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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Many-Database1292 on 2024-11-03 05:43:34+00:00.

The year was 3377 when the signal was detected, until that moment we still thought we were alone. All across the Sol system our radios screeched to life emitting a piercing rhythmic sound. The Sol systems greatest eggheads were on the case right away, It didn't take long to figure out the signal was coming from deep in intergalactic space, and that we weren't going to enjoy drive time radio for a while. Every Head of State in the United Coalition of Interplanetary Nations waited with bated breath to see it what it could mean. It's the turn of the millennium now, y4k, and we still haven't learned a damn thing.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I can hear it, the signal, every second I can hear it drilling into my brain. I wasn't around back in '77, it only started a few months ago, I think. It was real distracting at first, I really hated the noise. But soon, after I got used to it, I started Listening. I thought, if I pay close attention, maybe something will click. Maybe, I can figure out what it's trying to tell us.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I know it's stupid. All the smartest pencil pushers on all our worlds has been wracking their brains over this for decades. How is an uneducated daydreamer like me supposed to solve what they can't. I don't know, I just...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK "WAKE THE HELL UP"

There's someone outside my pod.

"Did that neural plug of yours fry your brain? We've reached the target, get your ass out here Cole!" Her speech is nearly too fast for me to follow, and its dripping with impatience. I take a deep breath and muster all of my will to press a single button on my wall, and the habitat pod hisses open.

"Good morning Nor-" "Don't you 'Good Morning' Me" She interrupted "We have been idling in position next to this asteroid for THIRTY minutes, if we run out of fuel and get stranded out here I will KILL YOU. Get to your station, yesterday."

"Right, sorry..." Is the most I'm able to say before Nora has stormed off back to the cockpit. I start my march to the control chair.

The echoed clanging of my boots against the grated metal floor almost drowns out the signal ringing in my skull as I go into the depths of our ship. Nora was mad, rightly so I think. It didn't feel like 30 minutes had passed though. Still, she's the best pilot I've worked with and we have a job to do here. An interstellar object no larger than a man is on a collision course with a research station orbiting Neptune. Naturally, the two of us were hired to take our Zariman Class Freighter all the way out to the edge of the solar gravity well to intercept it. It seems fishy, Doesn't it? That damn signal is so. Loud. Maybe this is... no that's stupid.

"-le, Cole. What are you standing around for, Jack in already." Nora's voice crackles over the intercom.

Oh, I'm already here. I sit down on the uncomfortable steel chair and a moment later I feel the familiar thud of the neural plug, and in an instant I am the ship. I take a second so stretch my awareness and settle into my role. I'm moving parallel to the asteroid, perfectly positioned. The freighter's right manipulator arm gently reaches toward the rock as I run a scan of it's makeup. That's, odd.

I blurt out "What is this thing?"

"It's a rock" Nora says harshly

"No it's weird, nothings coming up on the scanner."

"Ohhh it must be a ghost rock."

"Be serious! what if whatever this is is dangerous to bring on board."

"Or, your crappy old ship's crappy old scanner is broken and its a normal ass rock."

She had a good point.

When my manipulator grasped the asteroid I felt a jolt of electricity through my whole being, coursing into all of my ship systems then through the neural plug into my brain stem. And suddenly It's quiet, I cant hear the signal anymore. What. Is this? I compose myself and pull the asteroid into the right cargo bay, before unhooking the neural plug. I breathe a deep sigh of relief being back in human form. I still can't hear it.

"Nora, I'm going to check it out" and I start moving to the right cargo bay.

"Have fun poking a rock scaredy cat."

What happened back there? something big Could that have been real? Why has the signal stopped? Is the asteroid related to the signal? my mind is racing trying to make sense of what's going on when I reach the cargo bay. I open the door, ass I enter I see it. From the door it almost looks like a sarcophagus but as I come closer I see it for what it really is, an 8 foot long asteroid. Its unmistakable pocked stone exterior leaving no question. This is a normal asteroid, right? I'm walking closer, I reach out and I touch it. It feels warm.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Akmedrah on 2024-11-03 05:37:42+00:00.

PART 27 <==H==> | PART 1

Will was flying back to the village, dragging a bound and gagged Viltar with him. He felt a panic setting into his very soul. He brought the hammer of his will to power down on the feelings.

"Calm down. Remember what dad used to say. Slow is Smooth, Smooth is fast." Will spoke quickly to himself as he took a long breath, touching down onto the central gathering area in the walls. He tossed Viltar to a couple of guards. "If he so much as wiggles his fingers, beat him until his joints no longer work."

The Guards looking shocked but saluted and Will stormed off to find Paratha and Genduri. The two were sitting in the home they had been given by Illicia. Will knocked, and was promptly let in.

"Will, I... Thank you." Genduri said rubbing his hand on the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It is no problem," Will said, with a quick smile, then his face became serious, "I need your help to contact the King, My grandparents, and to track a teleportation spell."

The tone of his voice told them everything they needed to know. They both nodded and set to work. The King immediately set about having his court wizards do what tracking they could. Will called in every favor he had with his Grandparents and anyone else they could reach out to in the Gob'Ran and surrounding areas; with that, there were hundreds of methods of tracking being applied.

While he waited to hear from his grandparents or the King, Will flew Genduri and Paratha to the location of Illicia's departure. Neither of them were spatial magi, but where Will achieved things through a sheer unbridled overpowering force of magic, both Genduri and Paratha dealt with nuance, their spells requiring great control and focus. Will hoped it was enough to get a feel for where Illicia had been taken to.

Will found himself ranting in his mind once more and shook his head before muttering, "Calm down, Will, and don't stop fighting Illicia."

[Illicia]

Thwack "Gods Damn it!" bellowed Tipless; this was the 3rd time she had gotten a solid hit in on one of his joints. Illicia kept a small smile to herself. When she had come to after being knocked out, she had not recognized where she was, but she had decided that even if Will was not on the way to save her, of which she had no doubt, keeping her hostage would not be something that was worthwhile for the two idiots who had taken her.

"Stay the fuck away from her." Limper said, "I don't need to be left in her daddy's kingdom all alone."

"you think that Viltar is going to follow?" Tipless asked after a few moments of silence.

Limper shrugged, "I have no idea, whoever the hell that was fighting Viltar, it didn't seem like a fair fight. Viltar is a monster when it comes to magic. I'm sure that he won out."

Illicia smiled silently to herself as she imagined how outclassed Viltar was. If Will's physical abilities were anything to go by, she was sure that there were maybe one or two other mortals who could even come close. She thought this to herself as Tipless walked towards the window near her once more. With a self satisfied grin, Illicia wound up and kicked him in the side of his knee as hard as she could.

"Gods damn you, woman!" He bellowed as he jumped away on one leg.

[Will]

Will was waiting patiently. It was all he could do as magical investigation was about as far outside his wheelhouse as you could get. Suddenly, a scroll appeared from a burst of magical fire, dropping onto the ground next to him.

In his grandmothers flowing hand, a list of tasks that had been accomplished in the efforts to find Illicia were there, a note in the brutish hand of his grandfather reminded him to focus only on what he could do and to let others help him.

Will was grateful for the help they had agreed to provide and slightly shocked at the number of things his grandmother listed as having been done already. He was trying to remember the correct incantations to respond to their message when Paratha called him over.

Will walked quickly to the two who were standing next to a chalk circle they had drawn to try and divine the destination of the teleportation spell that had taken Illicia.

"What did you find?" Will asked.

"This room looks like it sees a lot of teleportation magic, but it all seems to send and receive to the same place," Genduri said, his eyes glazed in magic as he looked at something only he could see.

"So does that mean that you can tell where they took her?" Will could not stop the faint tones of hope from creeping into his voice.

Paratha flinched slightly, "No, the distance that they traveled still lends a certain level of obscuration, but we can tell you one thing. She is back on the continent. Most likely within the Kolt Kingdom."

"So I need to go home." Will said, turning to head to entrance of Viltar's manor.

Paratha and Genduri rose to follow him. Paratha was doing her best to try to soothe what she thought was frustration in Will's voice. "If we hurry back and get a ship ready, as long as they haven't all left, you should be back in the Kingdom in no time. I have heard that the return trip is faster than the trip here, something like a month."

Will shook his head, "too long, I have to find another way."

"What other way?" Paratha asked, confused.

"I think we should go find a woods spirit, or if either of you have any divine favors you want to call in." Will missed the looks of consternation that he got at the casual mention of divine favors.

"A woods spirit it is," Genduri said, pulling a stick from the weeds just outside the gate that marked the edge of the manor grounds. "Mind telling me why it is that I am now looiking for a woods spirit?"

"Well I fgure that one of two things, happen." Will said stepping back to let Genduri lead the way with his now mana imbued stick, "Either they can point us to the nearest elf stones, and I can get home that way."

"Not a bad option," Paratha said, falling in next to Will as they followed Genduri.

"Right, that's the best option." Will said, then his face seemed to cloud somewhat, "But in the worst case, a woods spirit would be able to lead me to the nearest fae, and I could make a deal."

Genduri and Paratha stopped and stared at Will, wondering just what kind of trouble they were going to get themselves mixed up in.

PART 27 <==H==> | PART 1

FROM THE AUTHOR: Here it is, Part 28! I hope you all enjoy it and Have A Fantastic Day! Remember from now until the end of the story every week I will post one chapter of TPM!

If You love the story please Review on Royal Road!

If you want to read my other stories or if you want more information about the world and my other writing, check out these places!

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/LukeWasNotHere on 2024-11-03 04:08:47+00:00.

I used to find the trope of two people waking up in the same bed, surprised or screaming at each other, with no memory of how they even got into the situation in the first place, while hilarious, quite unrealistic. Notice the use of past tense. I awoke blinded by my eye boogers, comfortably in my own bed, I made the mistake of turning to my left.

“Gah!” Was all I got out before I started to fall, though in mid air I did grab my revolver off the nightstand. 

“What the Hell are you doing here, Himbo!” Scout was too tired to scream, and she also fell off my bed. 

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I live here! What are you doing in my bed?!” I got off the ground and pointed at her. 

“I don’t know! Oh Gods… I don’t know.” She looked at me in horror and patted down her clothes, to make sure she still had them on. I looked down too, and saw I was still wearing my jeans and sweater. “God, I’m sore.” She grabbed her butt. “Okay, I’m still wearing my clothes, so that’s good. I normally sleep naked so we both must have had a good reason to be so tired.” Scout finished. 

“Ew. You're one of those naked sleepers.” I backed away from her. “What are you gonna do if your apartment burns down or something?” I asked. 

“What do you mean, what am I going  to do? Run outside naked and live! Also my apartment probably won’t burn down anytime soon because I don’t live over a freaking bar!” Scout's whole body gestured at the ground.

“Whatever, that’s not important right now.” I looked out the window and saw it was light out. “Okay, it’s the next day so it must have happened yesterday-” I was interrupted by cheers. I looked back outside and saw a crowd of adoring people, cheering and waving outside the bar/my studio apartment. “That can’t be good.” I closed the blinds. 

“Wait,” Scout ran over to my door and grabbed the newspaper. “Victory Press.” She gasped and showed the front picture. 

“That really can’t be good.” I stared in mounting horror at the candid photo of two people with guns, masks and a general trouble making disposition. Thankfully it was only one photo and was low quality enough (barely) that with enough talking I could convince people that it wasn’t us, and just two very good looking, and completely different people. Speaking of which, if you're a journalist reading this, you can’t prove it was us, it’s just very much implied. 

“‘Two masked rogues robbed a Scrarcan family estate!’” Scout read the headline. “We robbed my own family?!” She was finally awake enough to yell. “‘Early last night two masked people robbed a mansion turned museum owned by the Scrarcan family. Though the dozens of guards all tried to thwart the robbery, most were incapacitated but still uninjured with taser rounds.’” Scout sighed at the last two words. 

I looked down at my gun, I checked each of the six cylinders. All but one had an empty case of my taser rounds. “Okay, so we were so tired that I didn’t even bother to reload my gun and we both just collapsed in bed together. Okay, just keep reading and I’ll look around for clues.” I started at the door. I noticed how both our shoes were flung all over the place along with mud prints. 

“‘The two masked people broke in at around midnight, after picking the highly secure backdoor. Though it was picked, it was done so by someone so skilled it left no marks, the detectives investigating the case theorize it could have been a key, and therefore an inside job.’ Oh no, you definitely picked that lock.” Scout said. 

I followed our steps, I saw Scout’s coat on the floor near the bathroom. I opened the door and was met by a bloody scene. The first aid kit I had in the bathroom was on the floor, along with blood all over the sink and toilet. I saw a needle and sanitizing liquid out. 

“Uh, Scout.” I tried to speak calmly. 

“In a minute, I’m still reading the thing. ‘During the initial break in there was a small firefight between the guards and the two intruders, some guards claimed to have hit one.’” Scout read, paused and realized. “Turn around.” Scout started taking off her pants, I whipped around. “I got shot in the ass!” She half sighed, half yelled. 

“Yeah, and I don’t think I need to turn around in the first place.” I stared at one of my bookshelves.

“What?” Scout fired back, annoyed.

“I think I already saw your butt.”

“What!” She said again, this time not a question.

“Does it have stitches and much more importantly, do you even know how to sew a wound?” I asked. 

“Oh.” Scout replied as awkwardly as you imagined. “My pants are back on now.” She added quietly. 

“Just keep reading. If we robbed a place, why are people outside my house cheering?” I turned around and continued my hunt for clues. I walked over to my kitchen table. I saw a map of the museum, with hastily scribbled notes on it, and circles on different artifacts. 

“‘After the firefight the two robbers went around the museum, stealing different objects, mostly paintings, gold, and small items used for religious purposes in old Link cultures.’ Damn it, I’m stealing from my own people, too!” Scout whipped her tail in annoyance. “‘During this time it is thought that the robbers destroyed the security cam footage.’” 

I finally finished my walk in last night's steps and sat next to Scout still reading on my bed. “Okay, the picture had more pixels than sand on a beach, you're still rich, I’m still me, so I’m sure we can convince people that it wasn’t us who robbed your family. But, why are there people outside my house celebrating?” I facepalmed. 

“I’m almost done, hold on. ‘Controversially, some are calling the robbers heroes. Due to past criticism of the Scrarcan’s family purchases of Link artifacts not belonging to their own culture.’” Scout groaned. “I hate that my family buys all the crap, it should belong to their own people’s museums.” 

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t see me and continued reading.

“‘Some believe that it was best the two robbers stole it in the first place, as when they left the museum they actually left the artifacts by community centers and churches of the peoples and cultures they were actually made by. Returning it back to them. They gave the stolen gold to anyone walking near them, and donation boxes. They were last seen near a bar downtown.’” Scout finished reading. “Ohhh.” She threw the newspaper on the ground. 

“I knew it was your fault.” I laughed. “Hey look on the brightside, we’re Robin Hood.”

Author’s Note: Only two more days and I’ll be free. Also, a commenter mentioned in a past story about Theseus and Scout robbing her parents blind, I don’t remember who said it, this is based loosely on it, and thank you very much to that person. 

Vaguely important second note: This isn’t a series, though it could be debated. It’s an idiotic writing challenge I made up one night and keep almost failing. Writing a one shot everyday for thirty days. I write these like an episodic T.V. show, the two main characters are the same, sometimes there are two part episodes but it’s meant to be enjoyed on its own. The fact it can be read in order is a bonus afterthought. Context is overrated anyways.

Thanks for reading. :}

28/30 Days

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/EchoingCascade on 2024-11-03 03:24:52+00:00.

one-shot

Gorimas was an Arthurian security officer aboard station 234, the station had been chosen to be the site of first contact between his people and the newly found Deathworlders known as Humans.

They look so soft and weak. He watched a Terran diplomat walk by, he was a foot shorter than him, no scales, no claws, no fangs, anyone would assume them defenseless. That is unless you know about their planet's gravity, my claws would only manage surface wounds at best and any one of them could crush my bones with an over enthusiastic hug.

Gorimas had many conversations with the members of the Human delegation, it was his job as security officer to get to know the dangerous aliens in his station but one particular Human had eluded all attempts at socializing: Specialist Stephanie Stine. The woman was a kind soul, helped others, listened to their plights, recommend solutions and even helped when she could. And yet, the other Humans seem to distrust her for some reason.

He'd studied her routine on the station during these last few weeks and at this hour she would be in her quarters, preparing to eat a meal. I'll drop by with a bottle of fruit juice, if there is one thing I know is that Humans get chatty while eating.

*****

She had welcomed him with her usual friendly demeanor but until he had produced a letter of permission from Captain Ross, the Human head of security, she had politely refused to let him inside. They were eating a simple meal of grilled meat with a side of vegetables with the fruit juice he had brought, well she was, as a strict carnivore Gorimas was only eating the meat, not that he was doing much eating... From the moment he had entered the room he had noted something odd, something that shouldn't be the case after months of living in this place. There is nothing that looks “her's”, nothing personal, nothing is out of place either, everything is clean, too clean and then there's how she eats. He looked at her plate, how she cut her steak into a perfect square, put a couple of vegetable on it with her knife, dabbed the meat to absorb the juices, put it in her mouth and chewed it seven times on both side of her mouth before swallowing.

She caught him staring, tilted her head and smiled in a clear show of confusion. “Is something the matter? You have barely touched your steak, I made sure not to use any spices that would be problematic to your digestive system.”

“No it's just... Are you an AI?” The question had escaped his mouth before his mind had time to catch it. I mean it would explain so much, why the Humans seem to distrust her, why everything she does is so methodical, why her uniform is black while all others is green, even her overly friendly behavior makes sense if she's programmed to help “real people”, Hells it makes sense why every team he had seen always had at least one member all in black, having an AI in a team would be an invaluable asset.

She responded with a shake of her head and an amused smile. “I'm afraid not, I'm just a normal Human, well a Human in any case.” She ate another morsel before before putting her knife and fork to side and she swirled the juice in her glass before taking a sip.

Gorimas threw caution to the wind and pushed forward. “I don't understand, could you explain what you mean?”

She smiled again but this time something seemed of. “Let me give you an example to illustrate what I am. Let's say some doomsday cult had hidden a deadly virus inside the bone marrow of a young child...” As she started to speak she began to cut what remained of her steak, it was no longer in neat little squares but in a far too big to chew jagged affair before she continued.”A medic would ask for consent from the child's guardians before taking a sample, facilities to complete the procedure safely and would ensure the survival of the subject, me?” She stabbed the chunk of the badly cut steak in her plate and ripped a bite out of it with her teeth. “Me I would ask for nothing more than a knife.”

Gorimas felt the room temperature drop by several degrees and wanted to speak but words failed him.

“I have no empathy, I lack that little voice in the back of your head that says this is wrong, if it wasn't for the conditioning at the academy I would probably be in prison right now or worse, I would be free.” She smiled at him again and he saw what was wrong, he finally saw what had made him think she was a machine.

Her smiles never reach her eyes, none of the emotions she fakes ever reach her eyes, they are as cold and empty as the void... A small buzzing sound brought him out of his reverie and made him jump. “... What was that?”

She either didn't hear or was ignoring him as she continued. “Every team as one of us in it, someone who would carry the captain's orders no matter how grotesque or immoral, space is a dangerous place and even we have our uses, after all we only ever harm others if ordered to do so.”

Gorimas felt relieved and got up from his chair. “Great talking to you, gotta go, bye!” He tried to open the door but nothing happened.

“Captain Ross' orders were very clear, I am not allowed to be alone with anyone in my quarters...”

Gorimas didn't know when but she had gotten up from the table, grabbed his steak knife and was standing right behind him. She continued to speak in his ear.

