Inktober 2017 day 13

I’m taking the weekend off. Be back on Sunday. Have a scribble of a house till then.

Inktober 2017 Day 12

Todays Prompt was “Shattered”

Continuing my short story drafts. I think I know how to string it all together for my second draft. I’m going to expand a lot on all of this when I get finished with it at the end of the month.


Reh’cher pulled back the curtain that divided the long obsidian hallway of his keep with the open-air deck of his studio. He had much to do this day, the samples he had were still fresh but degeneration would soon set in if he did not start the preservation prosses. He was surprised to see his pet waiting for his entrance. The great bird stood hunched over, his feathers gone but slowly returning. He had wounds that would not heal, and an orange pus oozed out from him. Reh’cher waltzed over to his creation, concerned but not distort about his condition.

“You fly further and further away from me each time you go feed, Screacher. I worry about you, the outside world does not understand your kind like I. They will try to do you harm.” He said as he began to apply a strange pulsating salve over his wounds. Screacher, the bird, began to crow “I found a morsel, a Glassoid of the wheel variant. He was ripe and pure. Un-festered by the ways of his kin.”

“So, you found a weakling, not uncommon around here. The Glassoids in this region are not of the stronger ilk. They are simpler minds, nothing more. They have not been raised by their progenitors like of old.” Reh’cher replied, circling the bird to find more wounds.

“I have melded with him, we know our thoughts” The bird began to pant.

 “I would take it that he was a most plump one, was he?”  Reh’cher replied, petting his now frantic pet. Screacher began to flap his wings, growing back feathers and flash with each flap. “His core is ripe with substance! Untapped and pure! I must feed.”

Reh’cher ran his long, raggedy hands along his beak. “You are obsessing over just one Glassoid, the valley and hill lands are filled with them. Why not feed on those?  Reh’cher said, unsure of his pet’s motivation to pursue this Glassoid. “Because I see. Because I see! He ripe. Not too old, not too powerful. Just the right age for consumption.”

“I see, so he is a true treat. I would very much like to meet him. Could you bring him to me?” Reh’cher asked his pet, now washing him down with a long-handled mop and water. The bird, now pecking around gaggled. “I cannot.”

“Why? Why can’t you?” Reh’cher said, staring his pet in the eyes. He still did not understand how Reh’cher thought or functioned fully yet. The bird was just a hatchling three months ago and had grown larger and larger with each feeding. His appetite had evolved from milk to flesh, to now raw, living power. Screacher snapped at the air as he replied, “Because I would eat him, and have him mine.” He said.

Reh’cher walked over to his workbench, put on some long-coated robes, grab his tote bag and gazed at himself in the mirror. His features were cracked,  glassy and voidfull. He was not of the Glassoid or any of their spawn but was instead a Hyaloid. His people were most like the humanoids who migrated from the far north. They were outcast, betrayers. Practitioners of the obscene and the unthinkable towards both organic and inorganic life forms alike. They were the reason that the whole of Marun had been shattered, why the great war between the vector erupted, and why fire and bile spill out from the great smile scar that racks half the universe. He had been just a chemist once but after the vector had given them the great gift of master over matter, he became a god. Just like the Glassoids.

Envy had been the primary motivator for his people but Reh’cher was different. His motivations were purely that of the curious deity trying to find the full extent of his powers and gifts. His untapped potential only belied what he had already accomplished. Like his bird, he too hungered. He wanted to know more about how his creations faired, how his chimera evolved. How to both strengthen and tame their awesome might.  As he saddled his bird, he began to take a mental note on what to do when they finally captured the Glassoid. If his pet wanted him so badly, he would have him. Just after he finished his extermination, that is…

Inktober 2017 day 11

Today’s prompt was “run”. I’m basically not even properly doing

I’m basically not even properly doing inktober anymore, I’m just posting rough drafts for a story now. I’m going to get all of the thees drafts together and make it a fully fleshed out short story around November time. Its funny, inktober is about building a stronger drawing habit and instead I repurposed it to build a strong writing habit.

I do need to actually start drawing more, these little doodles don’t count in my opinion. Oh, well.

