#voxtre
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Something random I was thinking about today: My mental voices for these characters:
Teltra: Pick a Eurobeat singer, pretty much any of them. tbh I tend to associate him with that genre in general.
Dagnakki: Honestly haven’t given them a ton of thought. Maybe somewhat flat, pretentious, and sarcastic.
The Lbutra in general: Pretty varied, but in general rather rough and mocking. For some reason I tend to picture the with Southern accents but that wouldn’t really make sense, the Peninsula probably has it’s own unique accent ( have no idea what it would be like, though)
Myrise: What do you think of when you imagine death metal? You’re probably close enough.
Voxtre: Sounds like what I think of when I imagine hardass math/science/physics instructors. Weary, condescending, and out to get you but with a bit of awkwardness in there. Though the vocalist of System of a Down also reminds me of how he might sound.
Fsemacea in general: Deep, but flat and droning like a chant. Like Chris Pohl sort of. Their roars generally sound like a strong gust of wind, with some louder/softer than others and some are more smooth and windy, others have more of a rattle/hoarseness to it (such as Dheroratera).
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Voxtre
Better quality here, tumblr keeps eating the picture
He’s beautiful. Even if he is pretty horrible.
Not sure where his coathanger is here, must be hiding behind his wings
(It is not hard to guess what coaster he’s a blatant reference to lol)
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The Peninsula, Chapter 3
lol this is late. I’ve been so lazy this week, but it’s finally here.
Teltra waits to meet Dheroratera and learns something horrible.
And by horrible, I mean the conflict that spurred Atochengra into forming and becoming so violent. I suppose it could be called a race war or even sort of genocide, but that doesn’t quite fit with the nature of the real-life events and phenomena its based on. The succession of technology and certain coaster stereotypes can translate into anthropomorphic terms rather.... unfortunately at times given the inhuman nature of machines and how people treat them.
The red and yellow Fsemacea led Teltra to where he would wait and gestured him towards a gap into a maze of palmettos. He entered, slowly and carefully, a bit afraid of how they would react if he disturbed the plants. Someone clearly put a lot of thought into making this place. He'd seen line mazes like this plenty of times of before, and knew that Far Spirits usually made them as a way of trapping the visiting spirits so they couldn't mob their creatures and overwhelm them. But for whatever reason, he had a feeling that perhaps the Fsemacea had figured out how to make these things as well for their own purposes. Stiff and eerie as they could be, they seemed to have a certain intelligence that others creatures didn't.
Owing to his size, the tallest of the plants hardly reached his thighs. He thanked the Moon Mimic that the forest stood above the sea of switchbacks. As much as he usually liked heat, when standing still like this, it could get unbearable, since most of the spirits would hide in shadier spots and he would feel weaker and weaker without them giving him their power. Feeling tired while trying to weave his way through the walkways to... wherever this line went to would have been a recipe for getting turned around and just wasting his time going back to the entrance. There was a surprising amount of empty trail to get through just to catch the tail end of the line of actual waiting creatures. Fortunately, his vantage point did make tracking his progress considerably easier, something he only came to appreciate once he spotted the creature at the end of the line.
They shivered and panted in the heat, trying to shade their black limbs under their crimson body in between clawing at the motes of light floating around Teltra and the bushes, trying to lure them to towards themself. The top of their head hardly reached his hips. They looked up at him, utterly emotionless, with blacked out eyes. A Fsemacea, of course.
"Hello, I'm Teltra. I'm here to see Dheroratera. And you are..."
"Xovret."
Their voice was louder than he expected, considering their size. Yet it was just as strangelt emotionless as that of the other Fsemacea he'd met before.
"Clearly not from here, are you? This is the line to see Dheroratera, we're all here for that. Anyhow, be glad you aren't. Pretty rough life, actually. Gotten even worse recently. Thing's been demanding that everyone come here for a "test" at least once a year. Obsessed with how much we four-legged folks shake or something. Thinks it's some kind of moral failure if we don't. Frankly, it's ridiculous. We all get shaky when we're older. They ought to damn well know that with how much they jitter themself. Creatures have done much worse... far worse."
It was odd to here them use such casual language and clearly try to show expression through their words when they clearly weren't able to show it on their face.
"Oh yeah, that does seem extreme. Pretty much everyone where I come from is pretty shaky. Though I guess I could kind of understand their reasoning if they're afraid of you guys ending up like the Lbutra. Honestly, I've grown to feel bad for them rather than be afraid of them or mad at them for being cruel. Constant screaming headaches from my head bouncing around all the time like that would make me snappy and irritable for sure. But they're not known for being well-constructed, I guess..."
Their expression was unchanged, naturally, but their tilted their head up so their eyes were more directly angled into Teltra's.
"Look, kiddo. Lbutra are saints compared the degenerate I used to share a name with."
"You changed your name?"
"Isn't it obvious? It would be cruel to actually give someone a name as ugly as Xovret. It's an anagram of my old name.... Voxtre."
They lowered their voice at the last word.
"What's so bad about Voxtre? Sounds like a decent name. All I know about any Voxtres is that reportedly he has a long, thin coathanger."
They shook their head very quickly, almost vibrating it, in disgust.
"You say that like you're describing the color of his feathers. Either you don't know what you're talking about or something unspeakably horrifying has happened in your neck of the woods while I've been holed up around here. You don't know who... Voxtre is... do you?"
"Admittedly, no. Just the coathanger thing from some rumor."
"Do you know who Dheroratera is? Myrise? Omenismid? Cstepesteler? Espythacerro?"
His face was blank with confusion and settling horror. A few of the names were vaguely familiar. But all he knew about them were the coathanger bits.
"Um... Espythacerro has a really thick hanger. Supposed to be hard to bend. And Myrise is... stupid? I think. It kind of stings to say that since everyone calls me that a lot and I don't even know who Myrise is."
"Oh my. Oh dear. Well.... Could you peek over the plants and kindly tell me how long the line looks? If we've got the time and you really want to spoil your innocence, err- let's just say I've got personal experience with all of the above."
Teltra glanced ahead. It didn't seem to have moved since he reached Xovret.
"Hasn't moved."
"Hopefully it's just a singular snagup. Usually Dheroratera is quick and efficient with their meetings. If they're having a slow morning, I'll let them have a piece of my mind if they want to criticize me for shaking at that examination. If you ask me, being always at the ready is much more important for a Fsemacea than being able to stand still as a statue."
"So, about that story?"
"Oh. Yes. That story. Now, how should I start?
Once upon a time there were two little dragons, or rather, creator spirits that took those forms, that worked for the Moon Mimic and decided to split off on their own. Before they did that they did admittedly make some creatures that looked sort of like us Fsemacea, but only one or two of those is even still alive now and nobody gives a shit about them since they were horrible and all they do is confuse people and defile our name. Anyways, the dragons didn't intent to deal with the business of making creatures after leaving, but then the Other Great Banenhaxer came and asked them to make one for them. That thing wasn't a great creature by today's standards, but was solid for his time and his Far Spirit was happy with him. And then more Far Spirits had the Dragons make ones for them. I was one of the earlier ones along with my twin, who was also named Xovret for a time. Though they had some work done recently and their name changed to something else, I believe. I don't care. It's nice that I won't get confused for them now, though.
Anyhow, the Dragons really got their break when they made the first of the floating Fsemcea 25 years ago. Spirits thought it wouldn't work out but it did and the visitors loved that guy. Never seen a creature so graceful but so fearsome, and hovering several feet above the ground at that. Year after that, they made Dheroratera for one of the Far Spirits of the Gardens. But they were too busy with other work to make one for both of them, so the Far Spirit of the Dark Garden got a Fsemacea, and the Far Spirit of the Old Garden got their creature from the Archer. You know anything about the Archer?"
"They made Atochengra."
"Well, yes, Atochengra was formed of a group of many of their creations, yes. But not all of the Archer's hand are Atochengra members. Do remember that they were amongst the first of the creators to work outside the Woodlands and that their work spans many years and varieties. Now, bear in mind that I'm much more shameless in my opinions than other Fsemacea are and hate how obsessive Dheroratera is about shutting us up. Anyhow, I lived in the years before Atochengra really formed, and unlike them, I've had good relationships with a couple of the folks who later joined it. I hate it when others lump a group as wide and varied as the Archer's creations into one thing. Sorry for the tangent, it's just something I feel strongly about."
"Oh no, it's fine. I feel bad for those guys who aren't Atochengrans but still get falsely associated with them.... I know what it's like to have everyone... assume I'm a monster because of who made me. Continue, I guess."
"I won't bore you with the full history of the Archer. I wasn't alive for most of it and don't know the specifics. All you really need to know is that they had their heyday about a decade or two before the Dragons started getting attention and they were really starting to lose steam around the same time they were rising up. More creators were coming up and beating them at their own games. Or so the rumors say. You definitely didn't see them making many of those giant status symbol greatest-in-the-land beasts in that last decade, though. Definitely not as many as they had before. They'd had a number of high-profile flops previously. Threirapoc, the creature that swung wildly as it ran around until it tore itself apart in three years. Cstepesteler and her absolutely rotten attitude scaring away all the visitors. Several plans for creatures that just didn't make it to the forming stage. The Spirit of the Old Garden had gotten some great ones from them in the past though, and the Archer was still a high-profile creator at the time, so they weren't too bothered by the idea. And that's when things got really fuzzy."