“Unless they have his written permission that is, you see we know someone was spying on us for other factions and if a spy was found they would be allowed to meet the real me... You said you wanted us to get to know each other better? By the time this night ends, I'll know you better than you know yourself...”

End.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/kayenano on 2024-11-03 03:16:11+00:00.

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Synopsis:

Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.

Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.

Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.

Chapter 307: Early Dawn

I stepped back.

And then I stepped back again. 

Again and again, I sought to retreat until I’d found a path leading me to the sanctuary that was my kingdom. Or if not that, a patisserie which I’ve never once visited but where I can still ask for the usual and be served exactly what I wished. I wasn’t picky. 

Sadly, it was to no avail.

Despite taking as many as three and a half steps back, Ouzelia and its many horrors remained firmly in my sight. And currently, they were all the same thing. 

A foe I never expected.

For even in my worst nightmares regarding this land of oddballs, I could never have predicted to meet an adversary so far beyond my ability to comprehend.

Yes.

It was this ...

“Heheh heh heh … hahahah hahahahah!”

A foe I’d already defeated before!

My knees quivered as my hands alternated between covering my mouth and my eyes. 

I could have worn a blanket over my face. It wouldn’t have been enough to hide the gall I was feeling, nor the horror I was currently seeing.

Such... Such shamelessness!

There was disregard to common decency! And then there was this! 

Tactlessness beyond even what a knight left unsupervised by a wary father for 5 minutes in the countryside could do! As a gentle princess with a heavily armed battleship to my name, such a flagrant insult to decorum was beyond my ability to fathom!

Pwooooosh.

Indeed!

As a ball of molten fury hurled, no, spat disgustingly past my shoulder, I could not even spare a glance at the explosion of parchment behind me. As the embers rushed past the archway and tickled my back, all I saw was the maddened glint of impropriety coming from a wyvern head’s eyes.

I was horrified.

“I see you've learned how to tremble. A sight as sweet as the justice to come. Know that while I am quelled, I am undefeated. Even in hardship and strife, I persevere. A living talisman to the tenacity of elvenkind, I remain the greatest wordswordswordswords …”

And then … I saw the truth of it.

Perhaps another princess would have fainted at the wanton lack of shame. But beyond the boasts which failed to enter my ears, I knew that not even the greatest of weeds could survive if so withered and broken as this fallen schemer was. 

Not unless it was permitted to by the newly sprouting vines around it.

“How … How dare you!” I said to the clockwork librarian. She smiled as she practically held up her hostage, no differently than a puppeteer in a circus. “To use a foe I’ve already defeated is both callous and cruel! This nameless commoner with no distinguishable characteristics clearly lacks the minimum requirements to be a recurring villain, yet you force him out of his corner of shame for his pride to be trampled once again!”

“Nameless commoner! I am Eucion of the Stars, and I will–”

“You will do as you’re told,” interrupted Fluer, her tone less sweet than her smile. “And that is to breathe fire. Now.”

The wyvern head said nothing.

Instead, the golden eyes narrowed for a moment, before its maw obediently widened to a hint of flames.

I was aghast.

“Wha– I thought you were merely stepping on him! But to have trained this peasant into being a jester’s flaming brand is to stuff him beneath the carpet first! His pride cannot even be seen!”

“This is simply an agreement! One I would have done freely if I knew vengeance would come so swiftly!”

I couldn't arrange my face to appear appalled enough. Lacking wrinkles or blemishes, there was only so much I could do.

“Look at this!” I said, gesturing towards the pitiable sight. “The commoner is so bereft of wits he believes an agreement with someone in the middle of kidnapping their own employer holds any merit! How could you possibly derive satisfaction from someone so hapless he could not even be trusted to spill wine over the correct dignitary’s lap?”

The wyvern head shook with indignation. And yet with all the guile of a baron at court realising his very first betrayal, he slowly tilted himself towards his conjurer.

The librarian raised a brow.

“Could you please not overtly attempt to distract my portable flame apparatus? I've been told you are wholly responsible for his current predicament. It’s outrageous to try to claim gall on his behalf.”

“I am only responsible for guiding the commoner onto the path of humility. Why, it is an utter scandal that my hard work is at threat of being undone so carelessly!”

“Please. You did nothing. I was the one who had to process him. I had to invent an entire category for archdruids dispossessed of a body. And then I had to arbitrate between all the different departments who wanted him. My ears are still ringing from the complaints when I opted to study him myself.”

“I ... I feel like I'm being spoken about while also ignored.”

“What are you studying? Ways for him to degrade himself lower than he already is? Frankly, you’ve already outdone yourself. He no longer qualifies as even a wyvern, but a sub-wyvern.”

“There is no such thing as a sub-wyvern.”

“A sub-wyvern is one whose sense of worth can only reduce once he is inevitably betrayed. How will you take responsibility for the rise in sea levels from all the tears? A bucket, perhaps?”

“To be honest, these have been a few very difficult weeks and I haven’t had anyone to talk to.”

“There will be no bucket. I’ve no intention of betraying him.”

I pointed at my eyes. 

“Assume they are rolling. Because if a confession could come with a tagline, that would be it. Of course you intend to betray him. It’s what he would do in the exact same situation. And if he had even an inkling of wits remaining, he would instead turn to betray you first in the certain knowledge that my passing amusement is the only thing which could see him released onto an island paradise where he may scheme in peace between heating soap mixtures. A significant improvement over life as a candle.”

The clockwork librarian blinked. As did the sub-wyvern.

No recriminations or defence needed to be offered. It was a point which humoured no argument. 

Slowly, a newly enlightened commoner turned towards his own jailer. 

“The human is, at least, brazenly upfront regarding her wickedness.” 

The unimpressed frown which answered was without either surprise or remorse.

“You will be punished for this,” she said simply.

The sub-wyvern’s maw opened to a fresh bout of flames. 

The window to the abyss shut at once as indignation lashed out in flame form. 

The clockwork librarian huffed as a single strand of her luminous pink hair was singed. She batted the smoke away and sent an unamused glare towards me, her hair now having been harmed beyond measure.

“I hope that was worth it,” she said simply.  

“It was, yes. And not just for avoiding the threat of defeating the same foe twice. After all, if I only wished to preserve my dignity, I would have ignored his existence altogether.”

Her lips parted to ask the most dangerous question.

She had enough sense to clamp them shut. But not enough to stop the clockwork doll who’d slowly sneaked her way over via the tail of a dragon.

Fleur swept around at once. 

It was still too late.

“[Coppelia Lead Roundhouse Spinning Back Kick Triple Hit Super Combo]!”

Bwooomph!

Hurtling faster than any fireball spat in defiance of both hygiene and the lack of a throat, a blur of a chestnut pinafore dress mixed with a dash of pink was all I saw as Coppelia sent her errant co-worker into the newest hole in a cavern wall. It was covered at once by a veil of dust and shattering stone, a crunch filling the air as the younger librarian’s figure was entirely lost within the hard stone.

My mouth widened.

“Coppelia … was that my sister’s technique?"

“Sure was! I've been practising it! Mostly in bakeries! It keeps me and the queue moving!”

I hopped on the spot, clapping in delight.

My, I had no idea! To think Florella’s delicate stress relieving exercise routine for both mind and body was being propagated! Here was the start of something fashionable!

“An excellent choice! Why, each backwards strike of the heel was the spitting image of my sister’s kindness! Your colleague now appears to be so ashamed that she’s hiding inside the literal mountain!”

“Ahaha~ it was only perfect,” she said with a modest wave. “But even if it was more than perfect, that’s still nowhere near enough to keep Fleur in place.”

I blinked...

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-11-02 22:43:48+00:00.

First

(Type, type, type, TRIP! Crash... and the train of thought is GONE!)

Weight of Dynasty

“Alright Mister Mask, this is your show, where do we go!?” Harold calls up as they’re carried up into the sky. A number of the many camera drones that had been recording the concert start following them even as Harold shifts his grip in things and isn’t being carried so much as surfing up the side and into the sky.

“Each one is spewing poison, I need a chemical scan, I need any bombs or robots or whatever defending them taken down and I need it done before it can hit the ground and release it’s death into the city!” The Sorcerer orders from behind his mask.

“Is that it? And here I was worried we’d have a challenge or something. I’ve got a scanner and a boss sword. Launch me.” Harold says and The Sorcerer nods before a wave of his hand has the dust grow into a fingerless glove of woven grass around his right hand.

“I can see and hear through that, call for me and I’ll woodwalk you at will.” The Sorcerer says before the rising pillar splits into five directions, each one angling under a ship. “The sooner we can deal with those poisons the better, but if you take too long it will kill the seeds and the ships will drop and spread the death.”

“Alright, Adept Overwatch, works. You a good shot with a gun?” Harold asks and The Sorcerer suddenly has a full sized coilgun covered in moss. “Works. Send me.”

He’s then literally launched towards one of the falling ships and arrives just as it impacts a cloud, white death trailing after it and leaking over the sides. Causing parts of the cloud to drop.

“I’m a little less reckless.” Hart’Ghuran states as he afixes a small breathing mask to his face. “All of you.”

“Why do you have these?” The Sorcerer asks as he’s also passed a breathing mask.

“A fair amount of my family died to asphyxiation. If I expect to be on a spaceship then you can assume I have enough for everyone at any given moment.”

“And him.”

“I recognized him as a human. Likely whatever this poison is he considers it pleasant in some capacity...”

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Harold climbs onto the ship and forces open the side door then coughs a bit at the disgusting and oddly sweet smell. “Gasoline and burnt rubber? This isn’t playing around.”

“...Hydrogen, Oxygen, Carbon and Chlorine... this pattern is... big. You getting this Sorcerer buddy? The big hitters in this is the Chlorine and the Carbon that’s helping it in. If you can do something about those two then this should be...” Harold says before he shifts by sheer reflex as a blast of plasma erupts from a nearby wall and then nothing follows it. He glances around and spots... nothing. “Be careful, the ship parts are trapped.”

That done he tucks away the Chemical scanner and sends out an Axiom, pulse. It gives him an idea of the shape of the place and then uses his thumb to pop his sword out ever so.

His hand blurs. The sword sings through the air and metal screams as it’s pierced then torn apart. The effect of the blade is extended and the entire ship segment is opened like a shucked clam as the dust rushes in while screaming with Axiom. It absorbs and swallows the gasses before the chunks of ship suddenly vanish.

Harold lands on the flying dust cloud and is held aloft. Just in time to catch a massive laser burst to his face.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Which one of you fired on that man!?” Traffic Control screams to the defence control on the opposite side of the control chamber. A routine day of work had gone DRAMATIC in short order and very few of them were handling it well.

“It was my interceptor drone but it wasn’t me! It’s just... it’s not responding to me anymore!”

“None of them are!”

“Kill the control signal! We’ve been compromised!” Traffic Control calls out and things quickly reset. Interceptor Drones stop launching, but a dozen are already in the air and moving fast. “Figure out how we’ve been hacked and trace back who did it! We’re nailing their hide to the wall!”

“Ma’am! Shit’s happening on live TV!” One of the Controllers says as she holds up her communicator to show that The Five Flyz had used their own stage cameras to watch an areal battle including sorcerers, alien super-soldiers and ROYALTY.

The head controller starts clutching at her chest as the sheer stress of the situation hits her hard. “Someone! AnYOne! Get in coNTact with THEM! Inform them of... our...”

She collapses.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Why are they attacking us!?” Hart’Ghuran demands after a blast of his warfire counters a plasma barrage creating a temporary star in the sky composed of white plasma and blue warfire.

“I don’t care who’s arm you have to twist or how hard you twist it! Get me answers!!” Tryti’Margat coutright screams into her communicator.

“Your highness! We just got through! The drones are hacked by an unknown party! No more will be launched but we don’t know who is doing this or why! You’re surrounded by a dozen hostile ships!”

“Rip them out of the skies! Our enemies have stolen these weapons! Tear them apart!” Tryti’Margat calls out before a drone shoots overhead, upside down and with a figure having rammed his hand into the control mechanisms. He jumps off it and onto the cloud. It’s Harold, the drone he just literally hacked into spirals away and then crashes directly into another.

“Two down. Ten left.” Harold says before looking to The Sorcerer and grinning. “That little coilgun won’t do much against these. Think you can handle this?”

He then pulls out a massive cannon from inside his jacket that with it’s heavily reinforced shoulder rest is revealed to be bigger than Harold himself. “If you can, then only shoot when the backstop is the blackness of space. The stations in orbit can take a missed shot, they’re rated for meteors after all. Buildings and civvies aren’t.”

“What is that monster!?” Hart’Ghuran demands before blocking another Plasma attack. This time with Tryti’Margat’s help as the interceptors try to strafe them with a wide firing arc.

“This is the Undaunted Pop Gun, so named because if you do not have a silence effect the sound of it’s firing will pop your eardrums. If you hold it wrong while firing it, it will pop your shoulder out of it’s socket, and anything smaller than a battleship can be expected to pop like a grape in just a few shots.”

Arden’Karm removes his mask and stares as he slots it on backwards. Making him look like he’s staring behind himself. Then everyone ducks as a laser burst screams through the middle of them, but they avoid getting hit. “No way in any god’s name that thing can hold more than one shot.”

“Here’s another four.” Harold says hauling out a bandoleer of gigantic bullets. Each one clearly custom forged and each one engraved in such a way that a word can be vaguely seen in the side in Galactic Trade. From the top they’re engraved with Pain, Panic, Chaos and Mania.

“... What’s the one in the barrel named?”

“Mercy.”

“Really?”

“One shot one kill is pretty merciful.”

“You scare me human.”

“I scare myself.” Harold says in a joking tone. “Anyways, the ships? We need to...”

There is a roar as Umah decides she’s had enough waiting and a gigantic smilodon with a serpents tail leaps onto one of the harrying interceptors and begins chewing through the automated drone. “Nine left.”

Thomp! BOOM! A thick payload of barely bottled plasma is launched straight up and at just the right time for another interceptor to slam into it, melting the front cone and control mechanisms. Cuasing it to spiral out of control and crash into the dunes just beyond the city’s edge.

“Hmm... still not as long ranged as I’d like, but plasma mortars are looking possible.” Dumaih notes as she looks into her weapon again.

“Well done Seramali, oh when I find the woman responsible for this I am going to make a public spectacle of them.” Tryti’Margat says. “Concentrate on those poisons sorcerer, they’re the main issue. My mother’s warriors will be here shortly no doubt. But I will have my fill first.”

That said she runs off to the edge of the dust cloud and then leaps off and while she does NOT land on an interceptor she lets out a massive plume of blue warfire that clings to the machine and destroys it’s steering mechanisms. She then adjusts her fall to land as safely as she can.

“I’ll get to cracking the other parts open so you can dispel that poison. Watch my back people.” Harold says before racing to the edge of the cloud and leaping off. An Interceptor comes screaming for him, but there is a sudden crashing sound as it’s shattered by something too fast to see. He glances back and sees Arden’Karm with the Pop Gun properly set to his shoulder and already looking for and finding the release so he can reload.

Another comes and this time he deals with it himself. His sword is brought out and the two halves of the interceptor tumble through the air and hopefully hit no one below. Another starts bombarding plasma and lasers at him as he’s identified as a massive threat, understandably he IS a massive threat, but it’s suddenly laid low as a tiny figure slams into it from the side and it’s wings shift into massive stabbing blades that perforate the entire vessel. It starts falling in a controlled glide.

“Imma make sure that th...

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/sjanevardsson on 2024-11-02 22:16:37+00:00.

It was there again, at the edge of my senses, always just out of sight. My brother, mister smarty-pants, said that it was nothing more than stress and apophenia with a dash of pareidolia thrown in for good measure.

I had to look it up after he’d left — I couldn’t let him think his big sister wasn’t good with words. Why couldn’t he just say I was seeing patterns that didn’t exist and assigning meaning to them? That’s what an English degree and a job as an assistant librarian gets you, I guess.

It’s not that I’m stupid, I just went a different direction. While my little brother was busy with college, I was throwing off gender norms, getting my hands dirty and working my way up from the bottom to where I am now. By the time I was certified as a Master Mechanic, I’d moved up to the number two position in the garage. Rick, the owner, has said, more than once, that when he retires, I should take over and buy him out.

He gave me a chance to run the whole show. For the first time in more years than I’d known him, he was taking a real vacation. Rick and his wife were taking a month-long vacation in Cabo San Lucas. For the first few days, he’d called every day, until his wife and I ganged up on him to focus on his vacation. I hadn’t heard from him in over a week, but I still emailed the daily statements to him every evening.

Whatever it was, it had started when Rick stopped calling, but I wasn’t all that stressed. Running the garage felt natural. There was nothing I was doing that I hadn’t done a thousand times before.

I was there late, replacing the brakes on the parts truck, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think someone else was there, too. It was like whoever or whatever it was flitted about just outside my field of view like a shy moth. Maybe that’s what it was — a moth or something around one of the lights casting flickering shadows.

I took a break from my work and walked around the entire garage, inspecting every light fixture. No moths in or around any of them. I even continued my search in the office, the warehouse, and the bathrooms. Aside from the dead bugs in the warehouse lights, nothing.

I went back to work on the truck, focused on my task rather than the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck. After I had the truck buttoned up and ready to go I carried the old pads to the recycle cart. To get there I had to pass Rick’s tool chest. As I did, it felt hard to breathe. It felt as though something terrible had happened to him.

The clank of the pads in the recycle cart pulled my attention back to the garage. Rick was fine, I was just stressed. I was certain my little brother had it right. That didn’t stop me from sending him a “Hope your vacation is going great” text message, though.

I waited too long for a reply, then decided I should head home. Like I often did on the drive home, I came up with a set of tasks for the next day. For sure, I’d have Neil and Jose clean the light fixtures in the warehouse and run a broom through it. Hadn’t been done in months, I was sure.

I parked in front of my apartment, and had a moment, just as I shut off the engine, where it felt like there was someone in the passenger seat. There wasn’t, of course, but it still set my heart to pounding. I locked the car, and my phone chimed with the text message sound.

Excited to hear from Rick, I checked. There were no new texts, and no notifications. Maybe I just imagined it. That had to be it.

As I slept, I relived a conversation Rick and I had a few months prior. We’d somehow gotten on the topic of what, if anything, comes after death.

“I don’t think anything happens,” I said. “Just like there was no you before your birth, there’s no you after your death.”

“But what would it be like if there was something after death?” he asked. “Some way to balance out the cosmic scales of the rich and successful bad people and the poor and struggling good people, for instance.”

“Like karma?”

“Yeah,” he said, “or maybe that’s what Purgatory is for.”

“If that’s your take, what about ghosts? Are they the medium people?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re just trying to avoid Purgatory, or they’re waiting for someone or something.” He laughed. “Tell you what, if there’s something after death, I’ll let you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “You’re talking like you’re dying. What is it? Cancer?”

“No, no,” he said, “nothing like that. I’m old, and you’re still young. Odds are, I’ll die first. And if I do, then I’ll let you know if there’s an afterlife.”

“So, you’ll haunt me?”

Rick rubbed his beard. “Depends. Would you rather be haunted or hunted?” He burst into a cackling laugh. “What a difference an ‘a’ makes!”

I groaned. “You and your dad jokes. At least if you’re haunting me, I’ll know it’s you.”

I woke and realized that I still hadn’t heard from Rick in over a week. I checked my phone again and saw nothing new. I was seriously beginning to worry.

I opened the garage early and checked the phone for messages. There was one from the Sheriff’s department. Intrigued, I listened to the message.

“This is Sheriff’s Deputy Maria Ruiz calling for Ana Navona. Please call me back at your earliest convenience at ….”

I wrote down the number, then called from my cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Sheriff’s Department, how can I direct your call?” the young-sounding man on the phone asked.

“Deputy Maria Ruiz, please,” I said.