              Barrel’s hover trike had been hardly driven for all the years he owned it. Not once ever in all that time did he ever venture to go over a hundred kilometers per hour. Now as his speedometer reached a staggering three hundred and forty he struggled to keep control of the raw power of his vehicle.  Just barely avoiding a grove of cacti and collisions with various articles of scrap and debris, Barrel’s focus began to falter. He felt like nonexistent veins were pumping a black woozy venom into his mind. He wondered if it was one of the creature’s methods of hunting and why it had not used it at the radio station. He began to perceive how it was enjoying itself. The throbbing in his mind informed him of the glee the creature was feeling. If this is what the warriors of his people had to face on the regular then he was happy not to be a part of any of it.

            “Glassoid, slowdown. I don’t want you to waste any of your energies by running. I am growing tired myself. I need to refuel.” The creature projected into his mind. Barrel had to do something, and fast. He could not believe that the creature had been able to follow him at this speed. Like an old warplane, the bird flew faster and faster till it finally was a few hundred kilometers behind him. Barrel almost thought it to be a trick of the mind, but when the bird began to throw its molting feathers at him like circus knives he soon started to believe. Receiving communications from Diana about the location of the rollers, and the location of a fortification he could take refuge in. An old bunker, designed to fight off bandits and other cryptids like the bird had been discovered. She had remotely booted its defenses up and had already alerted its garrison on reserve about the bird. There was only five Rollers station there but they were armed, and cranky from being awoken from hibernation. The only bad thing out that was that he was going to have to slow down.

            “Barrel, be advised. Speed limits in this region are a hundred twenty kilometers per hour. You have already passed three speed-traps, approaching your fourth. The fines you have racked up are around eleven hundred” Diana said. Her tone being totally serious despite the saturation. “Wha? What? This is an emergency! Why does the speed limit even mater?” Barrel said, dodging some sleeping creature that was laying in the middle of the road.

           “first responders and emergency personnel are the only ones authorized to exceed speed limits in a crises situation. These limitations are for your safety.” Diana responded textbook cold. A feather whizzed by Barrels right side, hitting his head light and taking his right-side mirror with it. “You are now at thirteen hundred in finds.”

            Barrel slowed, not to avoid his finds, but to make a hard-left turn. He was coming to the bunker. If he was in a wheeled vehicle, he not only would he have been shaken apart by the bumpiness of the terrain, he would have been captured a long time ago. The strengths of the hover trike shined as he maneuvered over jagged hills and rocks effortlessly. Sand and small rocks kicked and swirled all around him, forming a twisting screen obscuring him. The bird threw his feathers at him aimlessly, hitting only shrubbery and the ground. As he could see the front gate of the bunker slide open, he gunned it. Using his eagerness to move in a straight line to the opening, the bird launched one well-placed father at Barrels hover trike. The feather struck the worst possible thing on the bike next to Barrel himself: the hover breaks. Veering out of control, Barrel jumped off from the bike as it crashed inside the bunkers interior holding space at three hundred kilometers per hour.  

            Despite being a glassoid, Barrel had very little control over his transforming ability’s and slammed into the ground in his most vulnerable base form. Ricocheting off the ground, he instantly fell unconscious as his hover trike exploded on impact. The bird tried to storm the bunker but was surprised when a barrage of weapons fire batted him back from the gate. They wounded him before he could muster the strength to do any real damage.  He would have to retreat and waste more of his precious energy regenerating. He grew hungrier with each passing second. He would have to find an alternative meal for now. There were other lifeforms in this area he could devour…

Inktober 2017 day 10

Today’s prompt was “Gigantic”


Things are heating up in the story.  I am having a lot of fun writing this. Feels natural.

As Diana scanned the air with an array of optical devices and turrets, Barrel and the three rollers pilled into the motorpool of the security station. Barrel, still a little-shaken form the experience of being attacked, sat down at a counter and take off his hat. Noey, moving to the weapon locker to requisition a heavier armament began to gripe. “I have always hated these security station assignments, you Glassoids pick the most stupid spots to build this junk. Always attracting things that want to kill us.” He said as he imputed a security code on a locker. Barrel, who was enjoying a soft drink now, slapped his hat back on his head and turned looking confused and surprised at Noey’s words. “Hey, now! Don’t “You Glassoids” me! I’m just a maintenance hand, I don’t decide where this stuff gets placed.” He said as he turned back around on his stool to his drink.  “I just fix it.”