"Fuzzy how?"
"Some think that they were trying to be like the Dragons to catch up to the times. Look at the rare pictures and accounts of Myrise and everyone mentions those blacked-out eyes, that withered second set of arms and the smooth, full legs, and the way its horns wound together in the front sort of like Dheroratera's. Those are probably the most stereotypical Fsemacea features imaginable now that we're more common. Reportedly it even acted a bit like a Fsemacea, in some regards. There's also an argument that it was the Archer trying something new to stay on top of it all, and that it was just a coincidence that it looked like Fsemacea like that. Some claim it was a bastardization of the design meant for the Dragons that ended up passed on to the Archer when they didn't have the time for it. Stuff about the Archer's pretty primitive methods not working with what the spirit wanted from the design. Nobody seems to know but the Far Spirits and the creators involved themselves and I'm not going to endorse any of the rumors.
Myrise was that creature they made. Really awkward guy before and after they...turned. Too strange to really fit in with the Archer's other creations at first, despised by visitors because of how relentlessly snappy and cruel it could be with them and how it shook viciously, and just plain disturbing to look at for me. I saw it a few times. It kind of did look and act like a Fsemacea, but also not at all and it was uncanny as hell. Just looked wrong. Only a small group of visitors really liked it and it spent its days moping in secluded meadows crying about how it was such a shame to its creator and would never do good in the world until one day something clicked inside and.. well, it turned. Supposedly something the Naeaphid said set it off, but hell if I know for sure. Nobody does. Thing reportedly looked at a passing Fsemacea and just... snapped it. With that magic coathanger of its. It's a thing we know all about today, but we didn't even know it was possible at the time. Before then, all they used the things for was to tie themselves in knots and lick their own elbows. And then it went on a damn rampage. Snapping everyone it saw. I didn't get attacked, I lived too far away. But it was hideous. Seeing that silvery stuff dripping out of the victimes. Things poking out never meant to see the light of day. Seeing them warped into shapes they should have never taken. I don't think anyone knows why Myrise did it. Resentment for possibly ending up the way it did because of us, but not being one of us. Rage that its creator failed so much on it. Maybe just the pain of its loneliness, failure, and decaying health.
At first it was pretty much alone in its actions and was accepted as some sort of freak. But as shit started to hit the fan later that decade as the Dragons got bigger and the Archer was obviously on the major decline, the others also started going after us the same way. Grouping up. We actually know their intentions. They rallied around Myrise as a savior and later a martyr. They knew we were replacing them and didn't want to accept it. All they felt they could do was destroy us. Of course, our Far Spirits could patch the wounds, but the more they made us jumpy and seem injury-prone while hiding what they were doing, the more they thought they'd live just a bit longer. I want to feel bad for them. In my older age now where my future is uncertain, I know that feeling of dread. But their battle is useless. The Archer is dead and nobody makes creatures the way they did anymore, aside from those wretched imitation creatures I sometimes hear reports of. Now those certainly are mockeries of others' creations.
But anyways. That mess continued for a few years..... Until Dheroratera turned as well one day. Saw Myrise in a moment of weakness and just started viciously... stabbing it. I know, I can't picture it either. They just went after it with those two intertwined horns on their forehead, jabbing it over and over until the thing was so.. fucked up that it probably was barely salvageable. The thing is, nobody seems to agree when they did it. They used to claim that they did it while it was still alert and kicking and only managed it because it didn't have its coathanger, though now they won't speak about it. Popular rumor is that they actually did it after its Far Spirit gave up on it and attacked it while it was conked out and just lying around while the spirit was trying to get the thing off its hands. Because they wanted the glory and fame or something. Sure doesn't seem that way anymore. Far Spirit sure wasn't bothered by it given their actions a few years later.
We call that general time period "The Big Turn". Lots of stuff happened the years between when Myrise was put in a dormant state and when it was finally euthanized and hauled off by the Gnashers to be disposed of. Banenhaxers went batshit and bought more creatures than they could handle, Nlimnumile came about, Cstepesteler was modified and kicked out of Atochengra, and the Archer and the whoever made the Roedetsi died. Combination of the two main fanatics Cstepesteler and Myrise being gone and their creator out of the picture to save their asses made the idea of a fight a lot less appealing for them and they just sort of... slunk off into the desert and mostly kept to themselves. No clue what they're doing now, I don't go out there since you still hear about them snapping those that come near. Though numbers have definitely been dropping and they're aging rapidly. You hear all sorts of reports of wild shit going on out there, but none of it is really reliable, and types like Myrise with that sort of past behind them tend to attract a lot of gossip. And that's it. That's the end of the story as I know it."
Teltra was still for a while, struggling to process it all. It was just so much information and Xovret's voice was so flat and emotionless that he had a hard time understanding it as real and really reacting to it.
"But who was Voxtre? You didn't even mention that guy. Or Omenismid. Or Espythacerro. Or really that Cstepesteler either."
"Oh, yes, Voxtre. He was basically the brains behind the whole operation. Didn't seem to really be that into the whole thing, but he kept them all in line and did some nasty stuff. Guy's got to be more heartless than a lot of us even are under Dheroratera's ridiculous rules. Stone cold freak who supposedly supported the whole thing with some sort of twisted logic about how we're going to replace everyone some day and suck the life and soul out of this Peninsula. Every few years you hear something about him trying to scrape the remnants of Atochengra back together and reportedly he's still leading whatever's left of it, but nobody's actually seen him do anything since The Big Turn. Which makes sense, since there's no logical reason to go recklessly charging into action when all you've got are a ramshackle lot of old creatures that probably won't last the decade anyways. Hell, recent rumors have been that he'll be one of the next ones to get axed. Or that he's fallen into a pit of quicksand. No idea why that's such a common one. In any case, nobody in their right mind wants to be mistaken for or associated with him.
Omenismid was basically responsible for the end of the Archer. An ambitious idea, he was, but he had so many issues that fixing him wound up draining all their resources and that was that. Espythacerro was sort of a second-tier wacko. Guy hated pretty much any other creature over 20 feet that he felt was a mockery of him since he was the first. Which isn't even technically right since there was a taller guy several years before him, but he's better known and everyone forgot about that guy. Didn't have the hatred of Fsemacea as a whole since his Far Spirit loves him and would never harm him, but he sure had it out for the bigger Fsemacea. Kind of an incompetent fool, but you have to admire him for his persistence and energy. He's been fighting his own little battle even after the Turn and that's the reason why Dheroratera doesn't let any of the bigger guys anywhere near Atochengra territory. He's still charging around there, ready to use that coathanger of his. Unless he also fell into a pit of quicksand. Seriously, I don't know why such a ridiculous rumor pops up so often for him and Voxtre. And Cstepesteler was up with Myrise and him for a while and pretty much was just aggressive because she thought it was fun. Sicko. Nobody's heard from her since she was changed, though. Reportedly can't even use her coathanger anymore. Might have calmed down a bit. The visitors seem to like her more now, at least. "
"..Oh."
Teltra still really didn't know how to react. Other than point out that the line was virtually gone.
"Xovret, you should probably get a move on. Is Dheroratera hard on tardiness?"
They glanced back, noticed that the Fsemacea in front of them was long gone, and raced ahead to look for the back of the line, Teltra following close behind.
A small yellow-and-black Fsemacea, barely taller than Xovret, floated above the ground at the entrance that the line was now up to. Their expression was indistinguishable, of course, but their motioning toward Xovret was harsh. Xovret gave Teltra one last little wave before the larger Fsemacea swept them away into the cavern and another nearly identical all-black one took its place. The only difference besides the color was that its tail curved to the right rather than the left and its horns were a mirror image of its. Such was the nature of so-called clone creatures, though this was obviously a flipped one, which were not unheard of.
He had nothing better to do than to glance around at his surrounding, now feeling more apprehensive than excited about the prospect. Xovret... was nothing like the Fsemacea he'd met previously, with their very casual and expressive wording and openness. It was odd. He wasn't sure if he should trust what they said. Sure, there was lots of detail and it wasn't impossible... but there were so many parts that they left open that were suspicious. Maybe it was just the poorer record keeping of the old days- the Ehtstunisas hadn't been as unified either to demand such things and technology had presumably improved since then. But it seemed odd that nobody was around to witness what would become a series of events so supposedly major.
But judging by their reaction when he claimed he didn't know who those creatures were... He wondered what Dagnakki was hiding from him. He knew they kept him away from especially hazardous jobs and didn't bother sending him to Fsemacea territory as they were the exact opposite and his abilities were wasted on such endeavors. Or so they always claimed. It planted a seed of doubt in him, though. He was going to do what they always did-ask around and see what others had to say and see if they had any reputable proof rather than just take the rumors as-is.