There were a couple clicks on the line. “Ruiz.”

“Yeah, this is Ana Navona. You asked me to call you?”

“Ana, I’m so sorry. We just got word from the Red Cross that Richard and Judith Collins were in a boating accident eight days ago. Mexican authorities have given up the search for them and have declared them dead.”

I stared at the window of the shop, the shock blurring the “Ricks Automotive” sign long before the tears blurred everything. “He’s…he’s dead?”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

“Yeah…I gotta go.”

By the time everyone came in, I’d put up a temporarily closed sign and was sobbing in the middle of bay one in the garage.

We had a quiet day, drinking, talking about Rick and Jude, and doing our best not to bawl. My phone rang several times throughout the day, with no number showing up, and nothing but static on the line.

It was sometime after noon that Neil called cabs for everyone to get home, and my phone rang again.

“Listen, whoever this is, today is not a good day for pranks. Leave me the fuck alone!” I yelled.

I heard the static again and waited for any response when I heard his voice, sounding distant. It sounded like Rick, but I knew it couldn’t be, until the voice got louder. “Ana Navona, we’ve been trying to reach you about your karma’s extended warranty.”

prompt: Center your story around someone who’s being haunted — by what or whom is up to you.

originally posted at Reedsy

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2024-11-02 21:55:46+00:00.

The Warchief looked down on the main square. His hair was gray, yet it fell in abundance over his shoulders like a white lion’s mane. His face was covered in old scars and wrinkles, and his left tusk was broken and replaced with a silver tip, but his body still had the vitality of an adult orc. Golden rings covered his fingers, and the golden pelt of a strange beast covered his shoulders.

The other orcs revered him.

“Wolf, son of Dassyra. You are strong, and your strange art deadly. However, you have accepted the taint of Corruption. There is no place for you among our tribe.” The Warchief’s words echoed throughout the orc camp. “You can stay at the camp until your injuries heal. Then, you should leave. Any complaints, Chieftain?”

Dassyra kept her head low, and I couldn’t see her expression. If she had any complaints, she didn’t voice them. The Warchief gave me a fleeting glance, acknowledging my presence, and returned to his tent. When he disappeared inside, the orcs scattered and returned to their tasks. The ceremony was over. Wolf’s display of swordsmanship had been in vain, and our time in Umolo was limited.

Wolf's expression remained impassive, but I knew a storm was raging inside him. It wasn’t [Foresight] that told me, but a hunch. My first reaction was to approach and comfort him, but I stopped myself. Seven years have passed since Dassyra left Wolf at the orphanage. For seven years, Wolf dreamed about the moment of the reunion, but nothing was like he had expected: he returned and showed his worth, yet the Warchief branded him as an outsider.

Wolf followed Dassyra to her tent. My hopes about the private reunion going better weren’t high. Seven years was a long time.

“I’ll show you your lodging,” Little One said. “Please don’t wander far from the tribe’s district. I’m sure Chieftain Dassyra will want to know why you are here during a Monster Surge.”

I nodded. Dassyra was our only ally and our key to survival. Little One gave us a short tour through the camp. Umolo was designed to shelter the tribes in case of a disaster. In addition to the warchief lodging in the main square, there were three permanent buildings: a public bath, a barn, and an underground refuge. I didn’t expect Umolo to have a water system, but Little One told us that the city was the product of hundreds of years of effort for survival. Disease ran rampant during medieval sieges, so having a sanitary system was a great addition to a city designed to hold a large population during dangerous times. Little One told us the water system was relatively new compared with the rest of the settlement, having been built only a few decades ago. The citadel and the terraces was at least four hundred years old, but the original settlement was even older.

I looked at the stone citadel dominating Umolo. The fortification stood defiant over the valley, but what caught my attention was the arched bridges ascending into the mountain. [Foresight] recalled an old memory and projected it into my eyes. Roman aqueducts.

“Those aren’t bridges. Those are aqueducts! You are bringing clean water from the mountains,” I said.

“There are no better stoneworkers than the orcs from Umolo,” Little One said with a hint of mockery.

Stone structures didn’t go along with the nomadic tribe's lifestyle, and Little One seemed to look down upon the orcs of Umolo.

I let [Foresight] examine the exposed sections of the aqueducts. They looked suspiciously Roman, with tall arcs of masonry similar to the Aqueduct of Segovia. The sight was breathtaking, yet something felt odd. Orcs were mostly nomads, and the permanent population of Umolo had to be a fraction of what it was now. Such aqueducts seemed overkill for the population's necessities; they seemed almost out of place.

“How many orcs live in Umolo?” I asked.

“Umolo is a big tribe. Around seven hundred orcs live here permanently, mostly farmers,” Little One said, vaguely pointing at the terraces cut in the mountain.

Aqueducts were overkill for a population of seven hundred living in an already water-abundant place. Umolo and the Greyfangs had their share of secrets, but I had neither the energy nor the time to unveil them. The Access Rune was a target on my back. Our time at Umolo was finite, and I needed time to plan our next steps.

A group of orc laborers dressed in simple undyed tunics finished setting up a tent and scattered without saying a word. I couldn’t help but feel like the tribe was a hivemind. They were too pragmatic, too efficient, and too clean. Maybe that was what it took to survive in the Farlands without a Class.

Little One guided us inside. The tent was spacious, with a skylight in the center that doubled as a chimney for the cooking station in the center. In a corner was a cask of clean water, a bag of an elongated grain similar to rice, and a dark crimson brick of what I could only identify as pemmican. In the opposite corner was a wooden screen and a water basin. Our luggage, or what was left of it, was already inside. Sleeping bags were lined along the wall—one for each of us—with a set of clothes neatly folded by their side.

“It’s child clothing, but… you know,” Little One said.

The smaller adult orc had to be about a palm taller than me.

“It’s not like we could fit into anything else,” Ilya finished the sentence for him. She was pissed. However, I knew Ilya’s anger wasn’t aimed at the orc but at herself. She blamed herself for Wolf’s situation.

“Rest well,” Little One said, lowering his head to pass through the entrance. “I’ll let you know when Chieftain Dassyra is ready to meet you.”

I approached the beds and grabbed the orc's clothing. It was made of a thick, rough fabric made to last. Then, I realized I hadn’t changed clothes in a week. Ilya was faster. She grabbed the smaller set of clothes and cloistered herself behind the wooden screen.

“Do you want to check out the orc baths, Hallas?” I asked. I wasn’t particularly eager to share a bath with him, but I thought I could make him talk if I separated him from Pyrrah.

Hallas grimaced.

“Not a fan of sharing a bath with a bunch of green brutes. I’m going to patrol the wall,” Hallas replied, taking his bow and leaving the tent. He stopped in the doorway. “And you, Pyrrah. You are going to cook something. The monsters can attack any moment, so we must be prepared. Understood?”

Pyrrah dropped her clothes, grumbling. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Ignoring the fact I almost got an unwanted bath partner, I grabbed the clothes and walked to the public baths. It was better this way. I needed a moment alone with my thoughts. I strolled through the camp, and not five minutes later, I was outside the stone building. Without [Foresight], I would’ve ended up lost.

An ancient orc with a hunched back at the entrance gave me a clean towel and asked if I needed new bandages. I accepted his offer. It’s been a day since the elves patched me up, and I hadn’t dared to look underneath the bandages. The orc nodded, and I entered the stone baths. There was a small partition in the center and four lines of wooden stools faced bronze faucets. Skylights illuminated the room, but the gray stone made it look dark and narrow, as if it were underground. It lacked Light Stones. I touched the walls. They were perfectly vertical, cut from a single piece of stone.

To my dismay, there was no caldarium, only faucets. Orcs didn’t seem the sort that enjoyed long baths. I guessed they were too pragmatic for such activities.

“Do you know how to use them, young warrior?” The old orc asked.

I turned the faucet—they worked just like the ones back on Earth—and a thin stream of water fell into the drain on the floor. The water was cold, but after a week without a shower, it was everything I needed. Carving a Fire rune on the bronze faucet crossed my mind, but my common sense advised me against magical vandalism. The old orc then hung a basket with ointment and bandages on a rack, gave me a bundle of aromatic herbs, and left the room. There was no division between stools, but the bath was empty except for me.

I closed my left hand, and every single finger obeyed me. The Holone fruit had repaired my damaged tendons, but my body was far from recovered. I still felt like the Iceshard Matriarch had ran over me. I removed the bandages to find deep scars along my arm. Burn marks covered my fingers—not fashionable ones—and purple and green bruises followed the trail of the mana from my left arm across my chest and into my right arm. Luckily, my right hand was fully intact despite the mana lighting.

The Holone Grapes intrigued me. Unlike Alchemist potions, they weren’t the product of a System Class, yet they worked miracles. And without toxicity! Like orcs, elves had ways to create kingdoms without the assistance of the System. Introducing those methods to Ebros Kingdom might be a permanent fix to Corruption. The Lich’s words echoed in my mind. Bigger and meaner things live in the Deep Farlands. Even if I managed to steal the secrets behind the Holone Grapes, I doubted any human would surrender the powers of the System for the greater good.

I washed my body, deep in thought.

Fixing Corruption was one of my lesser problems. The Lich knew about the Access Rune, which meant I had a target painted on my back. My mere presence in Umolo threatened the orc tribes and everyone around me. I had hoped the tribes would protect the kids while I dealt with the Lich and the Ac...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/bukkithedd on 2024-11-02 21:27:32+00:00.

"What's the worst I've seen in a humans' mind?"

I looked up from the glass I held tightly with my two upper manipulators, willing it to refill with the ethanol-based liquid that was probably strong enough to dissolve paint, let alone braincells.

"You don't know the horrors I've seen, and I hope, for your own sake, that you never will. The beauty. The smells. The SOUNDS!!!" I could hear my voice rising to a shrill pitch as my psychic envelope lost some of it's tightly woven and intricate net of control woven into it, it's colors flaring for those that saw psychic energy as a color-palette.

I continued, my voice a harsh whisper as bleak dread, anguish and an emotion unknown to non-humans bled through the psychic plane: "You don't know the desolation. The despair. The pure, raw anguish!!!" The last few words accompanied by my lower set of manipulators gripping the other persons' collar, pulling them close to my optic-sensors as I screamed it into their face before letting them go and plopping down onto my chair again with a resigned sigh.

"It was supposed to be a routine examination of the human Greg... Just purely....routine. Normal. Mundane, even. I have done many such examinations of sophonts during my career without any issue", I said, my voice returning to normal again as I let go of my unwilling, listening companion. "Nothing could prepare me for what I saw, felt and had to endure, nor will it ever leave me."

I signalled the bartender to refill my glass for the 9th time, meeting only a raised set of eyebrows before it reached for the bottle. Refilling my glass, it merely nodded, as if it knew what I had gone through despite not belonging to the species that were known to be psychics.

"The dive was normal in its anormality. At first, I mean. Open green fields under an azure-blue sky dotted with white puffs of what looked like smoke, with grass gently swaying in the wind. Majestic white flying creatures with slender wings surfing on the winds, diving and frolicking in its gentle caress. Giant, towering plantlife gently waving their branches as the wind passed through them. The smell of what the humans call the sea lured me to climb a small embankment where I gazed upon a vast body of water stretching as far as my optical sensor could reach, while my auditory sensors heard the static-laden sound of undulations of liquid striking the sand where the two met. The beauty of it dumbstruck me, it humbled me with its magificense and made my mind weep through the endlessness of it. But little did I know of the trap that laid within that mind, behind that pleasant and joyful facade that the human always wore."

Half the liquid in the glass disappeared into my primary feeding-orifice, the raw chemical taste of it burning its way down into one of the digestive-sacs to spread its fiery warmth. The room around me was silent, lost in the psychic imagery that was leaking out as my control slipped.

"I do not know how long I was standing there, with the vast body of undulating liquid ahead of me and the green, fragrant plains behind me. I only noticed that it was missing after it had started to fade, which made me turn around. It was as if the scene in front of me had...frozen, somehow. It was first at that point I noticed that the colors were getting muted, the grass and the giant plants withering away into nothing but ash on an invisible wind and the creatures once frolicking had disappeared. The entire scene changed before my eyes to a featureless landscape in the color of gray, industrial ferrocrete for as far as I could see, while the once-azure sky had been replaced by a black more intense than you have ever seen. No stars. No stars to be seen at all. Just...black. A deep, maddening black that hurt to look at, like an abyss with no end and no beginning, ready to swallow the unwary souls that dared challenge its might."

"I started walking, unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to process the oppressing feeling pushing down on me from...everywhere, seemingly all at once. For what seemed like hours I saw nothing change. Regardless of which direction I looked, all I could see was the same bland, gray landscape under a completely black and featureless sky. It became hard to think, to comprehend, to feel, even, although parts of my mind was racing along a myriad of paths trying desperately to make some sort of sense where nothing could be found by bleak emptyness."

"For a long while I walked, until I could walk no more and stumbled onto the ashen ground before me. I was....spent. My once great mental fortitude gone like ash on the wind, my willpower withered into but a husk, my emotions completely overwhelmed by sheer hopelessness and my strenght to continue on lost to me while a sickeningly sweet voice whispered into my audiory sensors for me to give up. To rest my head and succumb."

"Yet somehow I managed to get back onto my feet to stagger forward, as if pushed. Stubbornness, mayhaps? Or driven by a will not of my own? I do not know. All I know is that for the longest time I continued to stagger through the blasted hellscape in front of me until I could see what looked like a rectangular building in the distance. As my energy seemingly returned to me, I started running towards it, reaching for the doorhandle that manifested itself together with an entryway. Desperate to escape, I threw myself through it and slammed it shut in order to escape. And escape I did!»

A bitter laugh escaped me, increasing into a cackle tinged with insanity

«…Or so I thought», I whispered. «When I turned from the door I was faced by what looked like an endless corridor filled with doors on both sides, lit by harsh fluorescent lighting from above. Many doors were unremarkable, while others were held shut with chains, boards and long metal spikes. Some doors were pristine, others wore deep scars of what looked like clawmarks done with a five-fingered hand. Others yet were burned around the edges and angry yellow-red jets of flame leaked through the cracks, and I even spotted some where the door seemed…alive, for lack of a better term, slowly pulsing and twitching

It was at this point that I felt a hand on what humans would call my shoulder, and a gentle yet firm voice say to me that I should not have come here and that I did not belong in this place. I turned back towards the door I came in through only to find that it had been replaced my the visage of the human Greg wearing a sad, weary smile filled with anguish, pity and something I have come to understand is shame. «You do not belong here», Greg said once again, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. «You should go back, as this place is not safe for you. There are….things here», he said, nodding towards the closest of the doors.

The door was slightly ajar, opening onto a sterile white room with another frail-looking human female laid in it. The human itself had a sickly pallor to its skin, stark white hair and a drawn expression on its face as it slept, obviously close to death. A young male human standing at the foot-end, its face locked in a snarl of anger but also of immense sadness, its grief rolling off it as powerful as the heat of a blast-furnace strong enough to crack a moon. He did not notice us, and Greg gently reached out and pulled the door quietly shut while once again reiterating that I should not be here. It wasn’t safe.»

Greg led me down the hallway past many doors while saying nothing. He only stopped me after we reached a door with a gentle light shining through the window of it, turning me in order to look at me. «Now you know», he said. «You know not to look into the minds of humans, as you may find a yawning abyss staring back at you». Another sad smile crossed fleetingly over his face, once again equal parts pity and sadness. «You understand what many of us carry now. What we hide from others, even our closest friends, family and lovers. Some of us might talk of it, others will not. Some will succumb due to it, yet others will silently endure it. I am sorry that you had to find it out in this way. I really am. Mostly because it is infectious, which is why I said that this place is dangerous to you. I hope you can forgive me, but I cannot allow you to stay.»

Some of the other creatures in the bar were openly weeping now as the control of my psychic net had completely failed. A few were unconcious, and one staggered over into a corner and hurled up probably what he ate during elementary indoctrination facility classes in his youth by the looks and sounds of it.

«So what happened? How did you escape?», the bartender said, curious to hear the end of my story. He had a few centuries to get used to all manners of things, given that his species were notoriously long-lived. I merely sighed, my shoulders sinking forward as my head tipped forward as I pushed myself onto my lower appendages.

«Greg kicked me out», I said as I made my way towards the door while pulling my psychic net in tightly around me again. «He opened the softly glowing door behind me, once again begged me for forgiveness, mumbled something about pasta before using one of his primary motive appendages to forcefully and literally kick me out. When I came to, I was half-sitting-half-lying in a corner of the infirmary, while my assistant was still out cold. Human Greg, however, was gone, and I have not seen him since. And I have never dared peeking into a human mind again after that, nor do I think I ever wi...

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[Chapter 1] [Previous] [Book 2]

________________________________

HSTM: Abduction-Chapter 30 'What Ends is New Beginnings'

Paulie saw nothing for a few moments and so he used that time to dash forwards with superhuman speed, the lower gravity of the moon did nothing to alleviate his mass though and he slammed into the far wall with enough force to crack the wall under his shoulder.

“Ow, shit!”  He swore as he rebounded off it and to the floor, shoulder now bruised from the impact.  Losing his footing probably saved his life though as another triple burst of those bright plasma bursts hissed through the space his upper torso had only just vacated.

He rolled back into cover and was rewarded with the sounds of the thug cursing in long hissing gurgles before another shout.  “Arbiters!  Get out here …!”  The alien criminal yelled a word that Paulie’s translator worm didn’t complete.  There was the sound of scuffling and Paulie leaned around the pillar he was using for cover to see two more dark shapes duck into the cover of the overturned furniture.

Paulie took aim with the gun in his hand and then realised it didn’t seem to have a trigger mechanism like he had been expecting.  He swore silently, of course not.  Why would an alien gun be built like one with which he was familiar?  He slipped back into cover and looked over the gun in his hand, it was small.  About the size of a nine-millimeter pistol.  The outside was a dark matte blue metallic color, a series of small dials and buttons on the top and back with what could have been a side mounted magazine or power pack.

While he looked at it dumbly he jumped as another sound broke the relative silence.  A series of much louder cracks, like something splitting the air itself.  A few more of those ear popping cracks were followed by the sound of something screeching in pain for a moment.  Then another crack and the pained cries fell still.

“Zalc!  The dumb judy-cator shot Tarks!”  Another series of loud cracks and the sound of scuffling.  At least one of the goons in the hall turned their head towards the sound and Paulie used the distraction to rush the other two.  The two that were still looking yelled, one of them aiming their weapon his way.  But Paulie had been expecting that.

With a yell he bounded up and to the right, kicking off the floor in the moon’s lower gravity and using the wall to rebound up and over the shots they loosed in his direction.  He felt the wall crack under the force of the impact and for a split second he thought that he might end up barreling straight through it.  But then his momentum was arrested and he rebounded off the newly cratered wall and back towards the ground.  Faster than the hostile aliens could react, he was in front of them.

He used his momentum to kick the thick synthetic looking table they were using as cover out of the way.  The motion sent it spiraling away, along with the slight looking alien that had been using it as cover.  He threw the seemingly useless pistol as hard as he could at the leftmost alien, a sort of shrimplike creature with large compound eyes and pale yellow flesh.  It went down hard in a spray of shattered chiton fragments and orange blood, the gun having left his fingers with seemingly lethal velocity.

The distracted alien tried to turn towards him as the other alien landed in a heap on the other side of the hall under the heavy table, but they only succeeded in turning halfway before Paulie had drawn the knife and Slashed it across the small pink otter-like alien’s face.  It fell back with a scream that made Paulie shudder slightly even in his adrenaline fueled state.  He leapt over the flailing alien and to the side of the door the commotion seemed to be coming from.

