The Birth of Killjoy
Out in the Rain
The people of the Redmond Barrens were making it home through the rain of Seattle. Orks, Humans, Trolls, and even a very few Elves trudged with heads down shoulders bent. On one stoop outside of the rundown apartment buildings sat seven year old Killjoinesthia. Her long black hair dripped dirty rain, her elegant elven ears poking through. Her tiny frame was drenched and her eyes held the far off look the neighborhood had gotten used to seeing. It was already dark close to 8:30 pm.
A bent over elderly Ork woman approached Killjoinesthia and sat down next to her on the stoop. Waiting and not touching the emaciated child, knowing the little elf would notice her presence soon. After less than a minute Killjoinesthia looked at her stoop mate and smiled a breathtaking smile of innocent greeting. Her eyes once again alive with curiosity and humor. Not the dead look she often had when not engaged with the world or people around her.
"Hoi, Mamma Lykseder how was your day?" Killjoinesthia asked enthusiastically, clearly hoping for good news. "Oh I got me a great haul t'day child. How long you been out here Nessie?" The Local matron mother of the Lykseder Orks asked, taking in the shivering that Killjoinesthia didn't seem to have noticed. Killjoinesthia frowned good naturedly at the nickname. Most folk around here couldn't say her name, so she was just Nessie to them.
Killjoinesthia got that disturbingly dead look in her eyes and then, blinking frowned up at Mamma Lykseder, "eight hours twenty-seven minutes and 31, no 34 seconds. Momma only had three customers today. …" Her young voice trailed off puzzled as she stood to go inside and see why her mother, the only elven joygirl in the Barrens, had yet to call for her daughter. Mamma Lykseder just watched as the kid walked inside, a sense of dread coming over her.
Then she remembered her own clan and their need for the food she had managed to gather today. Shaking off the bad feeling, Mamma Lykseder stood stiffly and headed to her own home. Mamma Lykseder comforted herself with the thought that some man probably just wanted to spend extra time with Nessie's beautiful mother, which of course would mean more money for the two smoothies.
The Lykseder Lodgings.
Mamma Lykseder climbed the three steps to the stoop of the brownstone apartment that the Lykseder family of the Ork clan of the Grunge Growlers gang called home. Pausing a moment to catch her breath and let the pain in her aging joints to stop throbbing quite so much.
'Getting old is a bad idea, oh to be 18 again', Mamma thought to herself.
In her 38 years of life she had seen too much drek, lost far too many loved ones and chummers. She longed to join her mate and the 38 of her children who had died before her. Leaving only her second youngest son Jorn alive today. But the clan still needed her. She was so very tired of all the work and heartache. Every clan member knew that as the eldest amongst them, she knew things. In Ork terms she was ancient.
Finally, Mamma pushed away her pain and painted on a tusky grin before stepping into the Great hall. Ignoring her screaming joints she stood tall and headed for the middle of the hall. She glanced around admiring the work that the clan had done over the last 9 years since claiming this place.
Sure the paint, what there was of it, was peeled. Most of the building was held together by hope and a few other bits and pieces the clan had scavenged or appropriated. All in the entire entire place wasn't all that bad. Especially since, had the building been in a part of Seattle that was actually still cared for by the corps it would have been condemned around 20-30 years ago.
The Lykseder clan, like many Ork clans, adhered to a modernized Viking lifestyle. The first floor off the brownstone had been converted into a Great hall with a huge cooking pit right in the middle. Placed strategically around the pit were the preparation tables. Usually those tables were made of scavenged wood and metal, then banged into shape and fused together.
Outside of those tables were long tables more reminiscent of the Vikings. These too were made of the same scavenged material as the prep tables. All but the high table that is. That one was actually made of a dark hard wood. Only a few sat there Mamma and her last Son Jorn, the patriarch of the Lykseder clan, were two of them.
The Basement was reserved for storage. Storing everything from weapons, tools, clothes, nonperishable foods, armor, cradles, pretty much everything. When a member of the clan died their family was given first choice of all the departed items. All else was then gone through by a small council of the elders to be given out to families in need within the clan.