He gulped. He'd never disobeyed them like this before... but he was tempted to run off and figure it out himself after bringing the message to Dheroratera. He wasn't going to likely get another chance, and he doubted that Dagnakki would give him the truth about the whole thing if he asked, considering they'd hidden it so long.
Why wasn't he more emotional about this? He wasn't sure why. Something about the whole thing felt so distant and detached from him. There really wasn't any reason he should be upset over something that didn't effect him and likely never would. But he also knew he should feel at least a little sympathy for the Fsemacea. But he just couldn't. Something about the stiffness, the lack of emotion. It just made them seem like inanimate objects rather than things with feelings and he felt horrible for how he felt this way.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and tried to put some of the pieces together. That fellow he'd seen out in the desert a few days ago was certainly suspicious. Maybe it was just something innocuous that he'd taken the wrong way. That sort of thing would explain all the wild rumors about Atochengra's actions.
It didn't matter, though. He didn't have time to finish that train of thought. The low voice of the floating Fsemacea interrupted it as they beckoned him in. He swallowed again and slowly entered the cave with them trailing right behind him. it was more of a short tunnel than a cave and emptied into a clearing in a more heavily wooded part of the forest. And there he saw Dheroratera.
They weren't terribly large or physically impressive. Actually, they were known as perhaps the most generic Fsemacea in existence, other than their odd head shape. They were roughly average in height, perhaps a bit below it, and came up to his chest at most. They were of a very average build, and somewhat rectangular, though still very smooth in appearance as Fsemacea generally were. But they had a certain presence to them. The way their long snout emphasized the directions they turned their head and curved down disapprovingly at rest. The narrowed, stern expression locked onto their black eyes. And most of all, the red specking all over their body, including their horns. It was something they were somewhat known for, and somewhat self-conscious of. It made them look considerably older than they were, with some foolish spirits or newly formed beings mistaking them as being older than some creatures well over a decade their elder. To a human, the flecks might have also resembled blood. They even were starting to discolor their golden horns.
Teltra tried to look away from them, intimidated by their all-seeing gaze, and kept quiet, waiting for them to speak. They didn't. The other Fsemacea tapped him on the shoulder and muttered to him.
"Dheroratera is incapable of words at a nonhazardous volume. Speak first, and they will tap back."
He looked back at Dheroratera, gazing into the spot between their two front horns.
"I have this message for you from Dagnakki."
He bowed down to hand it to them. They did not move. He straightened up and reached his arm down to their level. They took it from him firmly and started rapping on a rock beside them with one of their free arms. The creatures did not write in letters, but in a series of dots and dashes related to Morse code. Occasionally the tapped form was used when it was too loud or otherwise dangerous to talk, or with creatures that couldn't speak. This was the first time he had experienced the latter.
"I shall examine."
That's what the taps seemed to say.
They took a moment to read over the message. Knowing what he now knew about them, he averted his gaze as long as he could to get the image and temptation to ask them about it out of his mind. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed them rereading it multiple times, then gesture towards the guard behind him. The two waved him away and he wobbled backwards at first, before making off out of the clearing and then what was presumably the exit tunnel.
Well, here he was. Free, and with potential knowledge that he certainly wasn't expecting. He really wasn't sure what to do with himself and took another moment just to stare off across the scrub and watch the lakes' water ripple until he felt more confident in what he would do next. One thing for sure, he wasn't going back. Or at least not straight back for now. For how odd they were, he liked Xovret. Their wording could be harsh, but they were generally polite to him. Surely there were more Fsemacea like them out there. He wanted to meet them. The more he thought about it, the less appealing returning to Dagnakki was. There were others on the Peninsula who treated him decently, better than that, actually. And nobody had exactly hurt him out here. Why would he go back now?
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Old work, but leaving these guys here.
I’ll be redrawing them soon! Not too hard to guess some things about them, but I won’t say outright who’s who yet. Other than that one of them is extremely relevant to the story, one is fairly significant, one is.. eh, a side character that doesn’t do much, one is pretty much irrelevant in this new version, and one sadly lost a lot of their relevance in this version, but is still very dear to my heart.
Consider this a teaser
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I said a while ago that I give a ton of characters longass heads and well... I think you can see what I mean now
#from top to bottom: voxtres. another moo cow guy who's pretty unimportant. teltra. a singular Lbutra. kitiru. and at the very bottom#nsteamarek abd vtegnaselecene#irrelevant yabbering
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SOme character redesigns I’ve been working on. Moderate marking tweaks on Dheroratera (bottom right), major marking redo on Kitiru (top right), lineart and color redo on Teltra (bottom left), and substantial design and marking changes to Vlevetsi (top left).
Also did some changes to Voxtre but I’ll post him tomorrow or something
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I might do a subtle tweak to Voxtre's desogn to make him a little vulture-like since I keep making his beak too long for a regular chicken lol
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The Peninsula, Chapter 4
Damn, it’s been a while. I need to find a better schedule for writing/posting this stuff.
Teltra lies some more, and makes more life-altering decisions.
This one is pretty peaceful by Peninsula standards, the worst thing is just characters being jerks.
Teltra couldn’t really decide what he should do next. Xovret’s revelation and the confusing allure of this foreign land consumed him. He couldn’t think straight enough to make any sort of solid decision while juggling the question of if that tale was true or if he was even awake right now, given how alien the landscape was to him. On autopilot, he strolled away from the woods and just kept walking. Rocks stabbed into his hooves. Rough grasses scratched at his ankles, making him grateful for his long fur. He felt water rise and fall as he continued through shallow lakes, not even noticing when he got wet. He followed the light of the sun as it sunk towards the horizon, leading him to the coast. For a time, the grass got shorter, snarlier, more ragged. And then it vanished, only to be replaced by smooth sand. None of it registered with him. The overload of strangeness of the day left him numb.
Here the landscape felt even more unreal. He’d never seen a beach before, but was still too consumed by his thoughts to enjoy its novelty. Salty waves lapped at his feet as they slowly sunk into the wet sand. The sky shifted orange, then red, then faded to blue through the building clouds. Darkness began to shroud the beach. But he knew he still had a few hours until he would fall asleep. The creatures were often awake until midnight in the summer. The swarms of passing spirits shrank as the day wore on, and the heat and excitement of the day only built as night fell. He was often at his most excitable, but also reckless at this time.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. You are becoming shorter by submersion. The rumors about Voxtre resemble that.”
He was shaken out of his trance by the odd statement, and realization that his hooves were stuck in the sand. He almost turned around to look for the speaker, but they soon strolled around to see him face-to-face. The creature itself was a bit shorter than him, but due to its floating, could look straight into his eyes. It was hard to make out its form in the dim light of the last of the hovering spirits, but it seemed to be roughly the color of the night sky. Somewhat delicate in appearance for a Fsemacea, with projections flowing from its back and limbs. It moved in huge, slow motions, peculiar for its size.
“You’re my opposite.”
“What on earth are you even talking about?”
“I am beautiful, reliable, graceful, peaceful.”
“And boastful.”
After a delay, they slowly drew back in disgust or confusion, not coming to a stop until they were several yards away from him.
“You responded to me. You Woodland thing.”
“Aw, can’t a Woodie get respect from even a Fsemacea? I thought you guys were supposed to be the nicest creatures around, or at least the most impartial.”
“Sbatyl and the twins won’t look at me. I replaced Vitabre. I have never seen others of your kind. Though Spirits still prefer the first three to me. They claim they will never be ended. Unlike me. I will someday be euthanized and none will care. Even though I am superior. Such is the way of those not of the Woodlands”
“I’m not even sure what you’re saying. Excuse my rudeness, but why do you Fsemacea speak so vaguely?”
The red-and-yellow Fsemacea from earlier had circled around to his left side. He had not heard the soft, but heavy footsteps approaching.
“It is how it is. I’ve tried to help it. I want to help her with it. I want to help her in general, as I want to help myself. Which is why we are leaving to the north in the immediate future. You wouldn’t understand the reasoning.”
He caught himself for a moment. These two hadn’t set the best first impression, but this could be a chance he didn’t want to miss. He didn’t even know what lived farther north, or that there even was land beyond the Woodlands and Atochengra’s territory. Ordinarily, he might have thought it through. But this was a late summer night, and being Fsemacea, he had faith in them, so he lied as he had to Dagnakki before.
“Oh, I’m heading that way, too. Would you mind if I came with you?”
The larger Fsemacea responded quickly.
“I suppose you are from the woodlands. And therefore you are immune to Atochengra’s powers. And I feel you will be trustworthy due to the nature of your sort of beasts. Please do come with us. So long as you keep all that we say a secret. Most do not know about Dheroratera’s details, and they will not appreciate them being spread.”
The smaller one began to raise their arms in a sign of frustration, but it came too slowly and the other Fsemacea’s words reached him first, leaving them frustrated and their protest meaningless.
And those were their last actions before midnight struck and all three of them slumped over.
A low fog covered the inland regions, filtering out into a soft, bleary light as they made their way off before Dheroratera awakened for the day.