Paulie stopped and sucked in several shuddering breaths.  With a moment to think, he did so.  What the ever-loving shit was he doing?  He wasn’t a police officer.  He wasn’t a soldier, mercenary or even a fighter.  He had been in lots of fights in his youth, yeah, but nothing like this.  Nothing with guns or these stakes.

He could die, he would die if he wasn’t careful.  He had resisted the plasma blasts before.  But something told him that they had not been trying to kill him outright before.  He didn't think he was going to get off as easily this time.

Paulie held the knife at the ready, filtering out the sounds of the still screeching alien writhing on the floor behind him.  No, he needed to keep his wits about him as he moved inexorably towards the target of his current ambition.  Another series of loud cracks split the air as he peeked through the doorway only to see a withering barrage of back and forth fire.  The bright blobs of plasma shots came from a couple of Mack’s attackers.

The return fire from further in the room was sporadic, the bright blue lines of the shots like ghostly contrails that seemed to fizz and pop in the air like lightning.  At least one of the two remaining thugs saw him as he peeked inside.  The strange ant-like creature opened its mandibles in a loud chittering alarm as it brought its gun to bear on him.

He had two options, both bad.  He could duck out of the line of sight of the alien, giving them time to ready for his eventual move.  Or he could just dive in, trusting his speed and agility to see him victorious.

Paulie didn’t even have to think it over, his friend was in danger and so he reacted.

Paulie dove into the room with a loud shout, “Look out you weird buggers!”

Maybe not his most impressive insult, but it did the trick as it caused the nearer alien to flinch slightly.  This marginally threw off their aim, combined with Paulie’s much stronger angle of attack and reaction time it allowed him to just stay ahead of the plasmafire that was directed at him.  The bolts flying wide to blast smouldering craters out of the wall behind him.

Each loud thunderclap of collapsing plasma containment fields struck him like a physical blow, the power in each of those shots would have put down a moose he imagined.  Much less he himself.  He hit the floor hard and coughed as the air was knocked from his lungs.  But it was just enough.

He lined up and threw the knife that had been in his hand at the nearby insectoid, and his aim was true.  All that knife throwing he had played around with in his youth had finally come in handy it seemed as the blade sailed end over end to bury itself up to the handle in the ant alien’s neck.  All six of its arms reached up to grasp at the blade as it gurgled, a wash of bright orange blood spilling from its mandibles as the thing dropped its gun and keeled over, twitching and gurgling.

The other alien seemed to have noticed him now, and he tensed as the wide barrel of the gun it held swung in his direction.  He took a breath, the air screaming into his abused lungs as he got his arms down and under him.  The effort to push himself up and out of the way seemed almost impossible to muster, but he managed to just dodge the first bolt of brilliant purple light as it simmered right under his back.  Singing the shoulders of his shirt and causing a line of white hot pain along his shoulder blades.

He could smell burning hair, his own in all likelihood as the thug readjusted for another shot.  He was cooked.  There was no way he could dodge again, not out in the open like he was, winded and in pain to boot.  He would have closed his eyes to avoid seeing his own death coming, but he needn't have bothered.

A line of coruscating blue energy speared through the small gap in the alien’s eyes.  Its far-too-human face turned at once from anger to pained surprise as an explosion of gore painted the wall behind it a deep maroon in color.  The many-limbed body flopped to the ground without a twitch and Paulie slowly got to his hands and knees, still unsure as to how he was not dead.

He got to a kneeling position and looked over his shoulder just in time to catch a dark shape flying at him before he was knocked to the floor once more in a heap.  It was Jakiikii, the termaxxi had come to his aid in just the nick of time.  She was hugging him with all six arms, the woman seemingly beside herself that he had nearly watched him die.  He smiled widely as she untangled her arms from his and then offered him two hands which he accepted gladly.

“Thanks for the assist, I don’t think I would have made it otherwise.”  She nodded as he groaned and shrugged his scorched shoulders, her face serious despite his words.

She rushed around him after a moment and he followed her, “Mack!  Oh, Mack!  Are you okay?!”  She cried out as she moved to the back of the room and through a badly scorched doorway, the mortar still smoking from the carbonised scarring across its surface.  He heard her let out a trilling cry and his heart dropped.

Expecting the worst, he followed the distressed alien woman into the back room and stopped.  Mack was there, his body lying on the floor amid a small puddle of bright blue fluids that must have been blood.  Jakiikii was kneeling by his side, two arms covering her face, two on his still form and two more rubbing together all at once.  He swallowed heavily and fell to his knees in shock and horror.  He had been too late, he was always too late.  It was just ...

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Cover|Vol.1|Previous|Next|Maps|Wiki+Discord|Royal Road|WebNovel|Tapas|Ko-Fi|Fandom/wik

“Um, what exactly are you looking for, Master Taurus?” Duke Godwin asked curiously.

Bowen hummed to himself as he stroked his beard. “May you guide me to where all your dungeon core shards are, Your Grace?”

The young duke looked slightly flustered, clearly unaware of where the shards were in the massive underground vault. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn it was his first time down there, as there was probably no reason for such a young child to do so. He probably wasn’t even allowed to be down there if he wanted. Thankfully, Sir Blackwood was there to assist.

“I’ll take you there now, Lord Taurus,” he said, motioning for us to follow him.

“So…is there any particular reason you brought me along?” I asked while I looked around the underground space.

It wasn’t disorganized; if anything, the vault was well maintained, with items stacked into crates or placed neatly onto shelves. Each crate or shelf had some identifying number on it that a corresponding document would lead someone to if they needed to find something. There were many things down here, dozens of weapons from ornate daggers to large golden halberds fitted with gems. Shelves holding gold and silver ingots, dried herbs, and even preserved monster parts.

Many shelves were dedicated to what appeared to be random items at first glance, but they were no doubt dungeon items. Hopefully, one of them would be helpful in the ongoing battle. I had heard that Prince Xander brought dungeon items to aid the city’s defense, but I had not seen any. They must have been kept under lock and key.

“Well, I figured since you could see mana, that you would be able to assist me in finding what I need,” Bowen finally answered.

“Oh? What makes you think I can do that? To find something with a certain amount of mana, to be specific,” I questioned.

Bowen shrugged to himself and said, “If you can see someone direct mana through a wall, then it was an educated guess that you could see the amount. I’m assuming you can, right?”

“I can indeed,” I confirmed.

“Interesting…well, I’ll be needing that ability of yours in a moment. It seems we’ve arrived,” Bowen said.

Sir Blackwood gestured to the table and some barrels next to it. “The unidentified and non-appraised shards are on the table and in the barrels. If you are looking for high-quality shards immediately, they are against the wall on the shelves, going from low to high quality starting on your left.”

“Thank you, Sir Blackwood. We shall take it from here,” Bowen said as he picked up one of the shards and examined it.

It was a small blue shard, about the size of a pebble, and looked ready to crack with even the smallest amount of force. He twisted it around between his fingers and then tossed it to me.

“What do you know about appraising dungeon core shards, Kaladin?” Bowen asked.

“Bigger is typically better. And the less damage it has, the higher the quality,” I answered.

Bowen nodded in approval. “A relatively straightforward system, yes? However, there are many nuances to it all. Appraisers will spend hours reviewing a single shard, numbering the cracks, and finding patterns in the madness only to set a high gold count for certain patterns or specific amounts of cracks on the surface. Some even say color directly correlates to quality, although that is unfounded as far as I am aware. Frankly, I find it to be nonsense for the most part. There is just simply too much that we don’t know about the hearts of these dungeons…”

“So you want me to find the purest shard with the most amount of mana then?” I questioned.

Bowen surprisingly shook his head. “Not quite. What I need are shards that would be considered…medium in quality but have high amounts of mana in them. When shards are in this middle stage from low to high purity, many people find it troublesome to appraise them and often- let me see…how are these, for example?” Bowen said as he reached down and grabbed two shards.

One was a light blue, while the other was a soft yellow. Volumetrically, they were about the same, about the size of a child’s palm. As for purity, they also looked similar at a glance, each with a fair amount of missing cracks and chunks. However…with my Soulsight, that was not the case.

“The light blue one has more mana than the yellow. I’d say about fifteen percent more, give or take. I don’t have a real way to gauge the exact amount, though,” I said.

Bowen grasped the light blue in his hand, placed the yellow one back on the table, and looked up at me with a smirk. “That in itself is precious information. One wouldn’t even be able to figure that out based on appearance and not until they were fitted in some wand or staff. I couldn't find a difference even if I channeled magic into them. That is the nature of these middling shards and exactly what I need.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with your golem magic?” I asked.

Bowen nodded again as he began searching through the barrels. “Indeed. You see, I can share sight through my golems if I use a dungeon core shard, although I rarely do, as it is both challenging and tiresome. Maintaining that connection at length requires a lot of concentration, and going so far as to reach the outside of the walls and into enemy lines requires my utmost attention and abilities by the end of it.”

“And I can’t use large, pure dungeon core shards for a golem small enough for scouting. The expense is too high, and using weak, low-grade shards is all but useless,” he said.

“So, that’s why you must stay with shards in the middle. However, the medium-quality shards are inconsistent in their mana quantity. And this is where I come in,” I said.

Bowen smiled again as he handed me a few more shards. “Exactly. Many years ago, I tried to perfect this, but after wasting large sums of coin, only to get lackluster results, I’ve finally been able to return to it. So, I need about twenty or so; shall we?”

—

It took roughly an hour to rummage through all the available shards and find the best ones. In the end, Bowen got about twenty shards to his liking, and together, the two of us walked over to the city's western wall. We stopped at the rear, where all the catapults and trebuchets were.

The siege machines constantly fired off large boulders over the walls and into the undead horde. The new stench of rot was even more overwhelming than it was in the early hours. Regardless, Bowen found a place to sit, and I joined him. He immediately set to work and placed an orange-colored shard on the ground. He backed away from it and sat down, outstretched his hands, and began to concentrate.

I was curious to see what it looked like, so I fed mana to my left eye and watched Bowen work his magic. I was surprised to see just how much mana was forming into such a tiny spell core, and within seconds, the spell began to take shape. From thin air a tiny bird made of wind formed. The orange shard floated through its airy body and settled directly to where its face would be.

The air golem bounced around and flapped its wings a few times before getting a running start and jumping into the air. I wondered if that was necessary, but one’s imagination did play a factor in their magic, so if it worked for Bowen, then that was just how it was. After all, what was the point of making logical sense of a bird made of wind magic being controlled by golem magic anyway?

The golem soared into the sky and I quietly observed as Bowen silently controlled his magic. After a few minutes, Bowen abruptly flinched and sighed deeply while opening his eyes.

“I figured that wasn’t going to work…” he grumbled.

“Did something take it down?” I asked.

“Indeed, I didn’t make it very far before a flying undead launched itself into my golem…they are rather weak, considering all they need to do is hit the shard a single time to cut my vision,” he explained.

Boiwen shrugged and said, “Well, onto the next one.”

He pointed to a crew manning a trebuchet and called out to them, “You there, hold that boulder for a moment!”

“Yessir!” the man replied.

Bowen made his way to the placed boulder that was ready to fire and set another dungeon cord shard on top of it. From there, the space where the shard sat on the rock morphed, and the stone went with it. In a few moments, a small animal the size of a rat with a shard on its forehead made of stone had formed from the very stone itself.

I see…launching the golem over the wall…not a bad idea as long as the rock doesn’t crush the golem on impact.

Bowen gave the crew the okay to fire, and he returned and sat down with a sigh. “This is going to be unpleasant…” he mumbled.

The crew gave a final shout, and the boulder was flung into the sky from the trebuchet. Bowen flinched again with gritt...

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Bjin Adrkid, First Class Celestial Adept, was standing rigidly to attention as the Astral Imperator silently read the charges laid before the military court. Bjin knew what the charges said, of course, as the Stellar Warden had made Bjin caligraph the final document himself. Finally the Imperator looked silently at Bjin, waiting for the condemned to plead his case.

“Your Graciousness!” Bjin said, more calmly than he felt, “While it is true, as has been alleged, that I did leave the Terran Liaison Officer alone for a mere moment when I performed a shameful but needful deed in the Necessity, I would humbly offer up an explanation before I am to be demoted and sent to the penal battalion.”

A slight wiggle from the Imperator - an offer to carry on, but not waste the courts time.

“It is also true that the Terran Liaison Officer was entrusted to my protection, although I was not fully aware of my task included protecting us from him.”

The Imperator studied her claws, seemingly oblivious to what Bjin was saying.

“As can be seen from the deposition,” Bjin went on, encouraged by not being told to be quiet, “Liaison Officer Second Lieutenant Fuzz have the necessary clearance to have been present in the Base's War Chamber, and also comes very highly recommended by his War Chief - or General, as our human allies call them.”

The Imperator seemed engrossed in the stitching on the arm of her elaborate uniform.

“It is true that Second, while I was distracted by the needful, in a desire to impress, took it upon himself to - as he will explain - tidy up the area and make things neat.”

Bjin hesitated a heartbeat, as the Imperator’s eyes focused on a lyrak that was buzzing near the ceiling mounted lights.

“While I am sure Your Graciousness can understand the human logic of this,” Bjin went on with a slight tinge of uncertainly in his voice, “I am admittedly unsure what possessed Second to reach the conclusion that having all the status lights on the Big Board in different colours were - to use Second’s own words - untidy.”

Bjin forced himself to keep his gaze steady on the Imperator. The Imperator, on the other tentacle, had her eyes on the buzzing lyrak - which had moved over to a window.

“However, having reached this - to him logical - conclusion, Second started manipulating the switches until all the lights were the same colour. It is my belief - nay, hope - that he failed to grasp that this simultaneously meant disabling the base's perimeter defences while at the same time launching all offensive weaponry.” Bjin carried on, fearign what he was about to say next, “Not having a target programmed, these weapons worked as designed and homed in on the nearest settlement - this being as Your Graciousness is well aware Her Majesty's summer residence.”

The eyes of the Imperator suddenly focused on Bjin. She tapped a claw on a paragraph of the charges as her eyes shoot a question at Bjin.

“I know Your Gracefulness, it is a small mercy that it is wintertime.” Bjin said with a small measure of resignation in his voice, “A mercy I will be reminded of for the rest of my natural lifespan, I am fully aware.”

The Imperator seemingly lost interest in Bjin again. Bjin took a deep, steadying breath as he prepared to present his only hope for being acquitted.

“I have asked Second to be here today to verify the truthfulness of my explanation, so I will ask him to... to…” Bjin almost lost his composure as he looked around frantically for the Terran officer, “Oh bugger, he's wandered of again…”

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/psycocod21 on 2024-11-02 20:30:39+00:00.

First

continued from The joke at the end of The List

Black Tooth, First Fist of the Alpha Expeditionary Force stomped through the halls of his flagship, Chicken Bone. His armored paws created pleasing clicking noises as he passed through the halls and arrived at the command center.

"Report!"

He growled as he entered the bustling room.

"First Fist. The capital has fallen. The Planetary Governor has surrendered. Polaris 7 is ours. Ground troops report minimal casualties, only 18%. Their defenses were exactly as weak as we expected."

Captain Long of Tail reported to his commanding officer. The disdain was impossible to keep out of his voice as he talked about the Churian's lack of defensive prowess. Black Tooth shook his head in disgust.

"Pathetic... Very well. Execute the governor for his failure to provide a decent defense."

The Captain nodded. The Doctrine of Shame was standard procedure.

"At your command, First Fist.... You have a visitor from the intelligence branch in your ready room."

Black Tooth's eyes narrowed. But he nodded. And walked to nearby doorway. The door opened at his approach, and he entered his private sanctum. Well, it would be private if it wasn't for the unwelcome visitor sitting on his dias. He huffed. Black Tooth, like all Space Raccoons in the Armoured Forces, wore his power armour at all times. His visitor, however, was from the Intelligence Division. Most of the ID Agents preferred to remain completely un-armoured, keeping only a minimal satchel on their person. For gods sakes, even the Diplomatic Corp wore moderate body Armour. But not this.... female. He recognized the notch on her left ear..... Quick To Move. She sat with her back to him. He could see her whiskers twitch as she studied the image projected on the wall of his study.

It was a replica of "His Claws Barred", one of the few remaining pieces of art from the Twilight Era. It depicted the great hero Bandit as he attacked the Churian Emporer, effectively throwing off millenia of enslavement.

"Did you know that the Churian Empire has a copy of this in their Royal collection? But they call it "Biting the hand that feeds them."

Black Tooth bared his fangs. The disrespect of this female..... Keeping your back to someone was a sign that you did not view them as a threat. He felt muscles instinctively preparing for a leap when Quick finally turned and regarded him with narrowed eyes.

"First Fist. Do you recall the conversation we had about the customary execution of planetary officials?"

Black Tooth jumped and landed on the raised dias with a heavy clang from his power armour. He sat back on his haunches matching her posture, though he towered 3 inches above her. He trilled.

"I recall you objecting. And I recall me telling you that I will dictate policy for this Expeditionary Force."

Seeing her face, he did add quickly...

"I did, however, lower the percentage from 55% to 25% of losses before enacting the doctrine of shame. It is certainly not my fault that so far, no planet in the Churian Empire has met this quota."

Quick to Move sighed and rubbed her forepaws on her face.

"Very well. In that case, two things, firstly, this is a formal request from the Diplomatic Corp to lower percentage of losses requiring the doctrine of shame to 10%."

She fished a flimsy out of her satchel and laid it on the dias. Black Tooth eyed the paper communique and twitched his whiskers. Quick continued.

"And secondly, the division has confirmed that the Empress's consort and the Crown Prince have returned from exile on the Protected Preserve to the Empire. We expect the reunited Imperial family to take to the field in short order."

The First Fist considered this interesting news.

"I recall seeing an old report about Consort Grey Paw and his combat proficiencies. Do we have any intelligence on the Prince?"

Quick to Move shook her head.

"Unfortunately, we do not. None of our covert drones were ever able to transmit any relevant information. Obviously, we are aware of the Princess's technomancy. At twice her age, we must assume he is even more skilled than she."

Black Tooth nodded. And grinned. Finally, he may face a challenge after all. He glanced down at his work station and called up the Galactic Assault Plan. Now that the Polaris system had been pacified, they would would wait 3 days for Occupying Force Zeta to arrive and take up position before proceeding to the next system. In his mind, he fantasized about personally killing any of the Imperial family, hopefully the troublesome princess.

Quick to Move saw that the First Fist had mentally moved on, and she sighed internally. He had always had a short attention span.

'Very well. I will take my leave. Good day, First Fist."

She lithely jumped down from the dias, landing lightly on her 4 paws. Black Tooth waved dismissively, his thoughts already filled with bloody ends for the Imperial family.

*A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone. Oh, if it wasn't obvious, this is a continuation from The joke at the end of The List. Hopefully I'll get another 2 chapters out this weekend. Thanks to everyone who has commented and up voted. It's always appreciated. *

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/micktalian on 2024-11-02 18:00:23+00:00.

Part 91 Enemy AI (Part 1) (Part 90)

[Help support me on Ko-fi so I can try to commission some character art ~~and totally not spend it all on Gundams~~]

“Is it just me…” Something in the back of Nula's mind told her not to vocalize the particular sensation she was experiencing, especially through the open comms channel, but she simply couldn’t help herself. “Or does this feel a bit too-”

“Don't say it, Nula!” Tens cut the digital woman off with a somewhat harsh tone. Even though this was just a simulation, and he knew that the tactical computer trained by the Combat-AI Captain of The Hammer and Singularity Entity 139-621 was actively ensuring realistic amounts of resistance, the seasoned warrior couldn't let that question be asked. “Don't even think about it!”