“Corporal, I know it’s frustrating, but please don’t take it out on one of the creators, please. You know how they whine.” Diana said as she followed the real-time video feed of the bird. Corporal Noey nodded compliantly as Barrel looked at the two with an astonished look. Goedy chuckled as Tom peeped out of one of the windows at the station. Tom was on edge, which was common for the rollers but was something that Goedy took note of. As Diana and the corporal discussed the turret placements and how the bird seemed to be avoiding them, Goedy rolled over to Tom. “You seemed troubled.” He began, tracking the movements of Tom’s eye with his own. “It’s just a big, smelly bird. Nothing we can’t handle.” He said with an optimist and reassuring tone.

“You saw the blood, look liked it was spewed from a spray can. Had to have cut an artery on its neck.” Tom said as he moved away from the window. Goedy’s eye showed a bit of worry now. “You telling me not to be a bit worried about a bird, that gashed a hole in its neck, flew away from it and is still flying after it?  Kid, that is troublesome.” Tom finished, his eye widening to exclaim his point.   Corporal Noey, casually slamming his locker spoke. “Calm it down Tom, your scarring the Glassy.” He said, pointing over to Barrel who had put in his headphones to ignore their conversation.  Diana, who had reverted to just being a voice on the intercom, spoke “We may need to rethink this whole anti-air idea of yours corporal” she said rather calmly.  The bird seems to know we are trying to shoot it down. It is staying out of my firing arks, its smart.”  Noey grunted, “Can’t be too smart if it’s trying to eat this guy, plenty of better things out there to sank on if you ask me.” He said rolling his eyes.

Barrel knew they were discussing something, but was too busy trying to relax to care. Glassoids were known for their unrivaled strength, dexterity and wisdom, at least, the warriors were. Barrel had been raised in peaceful times, and thus the prospect of his people’s proud warrior history was not as appealing as it sounded. The group of younglings coming up now were all proud and trigger happy, each one aspiring to be one of the future greats. Barrel’s generation had been the ones that profited out of the great peace the first, second and third era Glassoids had accomplished. What was worse still is that he was now being protected by what was essentially just servants built to guard what they no longer had any true interest in.

Piddling his thumbs, Noey knew that he was not up to his progenitor’s standards, he was being surpassed by the younger generation. He was essentially a middle-aged immortal being outpaced by children. Diana saw the obvious melancholy on his face and reformed her holographic projection to go and sit by him. He looked sad,  pathetically sad. She hoped he would not get the wrong idea by her sitting by him. It’s just that she could not stand to see someone so bummed out by their own shortcomings. That was part of the reason why she did not get on social media nowadays. Noey looked at her with a disapproving shake of his head. He knew her game.

“Hey, look, Mr. Barrel.  You did good work fixing the tower, we would have had serious trouble trying to relay a message back to home if you did not do such a stellar job. Thank you.” She said, moving a bang of digital hair from out of her face. Barrel thwittled his thumbs some more. He had been around long enough to know when someone was being disingenuous, especially when it was a cold-hearted communication A.I. “Shouldn’t you be monitoring the view cameras?” He replayed dismissably like she wasn’t even a real object. Diana disappeared angerly with a poof, leaving Noey a hysterical laughing wreck.  Goedy laughed softly as tom just shook his head and looked at Barrel.  “Now you have done it, she’s never going to get over that.”

“Quiet goons, we have new movement. Look sharp.” Diana said, forgetting about the past few moments instantly. The trio of rollers scrambled to man defensive positions around the security station as Barrel jumped to his feet. Diana quickly had one of her servant drones throw him in a safe room and locked the door. Starting to panic a little Barrel began to think about the communication station and how easily the bird crushed it. The security station was larger and way more fortified, but the thought of the bird effortlessly tearing it apart hunted him.  He had to get out.