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By noon that day, they were deep in Atochengra-controlled territory, where all there was were the shriveled white desert plants and merciless sun. Far over the horizon they made out the dim, dark shapes of the distant mountains of the Woodlands. As terrifying as it should have been, it was remarkably calming in its isolation. Teltra paused to look at a tangled cactus.
“You know, I wish I knew what to call you two rather than just “that red tallow Fsemacea” and “that blue and pink Fsemacea” or “hey”.”
The red-and-yellow one responded.
“We remain in such a hazardous zone and that is what comes to mind?”
“I don’t see anyone anywhere near us. We could just run, you know, aren’t you two both pretty fast?”
“All they need is sight to use the coathangers. Of course, you wouldn’t understand such things.”
“Well, we can keep moving and talk as we go.”
They shrugged and they accelerated back to their previous pace.
“ I’m Teltra, you may have heard of me before, I guess I made a pretty big splash years ago and the Ehtstunisa love me. I’m usually referred to in masculine terms, as per tradition in the Woodlands.”
“I am Loreaft. That is Vlevetsi. We are referred contrary to you in the Fsemacea tradition, though at times I am made the “they” when things are complicated, as I am senior to Vlevetsi.”
Vlevetsi butted in
“Hurry up, hurry up, what if they suddenly come up?”
Vlevetsi was particularly scared of Atochengrans due to her slow movements and lower speed than Loreaft, though she has never met one before, having never left Fsemacea territory until then.
They continued at a moderate pace to let them breath and talk more.
“I haven’t been to the Woodlands in so long, you know? I haven’t really had any reason to go there and generally been too scared to venture that way or go out of my way to ask for permission to go out there. I know they all hate me in there. It would be like sticking my hand in a hornet’s nest, as the humans used to say, according to Nyoccel. But I don’t know what a hornet is and I’m curious about what their nest would look like, kind of how I feel about the Woodlands. It’s been a decade or so and I can’t help but wonder how things have changed there.”
“Can’t imagine they have.”
Loreaft seemed cold and callous, stiff and dismissive in posture.
“Your kind have always been behind the times since the other sort of creatures came about and to this present day, you’re an outmoded novelty made for nostalgia’s sake.”
He shot her a bit of a playful glare, exaggerating his movements to lighten the mood.
“Hey! That wasn’t very nice. There were plenty of creators making us back then and I’m pretty sure there still are. Still, think about how you outsider guys were that long ago. The height wars were ending and smaller creatures were getting popular after Neentis popped up.”
“I wasn’t around back then. I’m only eight years old.”
“Oh. So, what is with you guys and your beef with us Woodland guys anyways? Always acting like we’re so stupid and old-fashioned.”
“That is what others tell me. The Dragons do not care for and want nothing to do with them, and what I have heard of your kind is unimpressive. I have not bothered to pay attention to them.”
“But what do the Dragons have against us?”
“Dheroratera dislikes the clumsy, the shaky, the fragile. That is how your kind is. There is reason why they only made one of you bigger than 20 feet tall. You are delicate. The few I have seen always shiver and there is no love for shivering.”
“Eh? But that’s what the old cats told me was our appeal. That we’re looser and more unruly than other creatures. That we can shake and get away with it because we’re supposed to be wild and less controlled. Though I’m not so much myself, and it’s kind of why… they don’t like me terribly much. They tend to lump me in with you outsiders, and I guess I’ve lumped myself in with them as well.”
“I understand partially. The older Fsemacea think little of of us new ones. I’ll leave it at that, you’re- it’s not relevant.”
The two went silent, feeling a little awkward, but started to slow a bit. They knew as they headed north they were heading farther towards the outskirts of the more dangerous area. They passed a particularly large boulder and thought they heard some a voice, perhaps chanting, but brushed it off. None of them had been here before, or at least not for a long time. The far reaches of the desert were often a haven for the strange and estranged.
“Where are you going anyways, Loreaft? Besides just north.”
“A place for outcast Fsemacea.”
“But where is that?”
She sighed
“Beyond the Woodlands. You have reason to be glad.”
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Height list
Just a list of heights for all the characters introduced so far since I haven’t brought up all of them:
Dagnakki: 45'7″
Red-and-yellow Fsemacea (Loreaft): 23′
Esknaseknya: 18′10″
Teltra: 18′1″
Myrise: 15′
Voxtre: 14'10″
Dheroratera: 14′4″
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Something of a guide to how I pronounce the characters’ names
Lerrengwesten- Lair-ehng-west-en, but I’m also fond of the sound of Lair-ehng-vest-en
Ehtstunisa- EHTZ-too-nee-sah
Nlegera- Nleh-gair-ah
Banenhaxer- BAH-nen-hack-sur
Teltra- Should be self-explanatory, but Tell-truh or Tell-trah
Dagnakki- Dagg-NAH-kee
Dorssiccenont- Dor-SIS-sen-nont
Nlimnumile- Nuh-LIM-new-mai-ul
Tdaererce- T-dair-air-say
Xeercoatl- ZEER-ko-atl
Dheroratera- Dair-OR-ah-tair-ah or Dur-OR-ah-tair-ah
Lteiasecl- Leh-TAY-uh-sek-ull
Fsemacea- Fis-SAY-mah-say-ah
Lbutra- Luh-BOO-trah
Nepspra- Nehps-prah
Naeaphid- NAY-ah-fid
Myrise- Meer-AIZ
Voxtre- VOCKS-tur
Espythacerro- Ess-PYE-tha-sair-oh (may roll the r if you wish, I went with this name deliberately because it had the Spanish word for “hill” which really fit what this guy is based on)
Cstepesteler- Cuh-steh-PEST-ell-air
Xovret- ZOV-ret
Atochengra- At-oh-CHEN-grah
Loreaft- LOR-ay-ahft or LOR-ee-ahft
Vlevetsi- Vlev-EHT-si
Nyoccel- NYOCK-chel, NYAH-chel, NYAH-sell, sometimes even Nee-O-sell, it’s an extremely common name and many deliberately pronounce their differently. It also depends on the speaker.
Neentis- NEEN-tiss
Kitiru- Kit-TEE-roo
Tanonuim- Tah-NON-yu-ihm
Nsteamarek- Nih-STAY-ah-mair-ehk
Vtegnaselecene- Vih-TEG-na-sell-eh-seen
Sollusco- Sohl-LOO-sko
Sollosco- Sohl-OH-sko (this is not a typo but totally different guy than Solussco)
Bygovir- BIG-oh-veer
Vitabre- Vit-AY-burr
Apatner- Ah-PAT-nurr (This is an extremely common name like Nyoccel)
Nerevtha- Nair-EV-tha
Htolgia- Hit-OL-jee-ah
Necchmia- NECK-mee-ah or NECH-mee-yah
Thendru- THEN-droo or TEN-dru
Gillorn- GILL-orn
Chepoirrat- Shay-PWAHR-rah
#lwinfo#these sound so southern now that I write them out#but really pronounce them however the hell you want I pretty much never say them out loud and they might sound silly#that way since they mostly are jsut meant to look nice.
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Chapter 2
Teltra goes back to tell Dagnakki about what he saw, and a bit of bullshitting (pun intended) gives him the opportunity of a lifetime.
Shortly after Teltra had observed the bizarre ritual, his Far Spirit knocked him into sleep in a ditch.
He awoke the next morning and dashed off, out of this questionable territory before the floating Nlegera and Ehtstunisa would catch him there and possibly snitch on him. Fortunately, he had a few hours usually reserved for stretching his legs and preparing for the day to make his move. By the time the sun had risen, he was well on his way towards where Dagnakki had taken up residence. It had was a short run, as he had covered most of the distance the previous day. But on this run he saw another peculiar thing as he was streaking by.
A dark blue and pink blur. It was slightly shorter than him. He could make out little detail due to the speed they were traveling at, but he swore that it hovered above the ground like a Lbutra and had four legs, and possibly four arms as well.
Was this a Fsemacea?
To other creatures, Fsemacea were common. There were well over 100 of them living on the Peninsula, which had a total population of only a few thousand creatures. In theory, they should have been the least controversial of any creator's spawn. They kept to themselves, followed an incredibly strict set of rules to a tee, which included remaining neutral and passive, and not showing indications of emotion or opinions to avoid even a hint of controversy. However, many took this as apathy and selfishness. In particular, the creatures that would come to form Atochengra.
To make matters worse, Fsemacea were generally regarded as the closest to physical perfection by Far Spirits and many Nlegera and Ehtstunisa. Lteiasecl dominated popularity rankings the Ehtstunisa held, true, but the physical toughness, calm demeanor, and grace of Fsemacea endeared them to the Far Spirits, who had to deal with the consequences of rowdier or more physically fragile beings. It was also a matter of aesthetics. To match their fluid, gradual movements, they were just as smooth and gracefully curved in physical form, composed of thick, gently arcing shapes, devoid of intricate details or physical faults, entirely smooth, soft, and supple. Much as Teltra's existance drew rage and envy from the other inhabitants of the Woodlands, Fsemacea as a whole drew similar ire from other creatures, particularly Atochengra. They saw them as a plague, replacing creatures with more personality and history than them with their dependable blandness.