“It isn't just you, Nula'trula.” Commander Belatrina responded as her mech streaked through the virtual space battle like a comet and took out the last few two fighter-interceptors defending the enemy cruiser. “Anything rated for over four-hundred meters per second of acceleration is far in excess of anything the Nukatovs produce or field. As aggressive as they are, their large size reduces their piloting capabilities. If we were using Sent Group Tzitu’tulub void-fighters, this would feel just as lopsided. Wouldn't you agree, Sub-Lieutenant Anacaona?”

Of the twenty Qui'ztar honor guards who were able to keep up with the rather intense training sessions that constituted the tryouts for the Order of Falling Angels, only two had previous experience as fighter-interceptor pilots. For the most part, Qui’ztar honor guards were tasked with the protection of high-value or high-paying individuals or assigned to the most daring of infantry actions. They would assault the most sensitive ground planetary locations or perform daring boarding actions on the flagship of enemy fleets. It was rare that people such as Belatrina and Anacaona would even attempt to qualify for honor guard duty, let alone be accepted. Considering the key to survival for small craft in void combat was maneuverability, the reflexes to dodge point defenses while still being able to take out an enemy's critical system, and, most importantly, the ability to stay conscious despite the stresses of high acceleration in any direction, pilots tended to stay as pilots until they retired. The fact that only a single percent of the entire few hundred member honor guard regime of the First of the Third had previously served as pilots was not unusual in the slightest. However, what was shocking was just how apt these two particular former-pilots were at applying their skills in a BD-series mech.

Back when Tens had first created what would become the BD-series mechanized combat walkers, he had done so with the intention of making them the most effective ground-based weapons platform capable of independent orbital reentry. The thought of using these war machines in a zero-G environment hadn't even crossed his mind until the idea was brought up a few years ago by a close friend and fellow member of the Hell Divers named Gadzemki who, like Bela and Ana, had been trained as a pilot. Similar to how Qui'ztar honor guards were most often selected from combat infantry, and specifically either breachers or drop troops, the original group of BD operators that formed the Hell Divers contained only a couple fighter-interceptor pilots. While high-G tolerances were certainly tested during qualifications, all priority was given to individuals who were exceptionally gifted at high-speed close quarters combat and prolonged physical endurance. The only reason Gad had become a Hell Diver, much like how Bela and Ana became honor guard, was purely due to perseverance and determination. Seeing what these two Qui’ztar pilots turned mech operators were capable of with their BDs free of the restrictions of gravity was starting to remind Tens of his old friend who had long since moved on to command a unit of his own.

“To be honest with you, Commander…” As Sub-Lieutenant Anacaona spoke, her mech sending a stream of weapons fire into a fighter launch tube, it sounded like she wanted to agree with Nula and Bela but understood why Tens didn’t want anyone saying this was easy. “A squadron of twenty-two Tzitus would be complete overkill for a Nukatov carrier cruiser of this class, especially with these outdated Mark 32-79 fighter-interceptors as its complement. In fact, I'm surprised our reports showed that these are what our target is equipped with instead of something newer. That being said, I wouldn't necessarily say that this simulation is easy, nor that our adversaries will be swiftly defeated.”

“Well, we'll need to take out their comms and FTL drives at least as fast as we have in these past three sim runs!” Tens announced as if those objectives were do or die. This particular run, the fifth of eight planned simulated combat encounters for this mission preparation session, had been the fastest so far. However, there was still room for improvement and no room for complacency. “As of right now, the Military Command records for the void combat capabilities of these BDs are very limited since my people haven't done any real or official testing yet. We can't let these mercs send any combat data to their employers, otherwise that could permanently remove any chance of us in the First of the Third or the Nishnabe Militia from surprising anyone else with this tactic again.”

“If I can get within range of the target ship fast enough,” Despite sounding a bit distracted, Nula's voice was full of self-confidence. Though the mental load of disrupting and redirecting dozens of enemy weapons was heavy, her new and improved shell granted her more than enough processing power to handle all of it and then some. “I could have their comms down in under a minute. Ansiki shared the base code of this ship’s operating system with me, and I've already written several data demons to cripple our enemy.”

“That's assuming they haven't hired a sapient AI of their own, Nula.” The Nishnabe warrior countered. “If they do, we’ll need to physically destroy their communications arrays to cut off the ship's connection to the Nexus or wherever that AI actually lives.”

“What if that AI is living in the ship the same way I'm living in my shell or Tylon lives in The Hammer?”

As soon as Nula'trula asked that question, Tens and the other tacticians who heard it had a genuine moment of pause. The possibility that the Nukatov mercenaries had hired a sapient AI to assist them with this mission had, of course, been considered. Digital beings, just like biological ones, had to make a living somehow. While most took jobs that were anything but controversial, traffic management, resource planning, administrative work, or even contracting with legitimate military organizations, there were also certain individuals who preferred higher paying and often scrupulous forms of labor. It wasn’t unheard of for AIs to accept jobs from pirates or other nefarious groups either as a means of making quick credits or to fulfill some innate desire for less than legal adventures. However, a Nukatov-made cruiser, let alone one of their carrier cruisers, simply wouldn't have a large enough processing core to house an AI more capable than a relatively low level Data-born. Regardless of the type of digital being who could be comfortable living in such a small space, having an Artificial Sapience onboard the target vessel would have the potential to make things much more difficult than this simulation could properly impart.

“Then things will get a bit more complicated.”

/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And these, students, are, or should I say were, the six primary models of Hekiuv'trula warforms.” As 139 guided the class of Turt-Chopian, their professor, and his assistant through a small, museum-esque section of their sphere, the Singularity Entity could see that every one of the three-sided beings was in total awe of their surroundings. “Starting from the smallest unit, the two-meter tall infantry variants are very similar to what the biological Artuv'trula species would have looked like. Bipedal, digitigrade, fast, relatively lightly armed and armored, and designed to act as infiltrators, scouts, and the basic foot soldiers of the Hekuiv'trula menace. Then, next to them, we have the larger, quadrupedal warforms that made up the majority of ground forces. Those were so well armed and armored that my people had to develop new combat forms in order to counter them in the heated battles over various planetary targets throughout the war. Next to- Oh, is there a question?”

“Is that- Uh…” Lenthum had confidently raised one of his tentacle arms to pose a query but quickly found himself stuttering as all of the other Turts focused their ring-like optical organs on him. “Is that the same kind of machine that Lieutenant Tensebwse wanted to make into a… Pet?”

“Ah-haha! Yes! Indeed it is, Mr. Tominet.” 139 answered with a chittering laugh that brought many confused expressions to the group. “But don't worry, I still have the other example extracted on tha...

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“Humans are the galaxy’s worst-kept secret,” Captain Grikhan muttered, tapping his fingers on the command console.

The bridge of the Trinak’tar hummed with nervous energy, and for good reason.

The vessel, one of the most advanced in the Brallian fleet, had drifted perilously close to the solar system labeled by every interstellar map with an unsettling warning: Do Not Approach—Under Any Circumstances.

Lieutenant Gral, pale even by his species’ standards, shuffled awkwardly by the captain’s side. “Captain, I must ask again—why are we here?” His voice cracked, earning snickers from the junior crew.

Grikhan let out a sigh that sounded like an overworked steam vent. “Gral, I’ve got debts heavier than a Nebulon slug after hibernation.

 Rumors say there’s ancient tech drifting near Sol’s asteroid belt worth a king’s ransom. We get in, we get out, and we’ll be feasting on Cindorian pearls before the cycle’s end.”

Gral swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the radar. It blipped frantically, sending a cold shiver down everyone’s spines. The humans had noticed them.

“Captain! A transmission!” A comms officer chirped, barely keeping his beak from trembling.

The message crackled, a voice thick with bravado and tinged with a drawl that made Grikhan’s skin itch. “Howdy there, unidentified spacecraft.

You’re trespassin’ on Earth’s front porch. State your business, or you’ll see what a Texan-style welcome feels like.”

Grikhan shot Gral a look that screamed regret. “Open a channel.” He cleared his throat, forcing a smile that no one on the other side would see. “Ah, esteemed humans, we come in peace! Just passing by on a, uh, scenic route.”

The reply was instant. “Scenic route, my thrusters. You’ve got five minutes to turn tail, or we’ll make scrap outta your shiny ship.”

Gral’s eyes bulged as he mouthed, “Five minutes?”

Captain Grikhan’s smile slipped, panic replacing whatever sliver of confidence he’d managed to muster. They had underestimated the humans’ infamous territorial streak.

Stories of Earth’s fierce defenders, dubbed ‘Space Rednecks’ by more polite circles, suddenly seemed far less exaggerated.

“Captain, what do we do?” Gral’s voice pitched, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm.

“Divert power to shields,” Grikhan commanded. “And prep the warp core for an emergency jump. Let’s not stick around to see what these maniacs have in their toy chest.”

Just as the crew leaped into action, a new signal blasted across the speakers, so loud and twangy that half the crew winced.

“Y’all ever heard of space joustin’? No? Well, today’s your lucky day.”

Before anyone on the bridge could react, a swarm of metal blips appeared on the radar, charging straight at them with alarming speed.

Grikhan squinted at the holographic display, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Captain, those are shuttles. Old ones!” Gral sputtered, pointing a shaky claw at the screen.

Each craft was patched together with mismatched panels, painted in bright colors, and sported large, intimidating weapons strapped to the sides.

Most absurd of all, some had phrases painted on their hulls like Git Off My Lawn and Don’t Mess With Texas.

“They’re coming in hot!” shouted the comms officer, feathers ruffling in panic.

“Of course they are,” Grikhan groaned, smacking a palm to his snout. The humans were known for their love of absurd tactics. But this? Space jousting? He hadn’t seen that one coming.

Suddenly, the comms crackled with another voice. This one was deeper, with a slow, deliberate drawl. “I’m Captain Buck Wilkins of the Earth Defense League.

Now, you alien fellas done made a mistake, wanderin’ this close. So, here’s how it’s gonna go. Y’all line up nice and pretty and let my boys test out their shiny new railguns.”

The bridge fell silent. Grikhan and Gral exchanged a long look filled with sheer disbelief.

“Captain, are they serious?” Gral whispered, his voice barely above a squeak.

“Do I look like I know, Gral?!” Grikhan hissed back, jabbing at the console to bring up the tactical map. A sudden jolt rocked the ship as the first blast skimmed their shields, sparking alarms and sending a cascade of blue sparks across the bridge.

“They are serious!” shouted the weapons officer, fumbling to regain his balance.

“Right, enough of this!” Grikhan roared, suddenly channeling a burst of reckless defiance. “Redirect power to frontal shields. Let’s give them something to think about.”

Gral gaped. “You’re going to face them head-on?”

“It’s called a bluff, Gral! Ever heard of it?” Grikhan forced a grin that was more teeth than mirth. “They think we’re running. Let’s show them we’re not that stupid.”

The Trinak’tar turned with a grace that belied its size, facing the incoming Earth Defense League shuttles. For a heartbeat, silence reigned as both sides stared down the void between them. Then, a shuddering blast filled the air as the humans opened fire.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Grikhan shouted, gripping his seat as the ship spun in a stomach-churning arc. The first volley slammed into their shields, flashing in a burst of electric blue. The Trinak’tar groaned under the strain, lights flickering as the crew scrambled to keep the systems in check.

“Captain, the shields are holding, but not for long!” yelled Gral, his voice cracking.

“Open a channel to that Buck fellow,” Grikhan commanded, sweat beading on his brow.

The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Captain Buck Wilkins, leaning back in his seat with a cowboy hat tipped at an angle and an exaggerated grin on his face. Behind him, the crew of his ship whooped and hollered like they were at a space rodeo.

“Decided to chat, did ya?” Buck drawled, arching a brow.

Grikhan took a deep breath. “Captain Buck, I must say, your enthusiasm is... impressive. But we’re merely explorers, not invaders. Perhaps we can reach an understanding that doesn’t involve you turning us into cosmic confetti.”

Buck’s grin widened. “Oh, we understand plenty, alien. And we’re gonna give ya a head start. Ten seconds. Run fast.”

“Ten seconds?!”

“Tick-tock,” Buck said, waving a hand lazily.

“Gral, punch the warp drive!” Grikhan roared, slamming the emergency override. The crew collectively held their breath as the engines sputtered, then roared to life with a bone-rattling hum.

A final blast lit up the rear of the Trinak’tar, sending sparks flying. But it was too late for the humans—the ship burst forward into a streak of light, leaving behind only a faint echo of Buck’s voice shouting, “Y’all come back now, ya hear?”

Grikhan slumped back in his chair as the stars blurred past. The crew let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by nervous laughter.

“Captain, remind me,” Gral said, shaking his head. “Why did we ever think this was a good idea?”

Grikhan chuckled, the sound dry and hollow. “Next time, Gral, remind me to read the fine print on those star maps.”

Behind them, the echo of Earth’s defenders faded, but not forgotten.

The Trinak’tar cruised through the void at warp speed, leaving behind the chaos of their not-so-friendly human encounter.

The bridge settled into a tense silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the engines. Grikhan rubbed the spot between his eyes where a headache had formed. He couldn’t shake the vision of Buck’s grinning face and that absurd hat.

“Status report,” he muttered, voice rough.

Gral, still a shade paler than usual, flicked through the readings. “Shields at 23%, warp core holding but stressed, and we’re missing a rear stabilizer.” He paused, glancing up. “On the bright side, we’re alive.”

A low chuckle swept through the crew, relief creeping in like a cautious guest. Grikhan allowed himself a small, exhausted grin. “That’s the first good news all day. Gral, set course for the nearest friendly outpost. We need repairs, and I need a drink.”

The bridge door slid open, and Chief Engineer Brim stomped in, his gray fur bristling and eyes narrowed. “Captain, we need to talk about your definition of ‘scenic route.’ The warp core nearly imploded from that last stunt!”

Grikhan sighed, meeting Brim’s glare with the practiced weariness of a leader who knew when he’d messed up. “Point taken, Brim. Next time, we’ll steer clear of any system with a reputation for, well... ‘enthusiastic’ defense measures.”

“Enthusiastic?” Brim barked a laugh. “Captain, I thought I’d seen it all. But those humans? They play war like it’s a party.” The chief’s fur settled slightly, and he added, “Still, you did keep us from being turned into a debris field. So, credit where it’s due.”

Gral snorted softly. “I think I’ll pass on any future ‘tours’ near Earth’s space. Let’s keep our explorations in zones where we’re less likely to get challenged to a duel by ships named Space Wrangler.”

Laughter broke out across the bridge, tension evaporating with each chuckle. Even Grikhan’s rigid stance relaxed as he watched his crew unwind. They’d gotten out by the skin of their teeth, but they were alive and together, still sharing stories to tell and lessons learned.

The ship limped into the safety of Kallor Outpost, a bustling station known for its neutrality and a clientele that spanned the stars. The dockmaster, an elderly Vixtar with too many eyes and not enough patience, took one look at the battered ship and whistled. “Rough trip, Captain?”

Grikhan stepped dow...

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Ka’gar made his way through the crowd, his mind set on his next delivery. As he walked, he turned his head 270°, cautiously surveying his surroundings. As a Xila, the thousands of small bones in his body allowed him a great degree of flexibility. Combined with a 3 chambered heart and adhesive setae on his hands and feet, the Xila were especially elusive, a necessity considering the predators on his native planet. Perfect for survival and perfect for his line of work.

Ka’gar saw nothing suspicious. Still, he clenched the package and held it close. Not only was this narcotic highly illegal, the client had requested a very particular narcotic that was difficult to obtain on this backwater slumworld. As he arrived at the designated bar, he gazed around once more; no patrols, no observers, plenty of places to hide, enough room to run, and the wretched stench of the slums would mask his scent. Ka’gar made his way inside and looked among the patrons, searching for a human. Humans were the newest species to join the galaxy, yet even among the multiple sapients, humans stood out. No tentacles, scales, feathers, fur (except on their heads and faces) and no claws, venom, webbing for swimming, setae, or natural armor. Ka’gar dimly remembered hearing a galactic report on human physiology and something about “unique thermoregulation” and heart chambers, though he cared little for such details. How such a hideous and ill-equipped species survived to reach a Tier 1 civilization level, Ka’gar did not know. But as hideous as they were, this one was paying and that’s all that mattered.

Near the back exit, Ka’gar spotted him; a lone human sitting at the bar. Ka’gar made his way to him and sat down: ”I’ve brought your ‘food’, human. Payment is due.” The human did not budge but uttered a gruff ”I didn’t order any food.” Ka’gar briefly flexed his scales upwards, both to vent his body’s excess heat and as a sign of frustration; amateurs infuriated him. He leaned closer to the human and hissed ”You know what I meant and you know who I am. Payment. Now.” Without missing a beat, the human replied “No, I don’t know you, buddy.” Ka’gar flexed his scales once more, much more obvious this time. ”I am Ka’gar the Scab” he seethed “and you know what I do to those who waste my time” For the first time, the human turned towards him and smiled, baring his repulsive, yet comically blunted teeth. ”I know. I just needed to hear you say it.” The human stood, blocking the exit door and pulled out a small badge: “Ka’gar ‘The Scab’ Mak’raa, you are under arrest for…”

Before the human could finish his sentence, Ka’gar leapt to the ceiling. As he ascended, Ka’gar noticed the human had already begun reaching towards him, nearly catching his foot. An impressive reaction time, he thought, but not fast enough. Ka’gar landed on the ceiling, sticking to it briefly before jumping again towards the exit. As he burst through the door, Ka’gar noticed the human had already recovered from his failed tackle and was running towards him. Ka’gar ran through the alleyway, quickly outpacing the human. Ahead of him, a barred fence blocked the way, sealed with a lock he did not have time to breach. Ka’gar turned his body sideways and squeezed himself between the bars. A narrow fit, even for him, but his lead on the human gave him more than enough time. Ka’gar smiled at the thought of another successful escape and turned to taunt his pursuer. However, instead of stopping, the human continued to sprint before jumping sideways, placing his foot on the wall, then jumping off of it while reaching out for the top of the fence. In one fluid motion, the human pulled himself up and over the fence.

Ka’gar immediately sprinted down the next alleyway, barely comprehending what he just saw. Did humans have adhesive setae too? It didn’t matter at the moment. He could still outrun him. Ka’gar sprinted through alleyways, changing directions, knocking over as many objects as he could without stopping, anything to slow down the human. After a few minutes, Ka’gar turned his head, but did not see the human. Suddenly, he became aware of the suffocating heat within his body, a sign of impending exhaustion. Ka’gar flexed his scales to cool off. He must have run over a quarter of a mile to build up such heat. Never before had he expended so much energy on an escape. Just then, Ka’gar heard the quick rhythm of footsteps running towards him. As he turned, Ka’gar saw the human rapidly approaching, leaping and sliding over every obstacle before him.

”Impossible!” he huffed. No species could have recharged their stamina that quickly, yet the human didn’t even seem phased. With no other option, Ka’gar relaxed his scales and sprinted forward again. If alleyways offered no safe haven, then perhaps it was time to climb. Ka’gar ran towards the nearest wall and jumped, his setae clinging to the surface. As he climbed, Ka’gar looked back and met the gaze of the human as he continued to run after Ka’gar. For the first time since he saw him, Ka’gar felt not disgust, but fear. Even from this distance, Ka’gar could see the look in the human’s eyes was one of deadset determination, as if he had locked on to Ka’gar. Almost like…a predator.