Everything else went to the basement. Never knew what you may need in the future if only for trade. In the Barrens anything could be found useful. Even if only for trade.
The ceiling of the first floor had been knocked out all the way up through each ascending floor. The pit was also used to heat the upper floors during the worst of the winter. On the roof of the building was an opening that was cleverly designed by a select group of the family, who had a knack for imaginative architecture, to filter the smoke out into the already polluted sky.
Most of their food was often cooked over the pit. Things not needing to be cooked were scattered around the prep tables as most of the women, youngsters, elderly, and injured of the clan chopped, stirred and mostly yelled and shouted at each other.
Momma smiled, imagining the reaction of any smoothies witnessing this chaos. They simply would not understand that the shoves, punches, and yells were all out of love and camaraderie…most of the time.
Since the Lykseder clan subscribed to a modernized Viking way of living, there were many families within the walls, and all pitched in to keep each other safe and well. After dropping off her offerings of the usual Nutrisoy pastes as well as three dead cats, she pulled out her prize. Taken from the communal garden deeper in Redmond of Spinach and Radishes. And not that fake frag, the real thing.
The garden was a dearly held secret the Redmond folk kept from outsiders. Those barreners that had squealed were met with derision from the Corps. They had been met with brutal death at the other Barren denizens' hands. The bodies then displayed near the hidden garden as a warning to all others.
Now no one would dare to even hint of it to anyone now. The Corps just couldn't even conceive of the low barrens people having the intelligence, sense of community, and/or the resourcefulness to pull such a feat.
The assigned cooks all greeted these contributions with great enthusiasm yelling, stomping, and howling in delight. The Cat meant real meat, but the fresh vegetables were a godsend. If such a being existed in the sixth age. Once again they gave thanks that Mamma had pushed the clan to join the share garden despite the opposition of nearly all the other members.
The family thought it would just bring trouble with other gangs. The gangs' working together for the good of all was laughable. Surprisingly, the majority of the gangs showed themselves to be more interested in survival than turf wars.
The gangs, baring a select few, had actually come together to protect and work on the garden. The toughs taking turns guarding and seeing that the workers were given safe passage through all territories. The rule was, even if you didn't come from that turf if you were on your way to or from the garden, you went unmolested.
Every ganger and nonganger in Redmond thought it a great in-joke on the wageslaves and corps. Here where everyone had been left behind. Where everyone was looked down upon by the upstanding, sin users of the Seattle Plex. Well, they had something the sinners didn't. They had fresh pure vegetables and fruits. It was a great frag you to those dreckheads.
Mommas' next duty was to check up on the youngsters on the third floor of the building and make sure none of them had decided to eat something that would poison them. Or done something equally suicidal, as children of any species were wont to do.
On her way up the stairs she passed the Common/Infirmary room, which like the nursery and the Kitchen had been made into one big room. Hearing a commotion she went further into the room from the stairwell.
All the other Orks should either be resting up for runs or scams. The ones with legitimate jobs spending time with their kids or resting. Instead nearly every one of the men and many of the women were there. All listening as her Jorn, the Patriarch of their clan, was speaking.
"The time has come my brethren," Jorns voice rang out passingly, "The other clans of the Grunge Growlers agree. We will strike tonight. Our scouts have watched for weeks now. We know where their lieutenants abide. We know how many soldiers they have. We know where they live and where they play. Tonight, we end the Halloweeners reign of terror on our helpless neighbors. Tonight, we show them that even here in the Barrens there is JUSTICE." Jorns voice ended in a booming yell of righteousness.
The silence that greeted him had Jorn looking around at the confused and blank stares of most of his people. Looking further into the back of the room he met the eyes of the only Troll member of their family, and saw both understanding and amusement in the man's eyes at his plight.
"Um...that mean we geeken' 'em t'night, right?" His eldest son Kyle asked.
"Yes." Came the simple reply from Jorn. He studiously ignored the smothered laugh of the Troll in the back.