But Teltra had never actually met a Fsemacea, only heard the tales of them. What others took for mediocrity and stiffness he took for intriguing ambiguity. What were they really like beneath their stoic facades? How on earth were they all controlled so tightly? Why did they speak so vaguely, but at such a high volume? And how on earth did they age so gracefully and behave so smoothly and consistantly? A part of him also empathized with how ostracized they were for being "perfect". To him, they just needed a chance.
He was also fascinated by them visually. In contrast to his old neighbors in the Woodlands, with their thin, jagged brown streaks, shaggy fur and generally rough appearance, they were very neat and smooth aesthetically. While physical contact was generally something shunned by all factions on the Peninsula due to its possible danger, he wanted to touch them and feel how soft and smooth they were. He would even be happy just to draw his eyes over the curves of their vibrant forms. There was just something... ethereal about them that drew him in.
Perhaps the blur he saw was a Fsemacea. He was going to go with that. Sure, it was possibly a complete lie, but he wasn't going to let a chance like this slip by.
Lost in thought and plotting about how he was going to spin the story to Dagnakki to get permission to see a Fsemacea, or at the very least investigate something besides the petty squabbles of Lbutra, he found himself back at the dwelling much faster than expected.
Dagnakki was frozen in place while the three heads growing off of them wiggled around wildly, yabbering to each other about whatever their host was just writing.
"Is it true that the wires aren't really coathangers?"
"Well, some are, some aren't. It's been said that they all have wires of different lengths and thicknesses."
"Like Voxtre has a long and thin one while Espythacerro's is stubby and nearly unbendable. Supposedly because he kept busting more delicate ones. "
"Like that wood-head would have the smarts to know what to do with a more flexible one! He's not a clever one, that Espy. Though not as stupid as that Myrise must have been. How did that Dheroratera, that boring old Fsemacea, manage to get by its hanger with how easy it was to-"
One head's eyes went wide as it noticed that Teltra had entered just before it had insulted the whole of the Woodlands. That was enough for Dagnakki to grab control of their body back.
"Well, you've returned then? Tell me about those Lbutra."
"Uh, the reason they all have such insulting names is because Naeaphid names them. They're all really nasty of course. Even worse than they sound. It named the big Lbutra after one of .... those sorts of creaturs. That's how bad they are. But I saw something much more-"
"That Naeaphid did it. Well, didn't think it would have been something so obvious. Damn. Now that I think about it, I'd be more shocked if it had let someone else come up with rude names for that lot, given how close they are to it. Actually, it's kind of odd that it never mentioned this before with how we're in regular correspondance. We trade gossip. One of us misses a week, we end up in a written screaming match over how we'll never send any more dirt and tell the Nlegera that the slacker killed someone and it's been covered up all along. Would you mind giving me more details, though? The more specific my recordings, the more knowledge we'll have to remember the past as it truly was."
" Sure, I'll explain later but I have something even more important to say!"
"What? Better be actually important and not just that you saw another interesting hunk of wreckage."
"I saw one of the coathanger guys fiddling around with something suspicious behind a boulder!"
"One of those Atochengra guys? Yeah, they do that a lot. Everything looks suspicious when you have a past like them and constantly look like you're shaking in fright."
"Oh, but the figure told me not to tell anyone "for the sake of their reputation". I saw a Fsemacea running around....later. Doesn't that sound suspicious?"
They feigned interest as not to bother Teltra any more.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. But I've got better things to do than check out every weird coincidence out there."
"But couldn't I at least try tracking down the Fsemacea and ask why it was running off like that? It must be connected to that fishy business somehow!"
Teltra was getting more pleading, but Dagnakki was hesitant. There was a reason why they had left Teltra ignorant of the real past relationship between Atochengra and the Fsemacea. It was because they didn't want him bogged down with worries and fears all the time. They knew he was a sweet, caring creature at heart and couldn't bear the idea of him getting tangled up in the wrong side of a dispute that touchy with how ignorant he was about such things. If he grew too emotionally invested in something, they also feared him straying from their side and becoming too attached to that cause instead.
“It was probably just in a hurry. Don’t worry about such things.”
He realized he wasn’t going to convince them with the truth. It pained him, but he knew he was going to have to lie to make this whole situation sound worse than it really was.
“I heard the figure in the desert shouting something about… Dheroraratera! That they wanted to get revenge on the creature that they replaced all those years ago. Voxtre was going to go after them with a new and improved wire for optimal bending! The guy I saw was testing the flexibility of a new wire by twisting it round and round this rock.”
Dagnakki, having not heard the three heads’ conversation earlier, gasped. How did Teltra know.. those names? They never told him about those beings before. Did he hear about them elsewhere?
“T-Teltra… Who the hell told you about Dheroratera? And Voxtre? Where did you hear those names?”
“The guy in the desert! They kept going on about how important it was that they target Dheroritira and about how it was all Voxtre’s orders or something. Uh, they kept breaking down in tears throughout the thing they were doing with the wire about how horrible it was that they lost the guy that Dheroroterra-“
They stared into his eyes in horror, subconsciously mouthing a name. Myrise. That one he'd heard earlier. Something Teltra took note of.
“Nerice, they wanted to bring back Nerice! Kept crying about how much they miss them and want them back.”
Dagnakki only went more rigid. They’d heard rumors that Atochengra “wanted their fellow beings back”. This seemed to only confirm them. They didn’t know which was more worrisome. The fact that Teltra was becoming aware of these things or the possibility of Atochengran activity resuming. In a rare act of emotion, their hard gaze softened. Their eyes were getting hot. There really was no good way out of this now. They took a moment to collect theirself and breathe deeply.
“Teltra. This. This is a grave matter. I’m not sure if you actually know how grave it is. And it’s one that really doesn’t involve you either. Please, whatever you do, forget whatever you saw. I’ll handle it myself. But it’s unrealistic of me to expect you to completely drop your curiosity into this matter…. So you know what? I’ll let you go meet a Fsemacea tomorrow. Hell, I’ll let you meet…. Dheroratera. Because I do have something you could do that shouldn’t be too dangerous. I got word from the Naeaphid that they made a vague jab at my physical fragility several weeks ago and I’m sending that green fucker a piece of my mind. Just give it to them, and tell them not to shoot the messenger. They’re emotionless bricks anyways, those Fsemacea. It’s actually pretty funny to insult them because of how little they react. Really, you’re not missing much by never meeting one but eh, I suppose you only live as your own independent soul once. Might as well satisfy your curiosity.”
He lit up at the news. Finally, his chance! He had no clue who Dheroratera actually was. It was a name he had heard once and just stuck in there since he rather liked how it sounded. But it was hopefully a Fsemacea and he was more than happy to settle with that.
Teltra spent the rest of the day writing out the details of his experiences, first that of the being in the desert and then that of the encounter with the Lbutra. Ehtunisa and Nlegera batted as his shoulders the whole time, egging him to move a little so they could watch. He indulged them by taking a break in the evening to go for a good run as the sun set. The spirits loved sunsets, though the creatures didn’t particularly care for them. Bright colors in nature were an everyday occurrence for them with how garish their Far Spirits often colored them.
After returning, he rushed to finish writing before he knew his Far Spirit would edge him into slumber. At a set time each evening, each Far Spirit would make their creatures fall asleep. On one hand, insomnia was a virtually nonexistent occurrence, but it also meant that schedules had to revolve around when a creature awoke and fell asleep each day, which varied widely. But one thing that was not controlled by the far Spirits, or controlled by anyone really, were dreams creatures had.
He was out in the desert. But it was very late at night, far beyond the time his Far Spirit usually let him remain awake. And before him stood the creature from the previous night, talking into that can again. They offered him another can attached to another magnet and wire, which he cautiously accepted. A voice from within the can spoke to him.
“Dorssiccenont, do you hear me? Have you killed Dagnakki yet? That bitch needs to die. All the Lteiasecl need to die. You’ve killed humans before, surely you can kill an actual creature this time. It’s for our own safety. We can’t let such dangerous radicals control our Peninsula. Or at the very least we must subdue them. If a group like us can calm down, surely those Moony freaks can. Surely you know all about suppressing rebellion, being a Fsemacea? You’ve already replaced Nlimnumile on the popularity polls. Use your influence. End them and bring lasting peace to the land. And endless moonlight.”
“Who’s Dorssiccenont?”
“You don’t know the real name of the Moon? It yearns to end the evils created by its imitator. Crash down onto this Peninsula, oh Moon. You are its physical body on earth, Dorssiccenont. Don’t deny your identity. Wipe out the Lteiasecl.”
“Crash down?”
He noticed the white crescent in the sky growing larger.
“What do you mean by crash down?”
“You have wished for it. You have commanded for it. Thank you very much.”
The crescent now filled his field of vision until everything was white.
Everything was still white when he opened his eyes. The sun was fierce today. Today. It was the day. The day to leave and finally see Dheroratera!