Ka’gar shook off the feeling and climbed faster. It was not possible for this coddled, misbegotten freak of evolution to be a predator. As he reached the top of the building, Ka’gar vented his body heat once more, hopefully for the last time. Just then, he heard a clanging sound and rhythmic thumping from below. He glanced over the edge, expecting to see the human feebly attempting to climb or destroying his surroundings in frustration. Instead, he saw the human climbing, not along the wall as he had, but using objects, pipes, railings, and ledges to slowly ascend towards him. For a brief second, Ka’gar was stunned as he watched the human effortlessly jump from point to point, using his momentum, distributing his weight, and an uncanny flexibility in ways Ka’gar had never seen. ”NO!!” he wheezed. As he ran across the rooftops, he felt the beating of his heart punching him in the chest. If he did not shake the human soon, Ka’gar feared his body may reach its limit.

It did not help that the tightly clustered buildings of the slums forced Ka’gar to jump every few feet, the constant leaping only adding to the massive exertion he was placing on his body. Ka’gar swiveled his head and saw the human had reached the rooftops and continued to pursue him. Unlike the massive lead he possessed before, the human was only 100 yards behind him now; Ka’gar was getting slower. Ka’gar snapped his head forward and saw a Taxnag passed out from intoxication on the roof ahead of him. Fortunately, they had left the roof door open. Ka’gar leapt with as much strength as he could muster, and dove through the door and down the stairs. As he reached the hallway, an elevator greeted him on the other side, its open doors as welcoming to him as open arms. Ka’gar sprinted with all his might, crashing into the elevator’s wall and hitting the ground floor button.

Ka’gar could barely flex his scales this time as the elevator descended. What kind of species was this? What abomination of nature could run without tiring and move with such dexterity? Ka’gar thought back to the galactic report on humans, struggling to remember the details that may help him. He remembered hearing that the humans’ home planet was a death world, brimming with predators that would make even the fearsome Kevnej tremble. And yet the humans, for all their lack of natural adaptations, were somehow the dominant species? Clearly they could be physically surpassed, so how were they not hunted to extinction by their planet’s predators? No prey species could survive so long, especially on a death world. But that look in the human’s eyes was unmistakable. Only a predator could possess such a gaze.

As the elevator reached the ground floor, Ka’gar summoned what little energy he had left and punched the control console, destroying it. While the doors slid open, an automated voice proclaimed ”Elevator malfunction. Maintenance required.” Ka’gar smiled weakly, ”Hope you have a parachute, human” he uttered. As he walked slowly towards the exit, he heard a familiar clanging sound coming from the stairs. ”No…no…no no!” Ka’gar cried. His body instinctively ran towards the exit while his gaze remained on the stairs, only to be met with the sight of the human on the outside of the staircase, rapidly descending by leaping from rail to rail. Ka’gar burst out into the street, knocking over several pedestrians. He was desperate now, with no consideration for where he was running or what was in his way. Ka’gar could scarcely breathe and his body felt as if it was on fire. If he escaped, he would never again deal with humans.

As the human emerged from the building and sprinted after Ka’gar, he failed to notice a garbage transport traveling down the street. The transport’s brakes screamed as it came to a near instantaneous stop, but had enough inertia to bump the human, knocking him to the ground. What fortune! Ka’gar thought. Humans had no natural armor and Ka’gar hadn’t seen the human wearing any. He slowed his pace, but did not stop. The transport had stopped quickly enough to avoid dealing fatal injury to the human, but even from here, Ka’gar could tell his shoulder had been dislocated. The human slowly rose to his feet, grasping his shoulder. The hum...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/rewt66dewd on 2024-11-02 18:09:13+00:00.

"So, Admiral, what have you decided?" Jean asked.

"First., I'm not 'Admiral'. I'm 'retired Admiral'."

"You are? When did you retire?"

"Last night. I can't claim that this is Terran Alliance Navy business. I'm far enough out here already. And I'm getting bored watching them unload cargo. It's important, but it's boring. So. As to your question, I haven't decided anything. I'm waiting for my conscience to speak."

"I see. So now that you're retired, what do I call you?"

"'Admiral', or 'Hawkness', or 'Paul'."

"All right. So, um, Paul, how long do we wait for your conscience to say something?"

"I don't know. How long is it going to take you to figure out what to say?"

"Me? I'm your conscience? I'm a pirate!"

"You're a former pirate - one who nearly destroyed his ship rescuing a bunch of people from a space disaster, and risked arrest to get them to safety. And then deliberately got captured by slavers in order to take down their operation. Who left piracy, renaming himself from Jean LaFitte to Jean Valjean. And then pleaded for aid for a race that was about to get conquered, even though they had nothing to offer in exchange. And now is trying to figure out how to free a bunch of races that are under the heel of the Gzaal elite. And who, in several of those situations, pushed me into taking action. So, yeah, you're my conscience."

"Oh," Jean said in a small voice. He thought for a bit. "Well... I can see three possible objectives. One, we try to capture the secret of the elite's immortality. If we do, it may apply to humans. We also could offer it to the non-elite Gzaal. Second, we try to free everyone from the elite's control. Three, we try to kill all the elite."

"That's about where I got," former admiral Paul Hawkness said. "And that's where I got stuck."

"As you said: I'm going to have to think about this one."

The next day, Jean met with Paul again. "All right, I have thought," he said, "And we're not going to make killing all the elite into an objective. Given what they've done, they deserve it, but we aren't going to focus on it. Some of them may die as a result of what we do, but we aren't going to make it into a priority. We are not going to be in the mass murder business.

"And if we can free everyone that's under them, then whatever comes next may give those elite justice, or at least vengeance. And justice and vengeance may not be that far apart.

"We're going to try to discover their secret of immortality, and try to free people under them. In fact, we may be able to free people under them by finding the secret. They we can offer it to the people under them. 'Look, here's this wonderful thing that they kept for themselves and wouldn't let you have.' That might be enough to trigger a revolution."

Paul nodded. "So what do we do next?"

"We recruit some people. We need some fighters, some xenobiologists, some investigators, and... some pirates."

"Pirates?"

"Sure. You want something. Find out where it's going to be, go there, and take it. Classic pirate activity."

Paul smiled. "And I guess you might know some people."

"For that, yes. For the rest, not so much."

Paul nodded. "One more thing. We need a hull with more firepower than that freighter of yours."

Previous

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Arceroth on 2024-11-02 13:14:46+00:00.

“November nine two three Tango Golf to, uh, the giant floating island,” the radio in Orlan’s hands crackled, “I was told to treat you as an uncontrolled airfield, but there would be someone with a radio, do you copy?”

“Yup, I hear you,” Orlan replied, covering his eyes against the sun as he spotted the approaching aircraft. There were two of them, though that wasn’t surprising, one was purely cargo while the other held the technical staff needed to set up the equipment along with more stuff. A good portion of the cargo was supposed to be bulk foods like grain, but most of it was communications equipment including a cell tower that would, in theory, allow the entire island full coverage.

“Great,” the pilot replied after a moment, the two aircraft beginning to circle the island, “I was also told there was a runway on the southern end of the island, but I don’t see anything. Over.”

“The runway is basically a large expanse of stone, but it’s flat and hard with no gravel or anything,”

“That’s great, but it’s hard to land when we can’t see a runway. Over.”

“One moment,” Orlan said, looking over at Nallia, who was already busy tapping at the phone. The signal on top of the island wasn’t great, but being near to Bermuda had ensured they could at least get a passible one. After a minute she held up the phone to display a typical runway.

“I’ll handle the markings, you do the lights?” Orlan asked, to which the blank faced woman simply nodded holding up her hands to begin casting. Orlan mimicked her, a spell circle forming first in the air before him, then a larger one half hidden under the ground where the runway started. It passed over the ground, the stone shifting becoming lighter or darker as needed to mimic the paint of the runway. Several lights, largely unneeded in the day, popped up thanks to Nallia’s light magic.

“How’s that?” Orlan asked over the radio once they were both done.

“Well I’ll be, that wasn’t there a minute ago,” the pilot said after a moment, “looks good, giant floating island, November nine two three Tango Golf entering pattern for landing, over.”

Moments later a second voice, presumably the other cargo jet said something similar as both aircraft began their approach.

“I’m still impressed they can make such large things fly without magic,” Lailra commented as the cargo jets began their approach, “they look more like birds than ships.”

“That is intentional,” Nallia replied, “the wing design creates lift when moved through the air at the right angle, just like a bird’s.”

“Is there anything you haven’t researched on that thing yet?”

“It seems to have access to the majority of knowledge on this side, why wouldn’t I make use of it?” Nallia countered, cocking her head. Before they could continue, however, the whine of the jet engines became to loud to easily carry on a conversation. Another wind barrier kept them safe from any wind kicked up as the first cargo jet landed, pulling off to the side to allow the second to land as well. Orlan and his knights approached the first aircraft as the door swung open, revealing a man who glanced down at the ground, over five feet below him and scowled.

“I don’t think we thought this through,” he commented but, by way of replying Orlan lifted a hand, casting a quick spell to reshape the stone of his island into a stairway, “or… never mind. Can we get another one of those by the cargo door?”

Orlan followed the man to the rear of the aircraft where, upon being shown another door, he created another set of stone stairs. The crew of the first aircraft began unloading while Orlan made his way to the second to assist them as well. The second jet was the one with passengers and one of the first figures to make their way down the stairs was a rotund man in a sweat stained suit shirt.

“Fuck, shoulda known it would be hot,” the man cursed as he walked over to Orlan, “Orlan, is there somewhere we can talk?”

“You’re Theo?”

“Ah, right, we’ve never met face to face, yes, I’m Theodor, congressman, whatever, we need to talk.”

“Once I get everything here going we can head back to the castle,” Orlan nodded.

“Do you have AC there?”

“It’s cooler there,” Orlan replied dryly, about to continue when a loud gasp caught everyone’s attention.

“Orlan?” a woman who was halfway down the stone staircase asked softly, looking at the Protector Lord in shock.

“Em?” Orlan replied, his eyes widening in shock as well. The woman, wearing a technician’s uniform for some phone company nearly ran the rest of the way to the ground and over to Orlan where she paused, looking him over, as if ensuring he was real.

“I thought you were dead, we all thought you were dead,” she said softly.

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Orlan said with a slight grin.

“You…” she stared her expression of shock shifting slightly to one of surprise before she laughed, throwing herself forward and hugging him, “you’re definitely Orlan,” she said, crying and laughing.

“You two know each other?” Theo asked, sounding surprised.

“This is Emily, my little sister,” Orlan replied with a grin.

“Your older sister,” she corrected without breaking the hug.

“Older, but smaller.”

“We all thought you were dead,” she said again, finally pulling back enough to look at him, “when you vanished… we’d no idea what happened.”

“Turns out I got sent to another world, cool huh.”

“And you became… what, some magic wielding super hero with a giant flying island?”

“Basically.”

“Wait,” Theo interrupted, “he’s been all over the news for nearly the last two months, how is it you didn’t realize it was him?”

“You think I have time to watch the news?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve three kids, a job and a house to look after.”

“Three?” Orlan asked.

“I wanted two, but the second was twins,” she explained, before turning back to Theo, “but I heard about some magic knight guy named Orlan, but, honestly, I never imagined it would be my brother!”

“What are you even doing here?” asked Orlan, looking his sister over.

“I work for a phone company, was told we’re going to be putting a cell tower up here,” she answered, gesturing to her uniform, “I live in Florida now, so we’re close, but I thought it was odd they asked for me by name. At least, I did until now.”

“Who asked?”

“The government? Whoever was deciding who to send here.”

“Theo?” Orlan asked after a moment in a flat voice, “is this what I think it is?”

“I-I… I don’t know,” Theo stuttered, scrambling for his own phone, “I wasn’t aware of it in any case, but…”

“Orlan?” Emily asked, starting to look worried.

“You haven’t seen the news, but the US has a bit of a beef with me,” replied Orlan.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing! I just appeared over a major US city in a magical floating island to fight off a bunch of monsters!”

“You broke into the Pentagon,” Theo added.

“After they kidnapped one of my knights!”

“And made a fool of congress.”

“Like they needed me for that.”

“And beat up a bunch of spec ops guys.”

“Who were trying to invade my island,” Orlan sighed, “they started it!”

“Didn’t you lift a submarine out of the water or something?” Emily asked.

“Only for a moment.”

“But you touched one of the US’s boats.”

“Oh shit,” Orlan swore.

“You’re already dead… again,” Emily said with a slight grin.

“What?” Theo asked, seeming confused.

“Never mind,” Orlan sighed, shaking his head before looking at Theo, “if this is an attempt at intimidation or manipulation…”

“You think the government is willing to use me against you?” Emily gasped, “what about my family?”

“I don’t think the government is directly involved, but…” he paused, glancing at Orlan, “can we talk? Somewhere private?”

“Right,” Orlan nodded, pulling away from his sister’s embrace, “you’ll be here for at least a day setting up the tower, so we can catch up over dinner.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she nodded, stepping back and saying goodbye before heading over to her confused looking colleagues.

“Oh thank god,” Theo sighed as he settled into a plush couch, “walking over a mile, in this heat, you couldn’t have teleported us to the castle or anything?”

“I can only teleport myself short distances,” Orlan answered, “would you like a drink?”

“Got any cold otherworld beer?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Protector Lord smirked, speaking to one of the support knights before sitting down across from Theo.

“Do they have magical beer over there? On the other side as you call it?”

“They do, but it would likely kill you, alcohol is a poison and mana only makes it more potent.”

“After that walk I’m tempted.”

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Orlan asked.

“Is it secure here?” Theo asked, looking about the small sitting room.

“Only my knights come here, anything you can tell me you can tell them.”

“Alright… I was contacted by someone a couple weeks ago, belongs to some group called the Sons of Kah-yeen,” Theo said, awkwardly pronouncing the odd name.

“The first mage?” Orlan interrupted.

“What?”

“Kayan, the first mage,” explained Orlan, “it’s a story, or maybe a myth, on the other side. Kayan had a brother named Hevel, back before the world was split in two. Kayan became the first mage and accidentally killed Hevel. As the myth goes, God then punished Kayan by splitting the world between magic and non-magic.”

“That’s… odd,” Theo scowled, pausing as a young woman brought in a couple frosty mugs of beer, smiling his thanks as he took a long sip of the cool drink, “according to the man I ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SpacePaladin15 on 2024-11-02 14:43:47+00:00.

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Memory Transcription Subject: Quana, Jaslip Soldier

Date [standardized human time]: February 10, 2161

Esquo’s Hope was the Jaslip enclave on the Ulchid world, and also the nearest to our prior engagements on the Smigli homeworld. I couldn’t get used to having the Arxur breathing down our necks; my biggest hesitancy was over taking anything that qualified as food to them. Cherise expected to have a rather incomplete diet, but that friendship-encroacher Hysran was happy to show her Yotul and Terran plants that had been brought in case KC herbivores were involved. My primate friend was eager to try the alien food, despite how barebones it was compared to Krev cuisine.  My reservations about compromising the values we stood for weren’t shared by the human.

Regardless, Chief Hunter Kaisal was giving the Ulchids an ultimatum: release the Jaslips, or they would be forced to comply. The three-legged, hypersocial aliens weren’t a military species, and were likely to surrender to us. The trouble was that the Resket fleet surrounding Cieki might have something to say about us rallying troops from Esquo’s Hope, for our eventual raid of the KC’s big players. The Krev and their pink avian enforcers were the real enemy—the claws pressed to the Jaslips’ necks pinning us down, and spreading their lies to justify our deaths. 

What did Arxur know about being on the wrong side of oppression, anyway?

“So Kaisal talked about ‘asserting control over the enclaves,’” I snapped at Zefriss. “What does that even mean? Is your plan for us to bow to you? Because I would never!”

Operative Zefriss lashed his tail. “If it is as simple as you wishing for your own world, then we will see that the KC species all release you. Our kind have been prisoners to the SC, locked away. We…hrr, sympathize.”

A loud laugh interrupted our conversation, as Cherise slapped Hysran on the shoulder in a fit of hysterics. “No! You did not just go there.”

“Did too! So much material with the whole three legs; threes are funny! You know…an Ulchid in a foot race just couldn’t reach the fin-ish line,” Hysran cackled, in another infuriating pun that I couldn’t understand.

“Please. You must’ve spent the whole ride over to this side of the galaxy looking for material on all the KC species.”

“That’s standard for the hunt, Cherise. I never stop thinking of jokes. I like to make others take things…less seriously! Especially when the jokes about these Consortium races write themselves.”

“I’ll bite. Do you have any jokes about us: and I mean the Tellish specifically?”

“Hrr, if there were any good jokes, I was hoping you would Tellus.” 

My blood boiled, as Cherise howled and swatted Hysran playfully with her flimsy hands. She’d looked so happy ever since that damn cannibal had pranced around wisecracking, with jokes that I was left out of by virtue of my language; it was like the human was eager to replace me with the latest, greatest thing. The fact that she wasn’t brooding and depressed after the Arxur arrived—some random stranger shouldn’t have fixed her problems. I’d actually believed she followed me to the JIB for me, but now, I was dirt because I snapped at her once. Once!

“Interesting. Hysran annoys you as much as she annoys me,” Zefriss noted.

I growled, pinning my ears back. “Nice observation. How astute.”

I turned toward the viewport, angling my ears away from Cherise and Hysran. Our confrontation with the Resket fleet around Cieki was imminent, after Kaisal announced our presence with the JIB’s demands. There was no sense concerning myself with things that were much less important than our mission. Just as I had predicted, the militaristic avians were keeping a watchful eye on Consortium worlds, in case the Arxur made another move on our behalf. They didn’t intend to be embarrassed twice, after the dishonor of getting played at Esquo’s Fighters. The birds had come so close to crushing the Jaslip rebels.

The Arxur’s fleet was comprised of drones, and Kaisal’s command ship stayed a ways back; Collective operatives and Jaslip insurgents could board a shuttle to put paws on the ground, if needed. I wasn’t sure that these bloodthirsty menaces would be able to clear the disciplined Reskets, in open combat. The Consortium had an edge in technology, having engineered ships for a century to face the highly-exaggerated threat of the Federation. Perhaps it’d always been meant to use against their own people. There was no leaving, not when that’d make their control slip.

The Krev Consortium will never acquiesce to our demands, even if the Ulchids themselves are unwilling to suffer the consequences. 

The good aspect of the Ulchids being hypersocial was that Aulan had been able to craft a phishing email, and play on that connected nature; it’d gotten us ears into the basic military chatter around Cieki. Kaisal was hailing the Reskets to broadcast his demands, but we could hear their internal dialogue at the same time. On the display feeds, I could see orbital defense platforms revving to life, and the defensive KC fleet bristling with weapons. I had my doubts about this plan; it wasn’t subtle. If we couldn’t take this planet though, there was no hope against the real Consortium strongholds.

We needed more allies than the grays, but they were all we had. It’d be too much to ask for Cherise’s species—the damn humans—to get their hands dirty; Kaisal told us they wouldn’t. I appreciated that they had tried to rescue our species via the Osir Project, but that rescue ended the second they found out we weren’t extinct. Even knowing what we were going through, they’d signed a peace treaty with the Consortium…without advocating for Jaslip liberty at all! Maybe the Arxur weren’t so bad, in comparison to every other indifferent alien.

“Release the Jaslips from under the control of this world’s natives at once!” Kaisal bellowed, as soon as his hail was accepted. I could echo his sentiment, judging by the itch of a growl that constantly nagged at my chest these days. “Carnivores do not belong to you. Free them, and you will not see us loose them by force.”

The Resket commander on screen looked unimpressed. “You declared war on the Consortium back at Omnol. If you wish to negotiate, turn back and handle this the diplomatic way.”

“Diplomacy. Diplomacy. I am not the bumbling Sapient Coalition! I want results, and I want them now—not waiting an eternity for what scraps you might deign to throw us. My demand is reasonable, and I want only your compliance.”