As gunfire erupted and the station's drones and automatons began to act, Barrel could feel a cold chill creep into his being.  “You seem like you are a jolly fellow, nice to meet you,” it said in a cankered and deeply rumbly voice. Barrel wanted to scream, but it was as if a hand was placed over his mouth and through, preventing even a murmur. “We want you. We want your core. Your “artificials” do not satisfy us. We need the real thing.” Barrel became weak at the knees. He felt like he was asphyxiating, despite his species not even needing to breathe. He could already feel the beak of the creature breaking open his glassy body to get at his core. His life essence spilling out. His thoughts, being silenced.  

He felt like he was falling into a coma as the door was torn off its hinges and corporal Noey grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Good news is that reinforcements arrived, bad news is that they his! It’s time to book it, sir!” he said as he fired his auto-burst rifle over his head. He dragged Barrel from the interior of the station, that was awash with the orange blood and feathers form the murder of its avian kin, to the mother pool. Goedy and Tom covered them as Noey threw Barrel onto his hover trike.  Tossing him a large rifle-like weapon Noey shouted in-between burst of his weapon “You’re bait! Drive like a mad man till you get to the bridge, turn around, and shot that SOB! We are going to keep these damn crows off your back and then shoot him in his!”

Barrel exclaimed “This is crazy! What kind of cooked up plan is this?” he said with his hands in the air. As the two ducked a dive bombing crow that was quickly shot to pieces by Noey, the corporal shrugged and shouted “Not my plan, Diana came up with it. I think she is mad at you!” and then kicked started Barrels hover trike.  As he speeded down the hill the bird knew to give chase. He would have his quarry, one way another. Before leaving, however, he made certain that the rollers or any of their robotic pets would not be giving chase.  Molting and regenerating all his feathers several times, the bird made a new gigantic murder of crow like minions. Content in their ability to do harm, he took flight after Barrel, ready to let his talons take his hart.



Inktober 2017 day 9

Today’s prompt was “Skreech”

I am enjoying writing like I never knew I would. It’s fun. I am also enjoying freehand brush pen, really fun.

“Mister Barrel, come in. Please respond, Mister Berrel?” The security stations digital assistant and ancillary casually broadcasted on the intercom. She, like everyone else at the station, had heard the loud screech just after Barrels combinations had gone dark. Knowing that something was gravely wrong, she materialized into her holographic projection to deliver her report to her comrades. Corporal Noey had been scanning the hilltop with his hyper-reality visor. He could just barely make out the black stumbling creature in the distance, clumsily taking flight from the tower.  Lowering his visor, he pondered the fate of Barrel.

“Diana, how strong is the com-signal?” he said taking another look through his visor in hopes of seeing Barrel coming down the hill unharmed. Diana checked the signal strength, it was all green. “Sir, Mr. Barrel seemed to have fixed the tower, despite it still looking rather shabby.” She said flicking her hair to accent her last remark.  Noey made what passed as a sigh for roller constructs, and turned around sharply. “Specialist, send out a long-range com to home-point. Let them know we have a cryptid out here. Goedy, Tom and I will go see if we can find out if Barrel’s still with us.”

Goedy and Tom were both on standby, polishing equipment, and armaments as they waited for orders. Not even needing specific instructions they rolled over to their equipment stations and began to prepare. Diana closed her eyes for a split second to prepare her message and the opened them sharply with a flutter.

“Message sent sir, shall I accompany you?”

“No.” Noey began. “See if you can find a defenses turret out there that are covering this area and have it support us. Scan the skies just in case this thing comes back.”

Diana replied with a nod and began her search. As Goedy and Tom formed up on the corporal they began to exit the station with due-haste.  Moving up the hill with a top speed of 80 kilometers per hour the trio made it to the hilltop in no time. Berral’s hover trike and data pad had been ditched, and, were the com-towers operation station was, layed jagged shards of glass and concrete throne. feathers and a bit of orange, jelly-like blood accented the seen. It looked as it had spurted out of the creature in a high presser jet. Another thing Noey took note of was the smell. He had been around organics before. It’s hard to forget the funk of some of them.

“Corporal, look up. By the ruins.” Goedy said pointing with his shoulder weapon. It was a splash cannon; A long barreled explosive weapon designed to take out larger foes or tightly clustered swarms of smaller ones. It would come in handy against the later this day. Sighted in, his data feed streamed information on Barrel as he appeared, arms raised and eyes widened from the rubble. The trio lowered their weapons with a snap and went to assist the reeling Glassoid. Shaking as Tom went to inspect him with the medical interments he had, Barrel began to tell about his ordeal.