He leapt up and tugged a rolled-up piece of paper lying in front of Dagnakki on their desk. There. Now he was ready to go. All he had to do was a wait a few minutes for a few floating spirits to mob him and give him the power to get moving.
And soon he was off. He didn’t really know where he was headed, but he’d heard from a Lbutra ages ago that the Fsemacea lived in this general direction. He felt the sand warm up beneath his hooves, but the heat did not bother him. In fact, most creatures loved the heat. Something about it energized them, though it exhausted the floating spirits more easily. Fortunately, it was a holiday in the heavens and as he sped through the desert, floating orbs sprang out to and from him and the white shrubs as he passed them. The place where Dagnakki lived was towards the western edge of the desert, as they were technically a Lteiasecl and preferred to stay closer to those of their own kind, making this trip considerably longer than the ones he usually made to the south. But the quarreling of the spirits around him was more than enough
“Hey, you’re shaking a little today”
“What do you expect from an old guy like him-”
Teltra had to butt in.
“Old? I’m only 11.”
“W-What? But you woody guys have been around forever!”
“Some of them have, but there’s younger ones, too. Dagna sometimes has me meet some of the new ones coming since they’re fairly nice to me compared to the others.”
“Who’s Dagna?”
“Dagnakki. The green and white one with the tentacles.”
At this point the spirits were beginning to get agitated in the heat and Teltra fell silent.
“Pfft, fuck the Great Banenhaxer, they ripped off Tdaererce’s red and black tentacle guy!”
“Um, excuse me, but the green one came first. It was the other way around.”
“YOU’RE BOTH FUCKING IDIOTS THE MOON MIMIC MADE BOTH OF THEM! THEY’RE A MODEL OF CRITTER IT MAKES! BESIDES, XEERCORATL CAME FIRST AND IS THE BEST ANYWAYS! FUCK OFF!”
Ugh, not those Ehtstunisa. While they did know more than the average spirit their attitudes could be… irritating. They were admittedly amusing to listen to, though, but really didn’t do much for Far Spirits despite how vocal and obnoxious they were for their love of their creatures.
“OH HEY YOU’RE GOING EAST WHERE ALL THOSE FSEMACEA ARE! FSEMACEA ARE SO SHITTY AND BORING. I MISS THE DAYS WHEN THE FAR SPIRITS KEPT TO THE WOODLANDS AND ACTUALLY HAD GUTS. DIDN’T CARE IF A CREATURE WAS TOO WILD OR KILLED SOMEONE ON OCCASION. NLEGERA THESE DAYS ARE PUSSIES FOR BEING SCARED OF ANYTHING VAGUELY INTIMIDATING!”
“Hush, don’t say such vile words in public like that. And don’t be so disrespectful to the creatures, they can’t do anything about their situations anyways.”
This was obviously a particularly obnoxious group. But their banter did keep him entertained through the black expanse. The shrubs were getting denser again and he began to spot the more colorful ones that marked the borders of the Desert. Soon enough there were soft but patchy grasses growing. For such a wild place, they were neatly trimmed short, likely the responsibility of a mysterious power. There were palm trees and pine specked about, but not enough to block the fierce wind kicking across the land.
Or was it wind? He constantly heard the sounds of what sounded like mighty gusts, but felt nothing. He looked down at his fur. It was virtually still now that he had stopped moving. What on earth was making that racket? He craned his head around, looking for a source, only to find that the blowing sounds were coming from seemingly all directions at once. One of the phantom winds seemed to be blowing from the direction of a clump of trees not far from him.
He could hear it grow louder as he got closer, until it was unbearable. Hooves clamped over his ears, he wove between the trees until he saw the source of the sound. And a broad smile overtook his face.
Of course. It was a sleeping Fsemacea. A very small and very odd-looking one, though. It perhaps would only reach his waist if it stood up and was a faint greenish-brown, nearly off-white, in color and covered in smeared rust-colored markings. Not the typical neat and clean ones most Fsemacea had. It slept in a depression in the ground, which was likely why he had had such difficulty finding it.
Well, that presumably wasn’t Dheroratera. As he knew he would look more like a fool if he tried to figure out their location and identity all on his own, he decided to ask a local for directions. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. Upon leaving the patch of trees, he promptly ran into a bulky red and yellow Fsemacea that stood slightly above him.
They were beautiful. They resembled a combination of a tiger and a heavy snake, with a sleek but furred face that led into a thick mane, then a smooth, scaly torso and body covered in a curious mix of both. Their breathing was heavy and loud, but constant. Much like the windy sounds he’d been hearing. He found himself gazing into their face. It was stiff and emotionless, as all Fsemacea’s were. The Dragons simply did not give them the muscles to do so to reduce costs and remove one more “largely unnecessary” body part with potential for failure. Their locked expression was slightly sad and unsure, but had a dominating air to it. Most intriguing of all were their pitch-black eyes. He subconsciously found himself staring into them.
“What is the subject that you are visually examining?”
“H-Hi. What does Dheroratera look like and where can I find them?”
“That did not answer my inquiry. But I am presently heading to their location. It appears uncertain if you understand the status they hold, but Dheroratera is our controller. Chosen by the Dragons of the Sun, who have given us life. They are responsible for ensuring that the Dragons' regulations are complied with and their will is achieved here. You appear unaware of their significance. It will be difficult for a newcoming outsider such as you to access their attention. But do trail behind me and I can direct you to their location.”
The odd way they worded things struck him, but their appearance struck him even more. He was still looking all over them, tracing their lines with his eyes. They looked so graceful and beautiful, particularly when they began to move. He found himself following them easily, their smooth footsteps and the swinging of their four arms and their constant breathing hypnotic to him. He lost track of his surroundings and the two began to head where there were more trees. They were just as neatly manicured, just greater in density and height. And then the Fsemacea stopped.
“Dheroratera dwells in the cavern. You will need to endure another hour before they begin to move for the day. Then, their associates will bring you into their presence when it is the proper time.”
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The Peninsula, Ch. 8
Please read Esknaskenya’s Log first, it’s directly related to the event in here but this chapter still makes sense without those details. Maybe it is actually best to read this first since you’ll understand the main character’s position a little better.
Frank talk of death, euthanasia, hopelessness, betrayal and general nastiness, and dehumanization of Fsemacea. There’s some awful dark stuff in here. It’s the Atochengra introduction after all. It’s not exactly a happy organization. Also an fyi: Mycidna is the general term for all creatures made by the Archer regardless of Atochengra affilitation.
And yes, this new MC should be reoccuring. I decided that it would be better to have a bit more direct coverage of Atochengra rather than cryptic interlude sections, though those will continue as needed for other characters.
Buckle up, at around 4k words this is one of the longer chapters.
Who am I? Why, I'm am Esknaseknya. Or rather, AN Esknaseknya. It's not that we're cloned like the Lbutra, it's just that the Banenhaxers name so many creatures this. Including, rather confusingly, one of the other folks here in Atochengra. Most just call us by our main colors to distinguish between us. I'm Black, she's Red.
Speaking of that Esknaseknya, presently I was headed to meet with Voxtre over something related to her. Wasn't sure what, though. I'm on good terms with both of the two, most of the Archer's creations, actually. Probably why Voxtre always seems to come to me for advice, I'm a good fairly neutral party in most affairs. I am also one of the older members of Atochengra in terms of age, many older than me either died or won't associate with us because their lives are so secure they could care less about the soulless threat breathing on our backs.
Truthfully, old age is the only thing I have to actually fear. My Far Spirit is a sorry one, and has not the budget for such expensive creatures as Fsemacea. Their other creatures are not much better than me, if not worse, even though I'm nearing 36 and will soon be approaching the end of my lifespan. With not much else left to strive and live for, I figure I may as well help my kind so they may live as comfortable a life as I have. Ha, a comfortable life under a Far Spirit as cheap as mine! Most others would laugh, but I'd take the lack of competition and minimal threat of death with a bit of neglect over constant anxiety while being pampered and adored by mobs of visitors like Red.
I wriggled my way out of my stark concrete tunnel. I liked to head back there each night when I went inactive so I could have my bearings when I awoke each morning. Not sure if it was something a Far Spirit placed or a human relic, but it didn't bother me. It was a secluded place to rest for the night and fine for what I demanded of it. Emerging, I could feel the bumps and ridges of the dry lakebed as I stood up and began to make my way across it and towards our main camp area. As much as our cause was hated, we tended to band together to avoid... altercations. The origin of the dead lake has always eluded me, though. The deep black coloration of the desert made the cracks in the ground nearly invisible, not that I particularly cared, they were too small for me to fall into. One of the spiral horners or a creature closer to human sized, perhaps, but my feet were much too large to fit more than a clawtip into the gaps. As I approached the edge and into our main territory wispy white shrubbery scratched at my ankles and the tall, dark rock monuments came into view.