I tuned my ears to the internal chatter, as the avians spoke among themselves. “The Ulchids wish to let them have the Jaslip enclaves; they said they’d be happy to have the trouble ‘out of their oceanfront.’ If those hibernating extremists are so eager to go off on their own, without the blanket of our security, let them. However, it’s not about that.”

“The Consortium was clear that we cannot afford the dishonor of bowing to an invading army, especially after the embarrassment of the Federation’s nonexistence,” another voice answered, on the line we eavesdropped on. “The Jaslips refused to take the civilized route, so we cannot allow them to sow anarchy and make the Resket army a laughingstock. This is not how things get done. The delegates demand that we destroy this Arxur fleet.”

“That’s an order? I respect the hierarchy, but what will the Ulchids think?”

“The Ulchids will get in line for the good of the whole institution; they, of all species, understand collectivism. While I’m not eager to expend more manpower on these dishonorable insurgents who do not respect the rule of law, we have our orders, in no unclear terms. When the Jaslips stop acting like animals, we can reevaluate. Let’s not forget who the Arxur are—the most dishonorable of all.”

“That is true. We cannot let them raid Cieki, and we have no guarantees that the Jaslips will stop gunning for ‘revenge’ even if the Consortium bends to them. Specify our orders?”

“‘Eliminate all trespassers and hostiles from the Ulchid system. Utilize all weapons at the Resket army’s disposal, including orbital defense systems that have been transferred to your control, then help enforce a crackdown on the Esquo’s hope enclave.’ We are well-disciplined and know our tasks. Prepare to fire.”

My blood boiled as I heard the order that the Krev Consortium had passed down, as well as how the Reskets spoke about us inside their own ranks. Jaslips were mere animals to them, because we had no other options to speak up for ourselves. I didn’t even care if Kaisal was going to go out in a blaze of glory here, because we had to give them a lashing they’d remember. If the Jaslip Independence Brigade was doomed despite the outside reinforcements, then it was my new mission in life to take as many of them with us as possible. There wasn’t a sympathetic, kind individual in the Resket’s ranks; the supposedly honor...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/GermanSchanzeler on 2024-11-02 12:29:57+00:00.

In the year 2024, humanity was cruising along, slightly annoyed by inflation, mildly entertained by holographic cats, and generally oblivious to the fact that it was teetering on the edge of a cosmic catastrophe. One sunny Wednesday, when the sun was looking particularly shiny, an astronomer noticed something odd—a solar flare big enough to fry Earth’s electronics like a cheap convenience store hot dog.

“Uh, boss? The sun just coughed up a Carrington-sized loogie in our direction,” he whispered into his walkie-talkie.

“A what?” came the sleepy reply from his supervisor, who was catching a mid-shift nap.

“A Carrington Event! Like the one in 1859, but bigger. This one’s like…Carrington’s revenge.”

Two days later, the world watched in horror as the sky lit up in psychedelic auroras visible even in broad daylight, stretching from Greenland to New Guinea. GPS systems spun like drunken sailors, cell towers whimpered and fizzled, and power stations around the globe spontaneously erupted into smoke.

And just like that, Earth went dark.

The world’s population blinked and collectively muttered, “Oops.”

No more Instagram, no more online recipes for "Avocado Toast 23 Different Ways," no more TikTok dances to obscure ’80s songs. Humanity, without the guiding light of Google and Netflix, staggered around in a collective digital hangover. But as the initial panic died down, something odd started to happen.

In one suburban American town, Phil the Accountant dusted off a 1950s typewriter he found in his grandfather's attic and began jotting down "Spreadsheets for Beginners" by hand, becoming a local legend. In Osaka, a pair of bewildered teenagers opened a paper map for the first time in their lives and marveled at the unfathomable beauty of *analog* navigation.

In Berlin, Helga von Krause—legendary baker and former social media addict—discovered that, freed from the tyranny of online reviews, she could put just as much salt in her bread as she wanted. Her experimental garlic-sauerkraut scones became a hit in her neighborhood. Soon, neighbors were bartering scones for coffee beans and bicycle repair services.

Humanity, rather than spiraling into chaos, began thriving in unexpected ways.

Without a 24/7 deluge of information, people became calmer. They noticed the world around them—the birds, the sunsets, that curious thing called "silence." Parents began telling stories instead of YouTube links, and city parks became the new social media feed, full of news, gossip, and dubious statistics about urban wildlife.

Months passed, and humans started evolving—well, sort of. Deprived of the soothing glow of phone screens, people’s eyesight improved. Neighbors who’d never spoken began collaborating, forming weird and wonderful skills alliances: “You supply the tomatoes; I’ll knit you a sweater.” Crowds formed around anyone who could play an instrument, tell a joke, or share ancient smartphone tricks. It was a strange, analog renaissance.

Then came the big surprise. After a year of “going dark,” the Earth’s magnetic field slowly realigned, and power started returning. And on one cold Tuesday, a single smartphone flickered back to life in a coffee shop in Helsinki. The owner blinked down at it, torn between the instinct to refresh her notifications and the sudden pang of nostalgia for her new friends in the Analog Knitting Society.

A few days later, humanity as a whole realized that its electronic overlords had returned. But there was something peculiar in the air. Yes, people were happy to have power again. Yes, traffic lights and airport schedules were handy. But as the digital hum resumed, a strange thing happened: people used it…less.

As civilization recharged, humanity took a deep breath. Instead of diving straight back into their screens, people started mixing old habits with new ones. They used the internet to reconnect with distant friends but still showed up in person to their new knitting clubs, outdoor movie nights, and barter markets.

And, most surprising of all, humanity retained a bizarrely cheerful attitude. Life without electronics had taught them resilience, adaptability, and that some things—like a perfect sauerkraut scone—couldn’t be found on the internet.

It was as if, in the face of cosmic catastrophe, humanity had discovered the most ridiculous, absurd, and yet undeniable truth: sometimes, a bit of darkness is just what you need to find the light.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BainshieWrites on 2024-11-02 11:39:28+00:00.

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Based on u/spacePaladin15's universe.

Memory transcription subject: Estala, Prestige Extermination Officer, Krakotl to Venlil Extermination training leader. 

Date [standardized human time]: October 9th, 2136

I balanced the supplies unsteadily in my wings: the still warm Strayu brought from a local bakery, a dozen cans of Sprunk, and a large bag of Yatcha root slices. I walked over to the computer station, all but two of the rows of computers turned off during this rest paw as I dumped the supplies on the table unceremoniously, taking my perch and turning to face the only other person in the room. 

Salek, the junior Exterminator I’d last seen cowering in fear during the initial emergency when the predators had arrived, sat at his own screen to my left, the Venlil looking at me quizzically as I motioned towards the pile of goodies I’d brought. 

“So, thanks again for taking the time here since it’s not your normal shift. I need all paws available for this task and every little bit helps, so help yourself. If we’re still here at the end of the claw I’ll order us something from that new Yotul place.”

Sure, preferably I’d have far more of the herd on this project of mine, more than just a single inexperienced Junior Exterminator, but officially this project was just a simple low priority data analysis: My actual reasons couldn’t be known, of going against the current government narrative and the predatory lies that so many Venlil were falling for. So a single Junior Exterminator working after hours would be my workforce.

“You said it was important, that you had a special data project, about the humans. What exactly is so important that it has to be done right away?”

I gave my wings and full body a stretch as I prepared to get to work, my neck giving a small, audible pop before I turned back to Salek.

“Well, as you know, it’s been 9 paws since the predator ‘refugees’ started landing on Venlil Prime, mixing with the native prey population.”

“Yeah, it's been busy.”

Busy was an understatement, the Exterminator office had been overwhelmed with calls and reports of predator sightings from terrified prey as the things stalked the streets.

“Now logically, you'd expect the predators to have hurt someone by now. While we know they can hold off on their instincts from the original exchange meetings and empathy tests, expecting thousands of predators to not fall to their tainted desire to feast upon a planet of prey goes past all belief.”

“But there haven't been any reports of any human violence.”

I gave a small trill of agreement while Salek’s tail flicked around in confusion, clearly not understanding where I was going with this.

“Exactly! That’s the million credit question. Predators have been on our planet, mingling with the public, for over 9 paws now, but no verified reports of predatory actions. This is not good.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? The humans have arrived, and no damage has been done.”

I gave a sigh, feeling my feathers flatten in despair. How naive was this kid to believe everything was fine, with those things roaming the streets of Venlil Prime? This really was the problem with the Venlil, Tarva and all: Far too trusting, no matter what the actual proven Federation science said.

“No reports doesn’t mean no damage. Where are the injured and killed prey? These casualties should exist by now, which leaves only one answer: They’re somehow hiding their carnage. Working out where and how is the only way to stop it continuing.”

I watched as Salek’s ears pressed against his head in fear of what might be going on right under our beaks, the idea of innocent members of the herd being preyed upon in secret by the predators, never to see the light of day again.

“But-but it might not be the case. How do we know that the humans are hurting people? Maybe they’re telling the truth when they say they don’t want to?”

I gave a small soft chuckle at that, looking softly at the young Venlil sat to the side of me. 

“Predators lie, but statistics do not. That’s why we’re here. We need to collate missing person reports over the 8 districts they are confirmed to have refugee centres at. Then we compare that information to historical trends, and then compare those to the same trends of surrounding districts. Then we’ll have proof. It’s just going to take a lot of hard work going through records and collating the data.”

Salek didn’t look convinced however as I finally logged onto my terminal, grabbing a can of Sprunk and getting ready to start my work before I was interrupted once again.

“What if they’re not lying though, and all this is a waste of time? Bradley said that they don’t even have any instincts, that-”

There was an instant as the Venlil put his paws to his lips as he realized what he said, the name, the very distinctly ‘predator’ name causing me to stop looking at my screen and once again stare at the young Venlil.

“Bradley?”

The tone in my voice made it obvious I knew that wasn’t a Venlil name. Salek’s tail flicked around in worry and anxiety as I stared him down, feathers flaring out slightly as I did so.

“I… I joined the exchange program. Bradley was my partner, he’s… he’s really nice.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Sure Salek was a Junior Exterminator, but he was still an Exterminator Inatala damn it! I could understand Tarva or other Venlil falling for a predator’s trick to this degree, but he should know better.

“Why?”

I said the single word curtly, filled with disappointment, making it clear I had expected better from him as Salek continued to squirm under my unblinking gaze.

“I- I was sick of being so… scared all the time! I just wanted to stop being scared of humans of everything! I thought if I actually talked with one, it would help me face them…”

Disappointed. I wasn’t angry or annoyed, I was disappointed. Disappointed that someone from the guild would be so trusting of a predator, to fall for their lies. The seconds passed by as I sat there wallowing in despair, at the predatory taint seeping into Venlil society at its roots. Just what power did these predators have to consistently cause Venlil to fall for their trickery?

“Maam… am I fired?” Salek said the words softly, interrupting my silence, causing me to give a deep sigh.

“No. The Exchange program is government authorized. Why would we fire a government member for participating in such a thing?” I gave a small flutter of my feathers, settling back down onto my perch and looking back at my screen, starting to pull up the records that I needed. “And we still have a lot of work to do, firing you would be counterproductive.”

Salek gave a confused beep, tail twitching in confusion as I motioned for us to start the work.

“You still want my help?”

“Well unless the predators have taken your brain and ability to collate basic statistics, I don’t see why not.”

I ruffled my feathers in an annoyed fashion while Salek continued to stare at me with a blank look.

“Aren’t you worried about me being tainted or something?”

Another sigh escaped by beak as I fully stopped looking at my screen to focus on the young Venlil.

“You are not the first Venlil to be taken in by their trickery, and you won’t be the last. Tarva was fooled by them long ago, and she’s still competent enough to run the planet. If I stopped interacting with any Venlil who had fallen for these predators, there’d be a lot of people I would no longer be talking to.” I said the words sternly and simply, making it clear that while I didn’t care for the beasts who had invaded the planet, I wasn’t about to start fighting the innocent prey they had tricked.  “Besides, I guess it’s good to know that you’re safe, for now.”

“Wait, aren’t you worried that I’d be in the most danger?”

At that I gave a small chuckle, turning back towards the Venlil who was so naive.

“You’re officially part of the Exchange program. If anything happened to you, the humans would be the first suspect. They may be predators, but they're smart. They’re not going to do anything that would break their trickery. The only way they’d hurt you is they thought they could get away with it. That’s our problem, isn’t it? Based on how good they are at lying, you’d have to find a way to to get them to eat you on camera to get any solid evidence.”

I saw Salek’s ears once again press against his head, tail stood straight up as he shook in fear at my suggestion, causing me to give out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not saying do it! I wouldn’t tell anyone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. It’s just… frustrating that with how good the predator’s trickery is, that something this drastic is what we’d need to get solid evidence… It would be an insane idea to actually try, as it would be suicide.”

—-----------------------------

Memory transcription subject: Estala, Human Methods Advisor to the Exterminators.

Date [standardized human time]: March 16th, 2137

I sat in the van, watching the streets of Skalga go by the window while Jkob sat in the other seat. The investigation had been… going. We’d checked on all the easy to find suspects, districts and offices that held multiple easily verifiable Exterminators on our list, meanin...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Conofrac on 2024-11-02 11:25:52+00:00.

Just a little something I thought of and felt the need to write down.

The pub was busy. It always was at this time of day. Most people had knocked off work by this time and we're enjoying their evenings having a few drinks and socialising. There was no tension in the air, aside from the air around one patron, sitting quietly in the corner, keeping to themself.

Velik, the bartender, had just finished serving another customer and was cleaning a glass with a rag. His expression was one of boredom. It wasn't much fun watching other people get intoxicated and have a great time doing so while one had to remain sober and sensible. The small degree of resentment he felt towards the pub goers had somewhat diminished from when he had first started working here.

'I guess it is true, you can get used to anything, given enough exposure' he thought.

There was a noise of exclamation from one of the patrons sat at the bar. Velik decided to alleviate his boredom by eavesdropping on the conversation the exclaimer was having with two others sat at the bar with him. Velik shifted as subtly as possible towards them, stopping only when he was in hearing distance.

"...o way!" he heard. "There is no way they can keep going at, well anything that long."

"It's true" said another of the bar sitters. "I have seen it first hand."

"Also, their ability to recover from almost anything is remarkable" said the third.

Velik, still industriously buffing the glass in his hand, tried in vain to discern what they were talking about.

"What do you mean?" Said the first one.

It was at this point Velik spotted the lone, brooding drinker stand and begin to make his way towards the bar.

"Well, I mean what I said. Physical injuries and mental traumas. They have helped a great many others from all species to recover from similar things."

'so' Velik thought, 'they're talking about a species.'

"Yes but, remarkable how?" The first speaker asked again, swaying slightly on her barstool.

"Well, I mean things like broken bones, concussions, even things like organ failure or having a limb forcibly removed. Granted for those more extreme injuries they require intensive medical treatment, but they have a higher survivability rate than any other species. In recovering from mental traumas such as losing a loved one they show an increased ability to..."

The approaching brooder had by now reached the bar. Velik reluctantly walked away from the conversation he was listening in on, letting it trail off into the background noise of the pub.

"What can I get for you, sir?" He asked politely.

"Another Old Hevert" the man, a Mofarll, said.

"Coming right up, sir."

It was as Velik was otherwise preoccupied that the first speaker, further down the bar, spoke up loud enough for her voice to carry.

"There's no way Humans can do that!" She shouted incredulously.

Velik turned and looked at her, finally realising they were talking about. Humans. Of course Velik had heard about them, but he had never met many and when he had, it was only for brief periods of time, usually as long as it took them to order a drink. If what he had overheard was true, then it was no wonder they had forced the Mofarll Empire to accept a truce. Velik finished pouring the drink and turned back around to the Mofarll behind him, drink in hand.

"Here you are, sir" Velik said, placing the glass down. "That'll be..." He trailed off as he saw the look in the Mofarll's eyes.

It was the look of hatred and disgust. The anger that simmered behind those eyes chilled Velik to his very core. It was the sort of anger that could drive a fist through a slab on concrete. It wasn't the blind, heat of the moment anger, that flared up violently before being quelled. No, this was the kind of anger that had been built up over years upon years. Heat of the moment anger was uncontrollable. Those under its grip made mistakes, if in a fight, they were sloppy and flailed wildly. The fury behind those eyes was controlled, held tightly on a lead lest it burn whole countries. In short, the look Velik saw in that face was one that promised violent retribution if deemed necessary by the look giver.

"On the house?" Velik squeaked. The Mofarll didn't respond, instead taking the drink, downing it in one, leaving some coins on the counter and turning towards the exit.

"Thank you" Velik called after him.

The Mofarll once again failed to respond. His quick, confident steps towards the exit only faltered when the door opened and in stepped a Human. Velik saw the Mofarll's body tense and his hands clenched. This might get rather messy.

The Mofarll were a proud species, very honour bound and absolutely ruthless, in whatever they ended up doing with their lives. From fierce worriors to shrewd businessmen to cunning lawyers to relentless inventors and engineers. The Mofarll may not be the leaders in all of these fields, the best of the best, but as a species they were very good at every aspect of modern life in the galaxy. It was, therefore, a bit of a suprise when their war with Humanity ended with the Mofarll as the ones to conceede the victory.

There was a pregnant pause as the two members of the formerly at war species stared at each other before the Human exhaled and began stalking towards the bar, eyes drifting away from the Mofarll, who turned to keep the Human in front of him the whole time. The Human reached the bar and began to look over the labels of the bottles on the shelf behind Velik.

"You're going to serve this filth?"

It took Velik a second to realise that the Mofarll had been addressing him.

"Well, yes. Why is that?" Said Velik, trying his best to ease any tension in the room with his tone alone.

"It's a Human, that's why."

Velik saw the Human tense up again, his jaw clenching tightly.

'De-esclate the situation, now!' thought Velik desperately.

"I'm sorry but we don't like to discriminate here" he tried.

"You should, against scum like that. Civilized people don't deserve to be around such a dishonorable race as Humans."

"Why don't you try addressing me as if I'm actually here...mate" said the Human, coldly.

"Because you shouldn't be here" sneered the Mofarll.

"Yeah? According to who, hmmm?" Said the Human, spinning around to square off with his counterpart.

"Me" said the Mofarll, pointing at himself.

"Now now gentlemen" Velik tried despite the growing tension in the room. "There's no need to go starting any trouble here."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't start anything. Just like Humanity didn't start the war."

"You deserved to be put in your place!" Shouted the Mofarll, finally losing a degree of control.

By now, all the conversations in the pub had ceased and all eyes were on the pair of belligerents. Then tension that, before, had kept itself to the back corner the Mofarll had occupied had now spread its way across the entire establishment, growing in strength as it did so.

"For what? Not kowtowing to you? Standing firm despite your demands? You're people truly are pathetic!"

There was no shout of rage, no hesitation from the Mofarll, he simply leapt at the Human with a seething fury that demanded retribution. He slammed into the Human's chest, knocking them both against the bar. People nearby scattered out the way as the Human and the Mofarll crashed to the floor in a tangle, swinging at each other as best they could before disentangling themselves from each other.

The Human was first to his feet, rolling across the floor away from the Mofarll before springing up. He darted back towards his still rising opponent and struck with a fist. The Mofarll, clearly experienced in fighting, saw it coming and threw an arm in the way to block it. He was still off balance though so the blow knocked him back down. The Human didn't let up, angling a booted foot to connect with the once again prone form of his people's former enemy.

Velik had just reached the silent alarm that was installed in the bar and pressed it, praying that the authorities were nearby.