The bird had tried to scoop him up, but clumsily it gashed itself on the glass and knocked its head on the structure’s interior before giving up and retreating. Noey listened to his story as he awaited Diana’s update on the bird’s location. Barrel had transformed into his secondary form, a wheel, and skirted off to the other side of the station, avoiding the beak and talons of the bird. If he had not had the gifts of the Glassoids in the one instance he would have more than likely been lost.

“He is only shaken, seems fit to move.” Tom said as he finished his examination. Goedy scanned the surrounding shrub and bush, hoping to get a lock on the creature. “Corporal, I don’t see the thing, but man did it leave a stink. I’m glad we can shut our noses off.” He said, sighting in on some slight movement in the brush. Glassoid creatures, large mouse-like organisms know as skippers were observing them. They had a nasty habit of using the long horns on their heads as conduits to fire shafts of light at whatever startled them.  Goedy lowered his splash cannon and began to scan again.

Helping Barrel to his trike, the group prepared to leave. As Diana delivered an urgent message.  Noey listened intently as they ascended down the hill.

“Corporal Noey, you and your team have been given a kill order on the cryptid in this area. Reinforcements are incoming. Hold at the station until arrival. Over.” Diana relayed.

As they made their way down the hill, the bird watched from far away. Soring with the sun to its back it leaked the last droplets of orange blood from his wound on its neck. It had been healing rapidly, leaving a smoky pus behind. It would need to feed on something to recover fully. The energy inside the core of a Glassoid would do nicely. With its vision expanding farther than a normal avian, the bird observed the moving group of reinforcements heading up to the station.  It would take them some time to get there, long enough for it to strike. It let out its ghastly screech again and began to swoop.

Inktober 2017 day 8

To days prompt was “crooked”

I wanted to just do a sketch of a com-tower, but I think I will do a little bit more than that. I’m going to be working on this one all week, then compile it as a completed short story.  A thousand words in an hour. I would say I’m improving bit by bit…

Dust formed a cloud around Barrel as he powered his hover trike up the hill. Drab, thorny shrubbery decorated the countryside, offering its dented browns and greens as contrast to the badlands pail hues of orange. The air was hot and dry but there were shade and streams of water to provide relief. The despot carcasses of old vehicles accompanied ruined sheds and camp structures. This area had not had any visitors for around six months now. Robotic automatons and glassier constructs were the only ones maintaining any sort of order here now.

As Barrel made his way to the checkpoint leading up to the com-tower he stopped to investigate one of the more well-kept security stations.  Three roller rovers were on guard performing their normal rounds. They were the standard units, all the same, lightweight construction, and coloration. They were a splash of light transparent blue with blotches of a deeper ocean color. Barrel thought they were a mismatch for the warm shaded desert environment, but with the right optical camouflage, anything style of glass was practical. Plus, there was nothing to hide from out here, or so he thought.

Their round heads swiveled on their spherical, rolling bodies as the corporal of the three moved met him at the gate. His auto-burst rifle had been modified down to have a shorter snub-nosed appearance, a favorite feature among the rollers. Barrel hoped off his trike, his tools and equipment rattling with the action. He had a tool for every type job, even if he was not trained to do it. As the tinker for this region, he had the boring, but well-paying job of inspecting all the non-glassier constructed equipment in this and the next two regions. The rollers sized him up, a threatening and annoying gesture to some but one that was pre-programmed into all their class. Barrel fixed his worn out baby blue mechanics hat on his head and walked to meet the Roller halfway.

The Roller saluted him and presented himself as OAB-549, or corporal Noey to be more casual.  Barrel shook his now extending hand began to inquire about the tower.

“Okay unit, tell me, just what in the world has been happening out here? First the gen-core in the riverbed, and two control nodes on the way up here. You guys letting the wildlife have a feel day out here or am I missing something?"  He said, scratching his head as he scanned the horizon.