Suddenly the room erupted into howls and growls. Orks jumping around, arms raised. Jorn let them work themselves up for a few minutes. Using the time to calm down himself. It wouldn't do if he began yelling about their inability to follow his previous statements. After all, simple vocabulary was strength most days, just frustrating when he didn't dumb his words down a little for them.
He then began giving each their orders, where to go, what and who to kill, as well as the ones to be taken to a warehouse the Growlers had chosen for their trial. Most of whom were leaders, but a few just particularly nasty soldiers.
"Remember our lodge is only handling this area," Jorn circled a two block radius on the map pinned to the wall behind him. "The other Growler lodges have their own areas to handle. You all clear on who to just geek and who to try to take for trial?" Jorn asked.
Receiving nods and grunts from his troops, "Everyone clear on where the trial is going to be?" Jorn asked after receiving consent on his previous question.
"Why we given' 'em a trial? This is the friggen Barrens not the Plex." Kyle spoke the words many in the room wanted to say, but were too intimidated by Jorn to voice. The majority of the others quieted to hear their Patriarchs answer. All pretty sure that Jorn wouldn't kill his own son for asking.
Taking a deep breath, Jorn answered with a stern and serious look. "This isn't a normal turf war. This isn't just about power, or because we want what they have. This is the Halloweeners. The biggest pile of dreck in the Barrens. Time to show them they can't get away with their frag. Time to show we aren't just barbarian Orks. That we are people with hearts, souls, and morals. Only way to show that, is to do this as civilized people. That means a trial. Now get out there and do it."
The Ork troops began whooping again in understanding. Shouts of "So ka" echoing throughout the room. They left more fired up than ever, as they caught on to the idea that they weren't doing this for just than property gain. They were the knights in shining armor this time. And by Dunklezan they were gonna do it right.
Waiting until all the troops were gone, leaving only herself, the Troll, and her only surviving child Mamma Lykseder finally spoke. "Ya sure 'bout this boy? Them Halloweeners ain't right in the head." She sighed.
"That's one of the reasons we gotta do this Momma. You walk trew dat area near every fraggin day from de gardens, you seen what they done to tha folk dere." Jorn answered dropping his hard won educated language.
Halloweeners Territory
Killjoinesthia home
Killjoinesthia approached her apartment dripping dirty rain water all the way. She and her mother lived on the third floor. Just as she reached the third floor hall she was rudely pushed aside by a human in Halloweener face paint.
Glancing up she recognized him as one of her mother's regulars. She also noticed that he had red soaking his gloves and shirt. She heard him cursing into his com.
"Wha' the frag ya mean they ever'where. No way dey move this well this quick without planning. You best get your useless selves movin'. Fraggin' Grunges ain't taken drek from us." He said heatedly as he rushed down the stairs.
Not noticing either the little elf, or the sticky switchblade he dropped in his haste. Killjoinesthia bent and picked it up knowing it was blood. Living in the Barrens she had seen it before. Almost in slow motion she turned and looked toward the apartment she shared with her mother.
Seeing the door open Killjoinesthia ran into the apartment barely noticing the droplets of blood leading into her mother's room. She also failed to notice she still had the switchblade in her left hand. Upon entering she saw a woman upon the bed beaten almost beyond recognition. Slashing wounds were all over her body.
The only reason Killjoinesthia recognized her mother was that her beautiful black hair was strangely almost untouched by violence. Only her lovely elven ears cut off and meticulously placed on the pillow on either side of her head.
For a few breaths Killjoinesthia stood there shocked. Then a moan motivated her into rushing to her beloved mother's side. She sat on the bed heedless of the mess. Killjoinesthia took her mother's hand into her own tiny right hand.
Her mother painfully looked over at her daughter, her breath now coming out in very short gasps. Licking her lips she whispered "I love you Killjoi..." Her final breath expelling, her eyes glazing over.
Killjoinesthia's mother left this world. The world around had no idea the women had not died alone. With her had gone a bright and hopeful child. The girl now sitting next to her body was a new girl, one still named by her mother. There was no Killjoinesthia now, only KillJoy remained.