The Mofarll endured a few kicks and a couple of punches before he managed to roll away from the Human, under a table and out from the other side. He got back up to his feet and took a fighting stance before the Human managed to rush round the table to strike again. The was a pause of a second as the pair glared at each other, then the Mofarll shoved the table, hard. The edge of the table jabbed into the Human's midriff and the force was enough to wind him slightly. The Mofarll didn't wait for the Human to recover. He jumped up onto the table and dived at the Human, piling the pair of them to the ground again and began raining blows down onto the Humans head who was blocking with both arms. The Mofarll, seeing he wasn't getting through the Humans defenses, opted to instead try to strike at his exposed flanks. This change in tactic shifted the Mofarll's balance which allowed the Human to buck his hips and throw the Mofarll off of him. The pair both chose to roll away from the other and regain their footing again.

"I'm going to fucking kill you" the Mofarll hissed.

From the angle he was standing, Velik was able to see the Human's face as his mouth curled upwards at the edges and split open to reveal two rows of flat teeth. Velik had thought that the look in the Mofarll's eyes has been intimidating. It was nothing compared to that rictus plastering th...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BlueFishcake on 2024-11-02 11:13:44+00:00.

As William stepped into his office, he couldn’t help but feel that just maybe some of the people inside were annoyed with him.

There was his sister, who was sitting on the couch with her arms folded grumpily over her chest.

Xela was… looking a bit haggard. Which was to be expected given she’d both been de facto running his territory while also overseeing the training of more pilots than any other person on the planet beyond the principals of each nation’s flight academies. And while she was training significantly less people than those venerable institutions, she also had access to significantly fewer resources.

Then there was Piper. Easily the least frazzled of the bunch, but hardly what one could call happy. Which, again, was to be expected given that she was to her knowledge working very hard to make sure a bunch of workshops spread about the country continued to churn out machine components with no as of yet discernable purpose.

Then there was his Aunt Karla… who was visibly admiring the gramophone – the second prototype - that sat in the corner of the room churning out its umpteenth rendition of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’. A song he was growing thoroughly tired of, but as of yet had no alternative to given that he’d yet to make any other recordings.

And while he had the capacity to magic one-up with ease, that would only lead to more awkward conversations as to where he’d gotten it.

“William, William,” his aunt chirped excitedly as he stepped into the room. “You have to tell me how this thing works! And how you came up with it! I mean, it’s playing music. But there’s no magic.”

He smiled. Karla had always been his favorite aunt. Mostly because she was both a bit of a rebel and about as disinterested in politics as someone could be and still be a noble. That she was likely here acting as a spy on behalf of his mother did little to dim his pleasure at seeing her again.

“I’m afraid the details are as of yet something of a trade secret,” he said, ignoring the grown woman’s overexaggerated pout.

“Even to family?” Karla whined.

“I can say that I stumbled across the idea during my research of the Flashbang and Spell-Bolt.” It was more than he'd told anyone else.

Karla frowned. “I know things are a bit… tense between your mother and you, but House Ashfield still has a fair amount of production capability. Certainly more than those merchants you’re working with. If you sent the details back home we could practically print money.”

Across from the woman, Olivia winced in her seat.

For his part, William’s smile thinned. “Given that the secrets to the Flashbang spell and the Spell-Bolt can apparently be found in the annals of the Ashfield library, at least according to my mother, I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out without me with just a little reading.”

Karla paled a bit at his dry tone, recognizing the foot she’d just shoved into her mouth. One of the unfortunate downsides of being the ‘fun, devil-may-care fighter pilot aunt’, he supposed, was gaffes like this.

Still, neither of those choices had been his aunt or sister’s decision. “With that said, if either you or Olivia wanted one of your own for your personal use, I’m sure my business partners would be happy to provide us with a few early prototypes – along with a few new songs.”

It was a small olive branch on his part, though it was less aimed at his aunt and more at his sister, whose eyes widened with excitement at the thought before she recalled that she was supposed to be mad at him and sank back into her ‘grumpy’ posture.

Glancing over, he could see Piper clearly wanted to say something, even though the dwarf was holding back. Likely some question as to why he was outsourcing the production of such a clearly lucrative product when he had dozens of workshops churning out junk with no real discernable purpose.

Which was a state of affairs that couldn’t last forever. Certainly, while his people were thankful for the employment he provided – the Alchemists most of all – the fact remained that said gratitude would only keep them motivated for so long in the face of work that seemed pointless.

For one thing, he already knew that some of the more curious workers were already trying to piece together the end result of what the many workshops had been working on. Even if he’d not seen it. That was just how engineers were. And even without any kind of knowledge of internal combustion, some of them would be making progress, if only by treating the the many prefabs as a jigsaw puzzle.

“That would be a queenly gift,” Karla said finally. “One I know that both Olivia and I would be very thankful for during our… sabbatical at your estate.”

“Yes, super thankful,” Olivia drawled, eyes narrowed at him. “Sure, it’s not exactly a duchy, but a little box that plays music is almost as good. Almost.”

Ah, sassy teenage sarcasm. How he thanked the lord that the only one who really engaged with that on his team was Olzenya.

Still, he could see the puzzlement that blossomed in the faces of those present who weren’t his family as they registered the half elf’s words.

“A Duchy?” Xela asked.

Before anyone could say anything else, Karla spoke up in an act of savvy normally far outside her wheelhouse. “Olivia, dear, perhaps statements like that should wait until it’s just family present.”

“S’not like it matter now anyway. I’m here aren’t I?” The girl huffed, before jumping from her seat and storming from the room in a huff.

Karla had moved to grab the girl at the last moment, only to pause. For his part, William had tensed more than a little, eyes flitting about for signs of invisible watchers turned assassins. It was an irrational fear he knew, but he felt it all the same.

Indeed, it was with that thought in mind that he made to follow, only for Karla to call after him. “Give her some time, William. The last few days have been… tumultuous for her.”

William frowned, before glancing to Xela.

“I gave her an escort the moment you arrived. They’re just outside the door and will follow at a discreet distance.”

He nodded, belatedly recalling the slightly larger number than average guards that had been stationed outside when he’d walked in.

And there were things he still needed to discuss with the people present here.

Xela’s plebeian-pilot training program. How Piper’s refinement of their Earth-Blood supply was proceeding. As well as the state of the workshops.

Reluctantly, he decided to heed his aunt’s advice.

Though speaking of her, he thought as he glanced at the woman. If she’s here to act as Olivia’s chaperone as well as a spy, I’ll  be putting her to work on the plebian-pilot program.

No program could ever have access to too many competent pilots. And even with the unexpected offer of aid from House Greygrass, William was still woefully short of the numbers he wanted.

I also need to get the alchemists started on making ammunition for my new planes now that the workshops are running properly, he thought. Which means somehow convincing them to go under a geass.

Which would be an awkward conversation all round. It wasn’t like he could just order them to do it.

Hell, not even the Queen could do that.

…And he only had a weekend to do it.

Yeah, Olivia will probably need to wait a bit before I can get around to her. So I suppose it’s fortunate that it’s not like she’s going anywhere, he thought with grim amusement.

It was barely thirty minutes after he’d finished his tour of Redwater county’s many workshops that he found himself alone in his ‘lab’ again.

Though there were a few new additions present. Prefabbed parts straight from the workshops stood strewn about the floor like so many discarded toys.

And connecting each of them was a bit of steel wire. Haphazardly welded in place, it crisscrossed the room, making the whole ensemble look like some kind of absurd spider web – with engine parts playing the role of flies captured within.

And as William raised the hood of his welding mask, he hummed in triumph as he inspected the weld he’d just made on the final piece.

I really hope this works, he muttered to himself as he moved to sit in the center of the room, hands reaching out to grasp the nearest wire.

“Steel. Warp. Hands. Mental Model. Engage. Instant,” he chanted, feeling a sudden hollow form inside him as one of his magical charges flowed out of his soul and into the void.

Where a hungry Fae was ready and waiting to enact his will upon reality in return for the morsel of emotional energy he’d just provided.

Indeed, it was barely a moment before the world shifted around him. Through closed eyelids he ‘saw’ the entire web of parts around him. Hazy and indistinct, but there all the same.

Anything that was steel and connected to that which he held in his hands.

Which was a little absurd. What he was holding wasn’t just steel. Steel was a carbon and iron alloy. But the metal in his hands undoubtedly held other impurities too. Byproducts of the forging process. Yet unlike the other bits of engine part that were made of different materials  - copper wiring and rubber tubing - that seemed as a void to his senses, anything he considered ‘steel’ was clear to him.

And thus malleable.

Because magic was as much about ‘feeling’ as reality. Which made sense, as Fae were the ones who were really doing all this - and they were all about feelings. It just so happened to be that they were using his mind as the interpreter ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Remote-Ad-2821 on 2024-11-01 22:44:31+00:00.

In the universe, in the Milky Way galaxy, on the Orion Arm, in a Solar System, on the third planet, in North America, in New York, down an alleyway, a homeless man was digging through a dumpster for food. Even though no one noticed, the man vanished.

I opened my eyes to find myself sitting in a very grand-looking chair in some kind of office, with a desk in front of me and another chair behind it. I looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Just a minute ago, I had been searching for something to eat, and now I was... here.

"Ah, good! You're finally here, Markus!" I spun around in my chair to find an old man with a giant white beard reaching his stomach, a gleaming bald head, and dressed in perfectly white robes. The man’s skin seemed to glow, and I could tell by a glance that he had never worked a day in his life. He turned around and closed the door behind him, but just before he shut it completely, I caught a glimpse of thousands of winged people flying back and forth through an endless blue sky with golden clouds drifting by. As the door closed, my eyes drifted back to the man, who was giving me a warm smile. He walked to the chair across from me, took a seat, leaned back, and exhaled, looking at me in silence. After a while, the silence became awkward, but before it went on any longer, he finally spoke.

"So, you want to be God?" he said in an upbeat tone. I blinked in confusion and asked for clarification.

"Sorry, come again?"

At this, he looked a bit more serious and began to explain.

"Okay, look—first of all, I’m God. And, to make a long story short, I was having a drink with a few other celestial beings. I might have had a bit too much and started boasting about how I created the best species and civilization in existence. I bragged that my species was so amazing that any one of them could be a better god than theirs. They told me to put my money where my mouth was, and… well, here we are. I need you to be the god of a civilization to prove I wasn’t just talking big."

Then he continued, looking somewhat exasperated.

"After that, the other celestials started claiming that their species could be gods too. Things spiraled out of control, and we ended up turning it into this big competition. We decided to each choose one member from our created species, turn them into a god, put them all on a planet, and have them take care of a civilization. Whoever has the species with the largest population at the end wins."

I leaned back in my chair, stunned, trying to process everything he had just told me. But one question burned in my mind.

"Why me?" I asked.

At this, God looked a bit uncomfortable before he replied.

"If I chose someone else, their family members would mourn them, or they might refuse. And no one in Heaven would volunteer because they’re already in paradise and would see this as work. But you… you’re perfect. You don’t have anyone who’d miss you or notice you’re gone. You focused only on work, without making connections with anyone."

I wanted to feel offended, but I knew everything he said was true.

"Well, what if I refuse?" I asked defiantly.

He gave me a long look. "Come on, Markus. You spent your whole life focused on your job, and when you got too old, the company you were loyal to fired you because they thought you were no longer useful. Since you focused your entire life on that one career, you don’t have the skills to get another job. You ended up on the streets. Your parents passed away, and you have no friends. You have nothing to go back to. And here I am, offering you the opportunity to become a god, and you’re going to refuse?"

He was completely right. I had nothing to go back to but dumpster diving and barely surviving. Wordlessly, he extended his hand across the desk. I reached out and shook it.

(Using his knowledge of Markus’s life and situation, God managed to trick Markus into accepting the deal. Little did Markus know, he would come to deeply regret making that deal.)

“Did you hear that?” I heard a disembodied, soothing female voice.

“Oh, don’t mind that,” God said, waving it off. “That’s just the Narrator. It’s reading out the universe, but only gods and celestials can hear it. No one knows where it came from or why it’s doing it, and we haven’t been able to communicate with it. Just ignore it.”

(But Markus would come to regret it if he ignored the Narrator.)

"Are you sure? I mean, it’s saying some pretty ominous stuff," I asked him.

"Yeah, it does that sometimes. Just ignore it."

I pulled my hand back to my side, but despite what God said, I decided to keep the Narrator’s words in mind, in case they came in handy. God then got up from his chair and walked towards the door, motioning for me to follow him.

"I’ll explain everything you need to do in more detail while we fly."

I did a double-take. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" I asked, thinking I’d misheard him.

He opened the door again, and I stood beside him as I looked out. I saw the same scene I had glimpsed before: thousands of winged beings—who I now assumed were angels—flying about.

"I… I don’t know how to fly," I told him.

God placed a hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes, and pushed me out

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Undercover_Dragon1 on 2024-11-02 05:57:54+00:00.

I hope you all enjoy Chapter 14!

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— Chapter 14 — 

David towered over the three tiny kobold corpses laid down in front of him. They were down to thirty kobolds now. These three warrior kobolds were the only ones that David couldn't get to in time and it stung at his core. David had ordered their bodies wrapped up, preserved, and for their bodies to be brought with the group. The remainder of the orcs had retreated after their leader had fallen except for three that were captured by Blue. She had quite literally burned their ability to see out with her affinity, and Red subdued them afterwards. They used ropes, and twine they found on the other dead orcs to restrain them. In total they had slain ten orcs and then their leader. The fight would have gone poorly without Red, Blue, the Crusher Moles, and David himself. Their presence had tipped the balance hard in the other direction despite the massive equipment and side difference between the two species. 

The troll corpse had been dragged nearby and it smelled absolutely foul. David knew he should try and see if he could get a trait. This regeneration might be worth it, but it might not? Either way intel was life or death in this world. Reluctantly he began to tear free large chunks of flesh and consume it. It tasted only slightly better than what it smelled like, which wasn’t saying much. He fought down his urge to throw up and was able to swallow enough that his belly bulged at capacity. 

His prompt pinged him a moment later. 

Giant Hill Troll slain and trait available.

Accelerated Healing - Your body rapidly regenerates and heals at super natural speeds. Your healing factor increases by a factor based on your toughness. The higher the toughness the faster even minor wounds will heal. For every 5 toughness your natural healing factor increases, reducing healing time by up to a full cycle. The more critical the injury the slower the healing factor increases. 

Accelerated Healing trait available. Absorb Y/N? 

David sat on his hunches and pondered for a long moment. David had already found a number of different traits. Some were hybrid abilities that offered attribute increases and abilities. Some were entirely focused on boosting a stat like his Condensed Musculature. This trait was clearly one in the entirely opposite direction. It was an ability that scaled off toughness and it could be very good with the right set up. If he was human it might take on average a week or two for a large scrape to heal on his body without any assistance. In his new dragon body his ability to heal was even higher than that of his old body. His toughness as it currently stood meant he would heal from a deep cut in about a day if he snagged this trait, which compared to his affinity’s capabilities was rather pathetic. 

The troll seemed to regenerate before his very eyes during their fight, even if it was a bit slow near the end. David’s mind pondered and he began to do some math in his head. His higher intelligence made mathematics easier thankfully, one of the few noticeable effects. On the assumption the troll base healing ability was comparable to his own, and that other creatures functioned similarly to dragonkind then the troll probably had a toughness of around 25. It would explain his extraordinarily tough skin as well. It was a powerful trait but it had a counter he could already see. Ultimately the greater the injury the harder it will be to regenerate it. If he were to face another one in the future then he should aim to break or sever a limb to slow it down. It wouldn’t be able to heal fast enough before the fight would be over. Still though… toughness correlated to a creature's resilience to an attack, and the higher your toughness the less damage you would receive and with this trait you would regenerate faster too. A very nasty synergy and one he had no doubt other Dragons in this world had utilized. 

With a sigh he reluctantly declined the prompt. 

David rumbled over to Blue, “I want you to cut up and preserve as much of the remaining meat as possible. Only eat it in an emergency, I want to conduct some tests later.” 

Blue nodded her head and gave David a rather disgusted look. David rumbled in amusement, at least he didn’t have to worry about them eating what remained. Next David had what remained of the orcs corpses piled nearby and the entire group settled in for the remainder of the night to tend to their wounds. David provided a hefty second blast of his healing fog for his kobolds to help their recovery. He planned to help stand watch during the day so he retired early while giving the watch to Red.

When he opened his eyes in the morning he let off a mighty yawn. He noticed a few kobolds curled up nearby him and a large, makeshift tent had been erected around him. He rumbled softly as he made his way out and spotted Red still standing watch nearby. 

“Anything happen while I rested?” David rumbled. 

“Master! No. All quiet.” He answered quickly. Red was squinting his eyes in the morning light.

“Go inside and rest. I will watch the camp.” David ordered. After Red reluctantly departed David made his rounds. The valley was as beautiful as ever and they had made it most of the way down the mountain before being attacked in the night. David’s eyes surveyed the battlefield and he quietly replayed the battle in his head over and over. 

After satisfying his own internal anxiety to do better next time he stumbled upon the pile of Orcs. His stomach grumbled, hungry again, and his mind peaked with a curiosity. What sort of benefit could he get from an Orc he wondered? His human side was partially disgusted by the idea of eating something that walked on two legs and somewhat resembled a human and yet… his stomach, and his nose were telling him something entirely different. He gave in and filled his stomach. David was almost certain that either Orcs did not have a trait or he had run out of luck when his prompt dinged in his mind as he finished off the last pile of meat.

Orc slain and trait available.

Strongest Shall Rule - The biggest, baddest, and strongest shall rule. That is the way of nature! If you are the strongest around you exert a dominating aura. This dominating aura can twist many to your command, while at the very least causing those strong of will to be weary and more accommodating of you. If you find another that is stronger than you, you recognize their strength and will feel a strong need to follow or at the very least accommodate their needs till the time comes to overthrow them. 

Strongest Shall Rule trait available. Absorb Y/N? 

Huh. David stared at the trait. This is something entirely new as well and “dominating aura” sounded fantastic. David decided to categorize this new type of trait as a leadership style trait. David could envision using this trait to draw hordes of orcs to his banner but based on what he had seen of orcs he didn’t think they were good for much besides war. If you were the biggest baddest around then this trait was amazing but if you weren’t it also hampered you. He knew for a fact that both the Worm and the Mountain were more powerful than him. If he had this trait he would feel inclined to accommodate them or out right serve them? What would that look like? Would they simply eat him? Would his own internal logic fail him? David had a very bad feeling about this trait. It felt like it led down a path that would remove some of his own will and choices from the mix as he tried to dominate and then overthrow others. He wasn’t opposed to dominating other creatures but he wanted to be in control and he refused to give that up. 

He didn’t regret declining. 

As the day dragged on he used the opportunity to scout around more. He was getting used to his wings and flying in general. He wasn't fast enough to catch anything else he saw in the air, be it birds or otherwise. As night approached the kobolds began to wake up and David used the opportunity to sneak in a second nap. After waking up a few hours later the makeshift campsite had been disassembled and his little clan were all eagerly standing at attention waiting for him. 

“Master. We are ready to leave when you are!” Blue cheerfully chirped out to him.

“Good. What are we going to do with the prisoners?” David shifted his eyes to the two remaining orcs, the third having apparently died from its injuries during the day. After a quick consideration he rumbled out again in his dragon speak. 

“I don’t think we can trust them, Blue. They would probably work for us but we couldn’t truly trust them.” David recalled the trait they possessed. If that was their very “essence” then he knew he could control them but he didn’t want to have to fear them trying to overthrow him or any of his kobolds in the future. 

“Red will fix.” Red chirped in as his spear flashed before David could respond. The back of each Orc’s head was split open and they collapsed forward in a heap. It wasn’t what he had in mind but he supposed the Geneva Conventions did not exist here did they? Holding back a sigh David simply offered Red a reassuring nod and took to the sky. 

The rest of the journey was completed with the moons still high in the sky. The moonlight illuminated the forest in front of the...

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