Noey saluted again and began to respond “Started ‘bout three days ‘go sir! Goedy OBY-461, Tom OYX-778 and myself all were bunkered down during that wind storm the other day, sir. We have had them before but this one was something fierce. We heard when the tower got bent, sound like something slammed into it. It’s in good shape, power linkage is still good but it needs some calibration if you ask me, sir.” Noey finished as he eased himself.

Barrel had been filling out his data-pad with notes and observations of the area. He knew it was ramshackle out here, but not this much. He would have to tell his bosses what was going on out here. The Com-tower was the only one in this region and was vital for the few settlers that did live out here. It would be easier if they had moved to the outpost with the rest of the colonist, but to each there own, he liked to say. After taking a few more notes, asking a few specific questions about the region's maintenance and having a snack with the rollers, Barrel set off to do his repairs.

As he rode up to the tower he could see it’s slightly crooked slant up close. From afar he could see that it was obviously damaged, but from here, it did not look too bad. Hopping off his trike he stretched and looked for a way up the tower. He saw two long cables connecting the tower to the service station nearby and proceed to repel himself up one. Pulling out his repelling tool he easy zipped up the line and landed on one of the crooked platforms up top. He noted that there was once a ladder that was attached to the scaffolding but had seemed to have been torn off by the winds of the storm. There were also a few scratches and dints in the tower, most likely form rocks and pebbles being blown about.

The odd thing was the feathers. They were black and musty and had some strange oily substance covering them. Barrel was no outdoorsmen, but he knew for a fact that no fauna like this existed out here. Most of the creatures should be Glassoids like himself. He shrugged it off and began to work on the com-tower bit by bit. As he finished realigning the dishes and fixing bent antenna, he proceeded to correct the crooked alignment of the tower by compensating for it with the onboard projection software.  As he attempted to use the computer terminal, he was taken aback to find that it had been busted out. It was as if someone drove a stake into it out of spite for it being there. Undaunted by this, however, Barrel simply pulled out his datapad and began to do his adjustments from there.

Freely jumping down from the tower, Barrel landed right next to his hover trike. Stretching again before getting on his bike he stopped to look at his handy work. The tower was still crooked and bent, but the data readings indicated that it was reweaving optimal signal again. As he swiped at his datapad in search of more work sites, a massive, dark shadow flew over him. He looked up in the air on to have his eyes be greeted by the rays of the mid-day sun. Barrel was unnerved, nothing like that was supposed to be in this region. He had never seen anything that big before, at least nothing organic. Barrel got on his communicator and radioed down to the scurry station. The station’s digital ancillary was the one who picked up his call. Staying calm, Barrel began to speak, just as the caught a whiff of the strong musk from the feathers falling.

Instinctively, he ran to the small shack that housed the com-towers radio station. He could feel its hot breath as he slammed the door behind him. Diving under the control deck of the station he tried to hide, knowing that the creature was still lurking right out the door. As he tried to radio down to the scurry outpost for aid, the sounds of loud glass interrupted him as he flinched in shock. The smell of must filled the room followed by a screech...

Inktober 2017 day 7

Todays prompted was shy.

I almost forgot about this one, so I had to do something really quick.  I think this is the fastest I have ever typed up anything in my Life, next to essay drafts.  Hope I caught all those typos.

The chimera pulled at Juno’s hand impatiently as he walked her down to their destination. Her hand was clammy and scaly and felt so thin and brittle that Juno did not want to hold it out of fear of breaking it. She was at least five years old, by chimera standers, and bore no marks of servitude to the Oggnear or any of its houses. She was tall for her age as well, at least as big as a 10-year-old human child. From his experience, Juno could tell that she was a natural born chimera as appose to one grown in the vats. She was tamed and timid and was extremely shy.  Her hair was a large woolly clump on her head, and she wore a large scarf to hide her wide mouth and fritting teeth.

When he first spotted her hiding in a drainage ditch, she jumped out at him and began to cling on to him like an infant. He had almost shot her, but as he felt her scurry around him like a lost rodent he instantly felt pity for her.  His squad laughed at him at first but after seeing the chimera quivering in his arms they quickly changed their tone. The Shock and fear from surviving the initial bombardment of the planet must have been too much. She must have had a mother, or caretakers down there. Juno fretted to think of what had happened to them.