It was always a little sad to look at the carvings that creeped up their sides. Many of them were left by creatures that I hadn't seen in years, or weren't even of this world anymore. There was something heartbreaking about seeing the neat, smooth engravings of the shorter, older creatures dissolve into the rough, quivering messes made by the largest and last of the Mycidna as I drew my gaze up the wall. I doubt either of the sculptors of the extremes were in Atochengra anymore. The tallest ones were dead. The oldest Mycidna wanted nothing to do with us. They largely lived lives like mine- lives of relative comfort and security in their classic status without the fear of replacement. Yet they had the gall to call me selfish and cruel for what I was doing to ensure the survival of my fellow creatures and save the world from the threat of true apathy and carelessness. I lost a lot of those old friends through my selflessness. I've also made new ones through Atochengra, but I can't deny that there's considerable different between those younger ones and I. They're a lot more rash and aggressive for certain.
I turned my gaze back to the broad path ahead. I had places to be, after all. The harsh rising sun was largely blocked by the waving curves of the rocks above me, their shadows further warped by the bulges and dips of the ground. The darkness of this area was what had attracted us to it. It combined with the cover of the rocks made it a fine hiding place. Albeit, a bit confusing to navigate at times. But I knew it well so I usually had little trouble.
Of course, life wouldn't let me be that morning. A familiar grey and red-orange form sprang into the corner of my vision. Or rather, I thought it would. It just slithered in sadly instead.
"Espythacerro, are you alright?"
In the dim light, it was difficult to tell which way his short, broad head was facing. But the telltale flailing of his tendrils made it clear he's turned.
"No, duh. Can't be cheerful when you get the announcement."
"What? You? You're a icon, and not even that old, they can't trash you yet!"
"Not me. It's Itactin. His Far Spirit's going to vanish at the end of the year and he's not expected to sell. I can't believe they're probably going to kill him off and spare their damn unreliable Lteiasecl just because she's younger."
"Pardon me, but who's Itactin?"
"Member and sibling of mine, just tends to hang in the farther reaches of the desert with the Roedetsi. I never see him much but knowing that me, Ithbegone, and Doseperad are the going to be the only ones left of out hurts and I wish I'd known him better when he was around."
"It always hurts to lose one of our kind, but if it's any reassurance, it's difficult to transfer larger creatures like your kind between Far Spirits in general and short of saving his Far Spirit, I don't think anything could even be done. Treasure your last days with him, and don't cry that he's gone- smile that he existed."
"May as well. I've meant to travel up there sometime anyways. Supposedly my design was inspired by a Roedetsi and I've always wanted to meet that guy. But with everyone dying off I'm needed around here. After all, I'm one of the fastest guys left."
"I hope you can work things out. I'm heading to meet Voxtre right now, I'll see if I can work anything out with him."
Espythacerro's face brightened a bit. He brushed a handful of tendrils out of his eyes.
"Thanks man."
I gave him a gentle smile back and continued on. Atochengra really was in a rough spot. It hadn't struck me until now how quiet things had become around here. The rocks around me had the scars of old dwellings in them, long abandoned by their old inhabitants. It was approaching the height of the day when most of the others were probably off amusing the visitors, but even then, it was odd how little activity I observed. A couple of spiral horners were throwing rocks at a crude carving of Voxtre. That was about the only motion around me besides the scuffling of my feet against the sand.
The place soon came into sight. It was a somewhat dilapidated house that he always described as "Victorian", with pale blue and orange paint, sunray and octagonal motifs, and several holes hacked in its sides by its previous inhabitant. He never even knew where the place originally came from, just that a creature named Threirapoc willed it to him before they passed on the year before he came to be. Much as I may enjoy my concrete tunnel, it really was a lovely house and he worked on patching what he could in his free time, though lately it had fallen back into decay. While he kept his usual clever, snarky persona up in public, I'd spoken with him enough to know he was feeling troubled himself. As time had past, he knew he was finally losing his relevance with his Far Spirit after nearly 30 years, and was facing the threat of replacement, most likely by a Fsemacea who couldn't care less if it existed or not. As I said before, I'd take my secure if subpar position over his anyday. That kind of quiet worry can truly tear you apart. Though lately he seemed more upbeat in private, constantly fussing over things like he used to rather than furiously pacing to distract himself from what the future may bring.
I paused before heading towards the entrance. The other Esknaseknya was approaching. She crept forwards on stiltlike legs in long strides like a thin branch blown in the wind, lightly grasping the top of the door frame as she dipped under it to fit inside. I slowly followed her in, grateful that my dark coloration blended in with the sand. The hall was low, narrow, and largely windowless, relying on the natural light that shown in through the front entrance and the gaps in the walls. Voxtre had salvaged some human wall hangings and they hung off-kilter along the passage, along with some crude drawings of his own. It bent at hard angles into a few hairpin turns and up a a creaking staircase into a small room.
I stumbled back in surprise as I saw him grasping two coathangers, with the other Esknaseknya lying on the floor, her limbs braided together.
"Oh, hello Black. Boy, won't it be confusing to try to talk to both you and Red at once? But the matters are important. And sorry I had to do this to you Red, but what I'm going to discuss is mutually beneficial for both of us and I doubt there's any other way I could keep you in place to hear me out considering.... what has transpired previously."
"Voxtre, what the fuck? First you steal my stuff, then you tie me up like this?"
I swallowed nervously, my eyes wide with a flopped attempt at innocence, trying to maintain my neutrality.
"That's.. awful excessive, don't you think? But perhaps we should go out to the porch to talk where things aren't so crowded?"
"Yes. That's where I had planned to go to begin with. Help me get her down the stairs?"
I shrugged, gave her a pained look and carried her down the stairs with Voxtre, emptying out onto a large covered porch.
"Here, sit down you two."
I tried to arrange her as neatly as possible in front of a very small table, just barely up to my knees. Voxtre sat down on the other side of it.
"We know well what happened. I can't deny, I feel bad about how rash and rude I was about it. But Red, how could you keep something so important so secret? You found a damn silver bullet for our problems! But all you'll use it for is to get your brothers back? You're keeping it secret because hat's all you're going to use it for?"
"Yes. I wanted to be left in peace with my siblings and not bring that freak Myrise back, or any of the other degenerate designs you seem so attached to."
"Look, I don't care that much for Myrise as an individual either, but there's no denying that it's a very emotional figure for the others and very symbolic of our group as whole. Good way to get ourselves some allies and bring us together like we used to be."
"Knowing you, you'll just use it for your own goals and conveniently forget about mine."
I watched them wordlessly. Red was clearly enraged, but Voxtre a maintained a strangely calm face.
"Look Esknaseknya, I don't understand why you think I'm such a monster. I wouldn't do the things I've had to do lately if you'd just comply and think about others besides yourself. I miss Rarmesce and Eshkroc too. I miss all the others that are gone, even if I don't show it so obviously. I've been awfully harsh on you on this matter, yes, but it's because I get so aggravated by your defiance."
"Why do I think you're a monster? Look at what you did to my arms and legs just to get me to talk! And how you nabbed my findings?"
"Nadonaca alerted me to them and I did what I had to for the good of us all. I would have done so to literally anyone else, I do not hate you specifically. Let's drop that whole point. If you're willing to stay put and hear me out and not just run off, I'll untie you. I'll cooperate with you if you'll cooperate with me. Just forget all that's happened, for the good of us all. I know I screwed up and yadda yadda I know there's emotional stuff to deal with but the fate of our kind is more important than feelings."
"You're not making any sense. Fine. I'll stay. I'll listen. Unbend me."
He passed both coathangers to me to untie her limbs with. I'd done similar so many times it didn't phase me that our bones or whatever we had for an inner skeleton bent like wire, unlike the others'. That was the original purpose of the coathangers, after all. To bend our limbs into position as needed. Though they've become better know for their use in snapping those that can't bend. When I finished she was a bit more kinked than before, but was otherwise no worse for wear.
Voxtre cleared his throat.
"So, Red. You've found how to reassemble the shattered souls of the recycled and speak to them. You've found how to plant a soul into a body. But surely you haven't got the resources or ability to actually procure a body for them and truly have them back, do you? You'd understand why Far Spirits shy from larger creatures when you see how much cost and work goes into acquiring and maintaining one. You and your siblings are damn near the biggest things the Archer ever made besides Omenismid and Espythacerro and his pals, and caring for one, let alone two somethings like that is not a task for a single creature who doesn't know what they're doing."
Her face was dour and glaring. Though it seemed to loosen as she came to some sort of realization.
"Well, yes. I suppose I would need that as well."
"So why don't we work on this together? I've been prying into that side of things a while in hopes of snatching up one of out kind, but they've never come up for sale. Got a sizeable hunk of money too. Those visiting spirits will dispense unreasonable amounts of it for just my shed feathers and I've also been selling off the crap they sometimes drop or leave behind as well. It's certainly not a lot, but it'll be enough to maybe start us off even if we have to... make compromises. And even then, if this whole things works out surely the others could join me in my money-making endeavors and just make things quicker and easier. Not to mention how we'd surely get some sort of visitors as well."
She went silent.
"I don't want to be rash. Give me a day or two to think about it."
"What is there to think about? Neither of us are going to get what we want easily or quickly or even before we die ourselves unless we join forces."
