-one.

“Yeah we all dream of that one huh? I can’t blame you for wanting a place of your own. You've only been here a year and a bit now and still tend to be kicked out of bins. Not exactly the most ideal setup.”

“You’re telling me.” He scribbled, pulling out a set of crumpled and sad papers from his satchel. “I just hope I can A) get the job, and B) pull it off.”

“Ey, don’t worry about it Fangs, you’re a talented dude. Still glad I hired you before to take care of that ‘rat’ problem I had. Who’da thought all you’d need to clear the riff raff was just some cheap intimidation... Though I am glad you keep comin back here, does my business good to see your patronage, buddy.”

Sachiel sipped at his drink. “Do what I can to not be a nuisance.”

He finished up with his paperwork, stuffing his face with as much of the calamari he ordered as he could, then left as he usually did- silently and without much more to add to the room.

The application process was fairly simple. The Hunts were generally regulated by the people above, however anything requested from a persons of Undertow were marked with their own symbols next to the request file. All Hunters needed to be documented- and required invoice receipts in order to take on hits from wealthier individuals. As well, they were judged and graded on their hits based off their performance and how much damage they caused to surrounding areas, being docked accordingly.

Application desks were always found at a "Spire". Around the city were 8 Grand Spires. These spires connected the undertow to the guys up above ground. There was one in the middle, Alpha, then 7 around the outer areas of the other sectors. They basically were just support beams to hold the upper city off the ground and into the air.

Spire Gamma was the one closest to the place Sachiel generally lingered. This spire was also one of the most beaten down because it, and Theta, were near what was described as a ‘hot spot’, or an area where there was frequent 'entity' attacks.

Sachiel was wasting no time... He wanted this done and over with.

Dropping his application off and then sitting on a bench nearby, he refused to move along with the others who had also applied. It was easier than having the huntsmen workers come and find you... and he wanted to know sooner than later.

It didn’t take long, hits like this usually had a prompt response within 4 hours of the posting. If you missed it then it sucks to be you. A worker called over the loudspeaker, requesting Sachiel to the desk.

Not bad.

“Awrite Mistah Sachiel, lemme see ya ID.” The front desk lady held out a hand, she seemed quite old to be doing a job like this still.

... Mistah? Sachiel is fine... and I thought it was pronounced 'Mister'.

Sachiel handed over his ID. Thankfully these people didn’t care where it came from, just as long as theres a photo of you and a name that matched their signup records.

“Ohkay, Mistah Aethurt will see ya in his office, sweetie, head to the back I’ll open the elevator.” She boredly gestured to the other side of the spire.

...His office? Does that mean..?

Sachiel looked up, his ear once again turning backwards in concern.

I guess I get to know a little more about the upstairs.

Previous | Next

#look you actually get more than the prologue for the first time ever #wrow #002 is in the works again though bc i hate the flow so its getting redone.... but otherwise #yeah expect to actually see things.

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undertow-story · 9 months

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Hello! Welcome to this little sideblog.

The main focus here is to tell the story of Sachiel, a 'hellhound' suffering from memory loss that was dumped into a decrepit city.

His only goal is to find out what he is, not so much who he was before- solely due to the fact that he has found he is the only one of his kind in the entire city, to his knowledge.

Sachiel is a bit emotionally stunted, struggling to share his emotions with others and keeping them at a distance. This is also a story of creating bonds despite how terrible everything is around you, and how people find a way to make the best of even the worst.

I thank anyone for their interest and hope I can better share more about Sachi's world, his story, and the story of his friends as well.

#its about time really that i kick this off the ground a bit more #and at least post the written works i have completed at the very least #even if the comics are behind due to them taking a long time to complete.

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undertow-story · 9 months

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PROLOGUE

SACHIEL

I’ve lived in this place for as long as I can remember now. Which is not very long in the scheme of things. I’ve been in the Undertow for at least a year and a half if I had to guess, but time doesn’t feel like it flows quite right down here.

My name is Sachiel… At least, this is the name I’ve given myself based off the ID I found in my pocket upon waking. I seem to have lost all memory of my former self, and given the information I have, I’m not from around here. If that wasn’t obvious enough, then I would have figured it out given the fact I am the only one of my kind.

I wish I knew what my kind was, admittedly. Claws. Fangs… Ears, cropped like that of the common mongrel leashed around by the thugs and bandits in this city. Tail and horns- piercing thin slitted eyes just like the creatures I hunt.

I must be a monster.

Not that it bothers me. It’s the only fathomable explanation I can assume anyway. I however, seem to be the only one capable of speech out of the creatures I’ve encountered so far. In this place, it’s kill or be killed obviously, as we’re overrun with horrific entities I cannot explain.

This world is best emphasized by the word ‘survive’.

Rather, uh… This sector is described that way. Look, I only know so much, but also it makes sense to me to write down the things I do know so far- in case my brain gets smacked around enough again to lose all the knowledge I’ve got.

The area I reside is called The Undertow, or just Undertow depending on who you talk to. We are the filth. Cast out from the glistening lights of the city above- we’re forced to live in the waste and squalor of the wealthy fucks put themselves above us. Our home is lit by neon, and is dark around every corner. Disease, Crime, Violence… it’s all rampant here. I have not yet seen the sun for more than 2 hours at a time. Which is unfortunate because the creatures residing here love the darkness. I feel pity for the people of this place. So many just trying to live their lives, get by…

Banished to this horrible place just because they’re not good enough by the standards of those above.

I don’t know the name of the place above us.

I’m not meant to. None of us are.

I saw it once from the outskirts when I left on a hit. The upper lands glow so blindingly bright, and it’s much smaller in comparison to the dredges below it. I personally don’t understand how they can live, I’d go blind. Y'know, how the pompous types are. They don’t care about us. The only time they need us is when they want someone dead…

Speaking of, that seems to be the case.

On a board bolted to a wall in the middle of a bustling market, Sachiel looks up from his book, closing it and putting it away as he takes a paper off the board, holding it in his rough hand. The paper reads: “Wanted: Hunter for removal of Important Persons, please send applications to xxxxx_xxx-x we await your chance to take on this ‘Golden Opportunity’.”

What specific wording.

“Reward: 10,000,000c”

Whoo, this guy must have really fucked up for them to ask a price like that.

Here, if you’ve got the skill then people will let you take on jobs for them… they generally involve killing. Usually it’s for monsters that rampage and cause destruction in specific sectors that threaten the foundations that hold the upper city aloft. Sometimes you get hits for persons- and other times you get hits for assholes like this. The ones up above.

I registered to be a Hunter some time back… maybe after a month of eating rats on the street. I decided I would rather at least be able to afford a beer here and there- maybe actual food instead of just whatever I could scrounge up. I don’t care to take on hits against persons- they don’t interest me… Humans aren’t fun to hunt. However, this is an awfully good deal. I could actually get an apartment instead of sleeping in whatever nearby dumpster I can find…

Never hurts to try I suppose.

His ears bent back, he headed off deeper into the city, clearly somewhere in mind.

Another day in paradise.

Tch-I gotta stop saying that it’s becoming a habit.

#first proper post will be the prologue bc its allowed to exist

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