Juno could not help but feel like a barbarian. As justified this war was, and as treacherous and wicked the Oggnear was, this was just too much. They had annulated at least 90% of all the inhabited portions of that world. The death tolls were on the rise. As she looked up to him he could see those dark pitted eyes of hers begun to realize the gravity of their actions herself. Juno would not be surprised if she grew to hate them, grew to hate him. Ever since they brought her onboard and cleaned her up she had been more reserved. The sight of so many Glassoids carrying arms must have been unnerving. Some even had the grim and gore of battle on them.

Glassoids were meant for war, just as the Chimera. Their Ka-ka-ju masters had already abandoned them before they had even entered the system. A wise and tacitly necessary move, but ruthlessly cruel and uncaring. Juno was one of the first of the Circle’s Grenadier detachments that landed on Cel’ear and thus saw the devastation first hand. A Corporal with 3 prior campaigns under his belt Juno was accustomed to the Glassoid way of war. With so much untapped resource and potential on Cel’ear, it would have been a waste to destroy it with any of the Steller engines they had on hand. Over 30 million Constructs and at least 6 million of the circle’s finest touched down on Cel’ear to bring retribution. The Chimera did not even put up a fight.

Juno had brought the Chimera onboard to be cleaned up and evaluated by the Medicos. He volunteered to be personally reasonable for her and to take care of her till they returned home.  As they left the more populated quarters of the ship, Juno began to think about her future. Left to the Oggnear, she would have been a servant or maid, or worse, breading stalk for the other chimera. With the Circle of rounds, however, she had a chance. The Medicos had evaluated her and gave green marks all around. She carried no plague or diseases and was not implanted to be a sleeper agent from what they could tell. She could be integrated with organic society, or be raised by a Glassoid family.  He had thought about being a caretaker for her, but with the conflict becoming more heated, he doubted he would survive to see her grow. Still, he looked down at her to meet her eyes he thought about a good name for her.  Shy was the only name he could conjure at that moment, but seeing her eyes return a look of approval after first hearing the name, he felt like it was a good chose.


Inktober 2017 day 6

Today’s prompt was “Sword”

No writing today, trying to enjoy my weekend early. I may write something longer for the next prompt.

Inktober 2017 Day 5

To days prompt was “Long”

I’m setting this one in my MARUN universe I am working on. I just created this species the Lo-Long last night after sketching the page for today. I will have to stat them out at some point.

Anyway, enjoy.


The Lo-Long was one of the more “normal” species the Glassoids have met in their travels.  Nuzzled deep within the realm of Amber Ridge, the Lo-Long was well concealed from the reach of the Gar-Fang empire and its slavers.  They were proud and noble to a fault and acted respectfully in all matters of state and formality. The sincerity and honesty they projected instantly made the Glassoid delegations  favor them. Being somewhat pleasing to look at helped in some regards, but overall it was their earnest nature that was their most attractive feature. They had some oddities about them, like the smell, but all organics smelled to some degree so that was only natural.

Diplomacy with them was simple. Being just barely a class 3 civilization, the only things they were focusing on was colonizing and expanding their people’s influence across as much of the realm as possible. The Glassoids had warned them about the encroaching dangers of the fang and how too much exploration outside the safety of their system would result in an inevitable and bloody confrontation. Still, they insisted on travel and, not ones to deny the rightful curiosity of a fellow sentient species, the Glassoids elected to act as guides to the Lo-Long.

            Now, they journeyed together. Trading ambassadors, customs, ideas and most importantly, arsenal with one another. The Lo-Long were not as warlike as the Glassoid, but they soon would learn to be. With the likes of the Gar-fang and its mysterious neighbor the Gesur-Blank just outside their northern borders, they would need to be prepared. Stronger and more aggressive enemies ruled far beyond thier simple sphere, ones that even the Glassoids have yet to best. The Tides of the Oggnear and the clamp of the Vortex Accord ravaged the northern quadrants in an ever-blazing dance of war.

Still, the Lo-Long was not detoured. Collectively, their species accepted their new role of students to the masters of the cosmos. The realms of Marun were calling them, and they answered.


Inktober 2017 day 4

Today’s prompt is underwater.

I am sicker than I have ever been today so no writing for today.