"I can't trust you, and while I'd rather not wait I'd take a longer research time over dealing with you."
"That's fair. That's understandable. I was a real idiot and more or less just told you my general plans, but I also have your notebook so I'd say we're about even in terms of what we know about each other."
He waved, then made a slight shooing motion towards her and flicked an eye towards me.
"Well. Not quite sure what I was thinking back there, Black. Damn, I'm a mess. What the hell's going on with my head? That wasn't exactly the conclusion I wanted and the bit I needed you for never really came up, but I appreciate your neutral presence, Black. Even if I lose myself you help keep me at least little grounded."
"Pardon, but what did you summon me here for?"
"Ah, well you heard what I was discussing with Red. She's been looking into how to talk to and maybe raise the dead, and I've been looking into how to take care of other creatures as if I were a Far Spirit. Just so happened, what we know clicks nicely in place. I've got an idea of how to procure the bodies and care for them, and she know how to bring those souls back. And like I mentioned, it's Myrise that's coming first. Sure, nobody in their right mind actually wants them back, but damn if everyone doesn't feel awful for how they died so young and like I said, that give others more faith in us. Might even be able to get the Nepspra in on the operation, they're out cousins and in a similar position, after all."
"Understandable. Where do I come into this?"
"You're the calm, reliable, type. I was hoping I could get you to help in sustaining Myrise and the others we raise. I don't trust Red to do it, we've never really gotten along and she sure isn't helping things and I don't want to turn my back on her and have her sabotage it all. Not to mention that cool consistency is exactly what such a position demands. You're also a good mediator between the two of us and your authority as a pleasant, rational fellow should help convince the others to comply, with how little they think of me anymore."
I smiled and nodded. His heavy lids relaxed a bit and his usual forced sly grin sank into a gentler, more genuine one.
"I'm glad that you're so compliant, Black. I wish everyone could be like you. Consistent, calm, rational, willing to hear others out instead of lashing out immediately. Almost wish I could be that way myself but I'm afraid I'm just a heartless bloke by nature and everyone knows it."
"You're not heartless. You're awfully rash and have certainly done some questionable things but you do seem to care at least a little about the rest of Atochengra. You're not even the worst leader out there, we all know how Naeaphid is and Dheroratera's something far more sinister than merely thoughtless- they preach that thoughtlessness is the ideal way and leave any creature who isn't thoughtless to fend for themselves. I'd call you more... utilitarian. You told me about how you read about that one time in one of those human books you scavenged. You may do awful things to achieve it, but you certainly seem to care about maximizing the happiness of others at whatever cost, even at what you did prior to this meeting."
"I suppose."
Voxtre went quiet. His face settled into his hard neutral expression and he blinked a bit too prominently and slowly as he seemed lost in thought about something.
"You want to talk about something, Voxtre?"
"I can't help but feel conflicted about what I did to Red to get that information. Never liked her, probably never will with how stubborn and selfish she is. I can't feel too bad about it because she's a selfish piece of shit and sharing her research would benefit so many more creatures than just her siblings. It could bring back damn near anyone who didn't live a full life. It'll be a way to calm all the guilt in my life from the creatures I've outlived and seen go before their times. But what I did was still pretty extreme and doesn't sit quite right with me. But like you said, I'm guess I'm utilitarian. Imagine how many creatures it could help while only hurting that one bitch's feelings."
"Who exactly do you miss?"
"Threirapoc, for one. Never knew them but they never really got to live a real life from what I've heard. Like the other hangers they swung themself to bits, but unlike the others, they only lasted a few years before more or less falling apart. They'd be tough to bring back, though. I don't know much about designing and their original design was.. very very flawed and it would just be cruel to make them live through that again. Another who's not one of us but just as tragic would have to be Vitabre. I never knew him, but hearing about how he was going to be the best new thing one year and that he was falling apart the next hurt me. Reportedly it was construction issues and remaking him could be possible, but goddamn would it be challenge. He was massive. And a Woodlander. Caring for something like that would be even worse. I suppose someone better to start with would that fellow that went down with that Far Spirit that Tdearerce dissolved several years. All because their spirit was too close to Tdaererce themself and sucking away their business. That was too close for me. Had their spirit had the money at the time, damn, maybe I would have been made for them and been brought down like that. Really though, I'd take near anyone back. Bring the world back to how it was in the good days when the Archer was constantly making new and exciting things and life was advancing, unlike now with the Dragons spewing the same blandness for close to three decades now. When creatures embodied the wildness and unpredictability that the Woodlanders of the golden age had."
"I see. I suppose I understand as well. My Far Spirit once owned some rather small creatures not even of our general kind, and they were well-loved until the end when they became so old and their creator so distant from what they had once been that they had to euthanize them despite how loved they were. And I found myself wishing I could have kept them going. You can't end a creature's life, no matter how small, without at least a little heartbreak among the spirits that loved them. But may I add a suggestion to your list? Itactin's likely to die soon and while they may not have shown their face much around here, I'm sure they'd be willing to lend their savior the power of their speed."
"Ah, yes. Itactin's rather distant from us but my brief encounters with him have been good. I could definitely consider him."
"And perhaps you could give Espythacerro a little time off to see him?"
"Of course. Of course."
"Well, I suppose our business is through here until you get a reply from Red. I can only hope whatever happens is for the best."
"It will. If she won't comply I'll find someone else and figure out what I can from her writings."
I nodded, and stepped off the stoop and back into the dark sand. Looking back, I saw the grooves carved in the roof of the porch where Threirapoc must have attached the planks or bars they once swung from.
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Text
Esknaseknya’s Log
A log of some sort of experimentation (albeit not terribly scientific) being done by a certain tall red Atochengran.
Nothing really to warn about in here. Just some ghostly bits.
Log of Esknaseknya
----
I have felt a presence around my brother's old grave and particularly his old coathanger. I will investigate further.
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(Date 1) Materials: Coathanger alone
Procedure: Removed wire from grave, waved around in air while standing on grave. Attempted circles, squares, then triangles. Tried alternating between shapes in all possible combinations.
Results- Nothing
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I need a bait to attract him
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(Date 2): Materials- Coathanger, desert rock
Procedure- Wound coathanger around rock from 1 to 5 times, waved wire end in patterns from before.
Results- Arms tired.
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I found a hard black thing known as a "magnet" that seemed to draw in my own wire when I prodded it. I shall try that instead.
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(Date 3) Materials: Coathanger, small magnet stolen from Voxtre’s hoard.
Procedure: Same as Previous
Results: Felt a slight presence. Maybe just breeze. Little difference between waving patterns, but stopped when still. Arms not tired.
-----------------
(Date 4) Materials: Coathanger, larger magnet found in pile of refuse from old inhabitants.
Procedure: Same as previous. Five wraps
Results: Intense presence. Had feeling of someone behind me. Strongest when draw triangle-square pattern. Wrap pattern no difference.
-----------------
I need to repeat to make sure that wasn't a fluke.
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(Date 5) Materials: Coathanger, another larger battery pulled from an old box in a refuse pile
Procedure: Same as before
(Indecipherable squiggles)
Results: Feeling of someone breathing on my neck. Hit self on head with tip of wire and can’t remember what happened afterwards. Unsure where scribbles came from.
-------------------
(Date 6):
Materials: Same as previous
Procedure: Same as previous, avoided touching tip of wire.
Results: Same presence as fourth entry, nothing else.
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(Date 7)
Materials: Same as previous
Procedure: Same a previous date, repeating to observe presence further
Results: Same presence as previously. Nadonaca walked in from nowhere and startled me, accidently swatted him on head with tip as result. Said “What the fuck happened?” with unusual but familiar speech pattern, before clapping hands over his mouth and showing shock. Looked me straight in the eye, shouted “I want to talk, need transmission!!” before Nadonaca went wide-eyed and bent over gasping, seemingly confused by what happened.
-------------------
Oh, hello journal I've been quiet a while. Voxtre told me about how the Humans used to chat through cans attached to strings. He's seen a bit too interested in what I'm up to but the suggestion was definitely helpful. Time to try it.
------------------
(Date 8)
Materials: Same as previous, thread tied to magnet and through a salvaged old human can.
Procedure: Waved wire and magnet as before, lifted can to ear as presence came around. Had a long talk with brother.
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(Date 9)
Have had several talks with brother so far. Updating each other on our lives and deaths as recorded in other book. Today asked about what attracts spirits like him (indecipherable, text scratched out and furiously scribbled through)
-----------------
(Date 10)
Talked to brother again. We talked about what he did to me and Nadonaca. He said he can possess living bodies by (indecipherable, scratched out with scribbling)
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(Date 11)
Talked to brother again.
-----------------
(Rest of page ripped off)
(Date 14)
Talked to brother again. Voxtre walked in. Thanked me for what I had uncovered. Fuck you I hope your memory fails. Destroyed what brother told me and told him not to indulge Voxy in his stupid plans It’ll only delay his return. Fuck you Nadonaca for turning me in what the hell I thought you were a neutral party in this shit I swear green and red creatures only bring trouble.
-----------------
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