The Kindred
Chapter IV: Pools of Sticky Black Goo
Author's Note: I'm writing this on my dad's laptop on a crappy wooden table. Blech. I've been hand-writing Pawn and Kindred in my ex-science journal during this little vacation, (since I can rarely type on this expensive laptop, cause my dad is paranoid.) Well, I'll try and put the next Pawn up as soon as I can, but until then, enjoy. (Or at least pretend to, like everyone else.)
P.S. Instead of reading my story, go read one of these:
An Act to Remember, by Snowsilver. She has LOTS of talent, and a knack for comedy. It's the Festival of Time in Clock Town, and Link and his motley band of friends are just tryin' to get through it alive. Whee. Plenty of antics and harmless fun. Don't miss it if you're a Zelda fan!
Shadows of A Broken Life, by SafetyMunkey. Very action-y, dark, and (even if unintentionally) funny! A story about a rather scholarly demon's life in NYC, the exciting fight scenes, undead hunters, vampire chicks, and rival demons should keep you on your toes for the whole ride. And it's one hell of a ride. You rawk Cait!
Magi and Their Obsession with Cream Puffs, by Phantom Pheather. This is an absolutely hilarious tale of a bumbling mage and his antics. Oh boy. Cool action scenes and witty writing. It's better than mine, and now its formatted! (Good job man.)
After The Scourge, by Nebel. A post-apocalyptic story written from a cat's point of view. Very Tolkein-esque, she has recreated society in cattish form, with her own system of measurement, speech patterns and naming rules. The grammar is flawless and the descriptions are vivid and lifelike. Easily the best story I've ever read on FF.net. Unfortunately, there aren't many reviews. Please read it! It's absolutely terrific!
Also, anything by Aloh Dark is a great choice, as long as you're not a homophobe. Hehe… Heh. Kay.
Also, I thought I'd take this opportunity to show you how everyone's name is pronounced. I know it's not hard, but I hate it when people say my character's names wrong.
Skim: Like the milk. Just how it looks.
Rej: The j makes a juh sound, like in Jimmy.
Kitana: (Kit-AH-nah)
Pike: (Paik) Like the word 'eye'
P.S. to Nebel: I redid the sentence structure in this chapter just for you, using the "Verbing, the subject verbed the subject" occasionally. As opposed to, "The subject verbed the subject adjectively." If you like this better, say so and I'll do it to the next chapter too.
Skim sat back on the yew bough mattress of his bed. He leaned against the stone wall of his small home and calmly regarded the poe floating in his doorway.
"You can come in, if you want."
The ghost bobbed once in agreement or thanks and entered the small hut, dragging the protesting wraith with him. Kitana followed behind, keeping as far away as possible from the black wraith as she could. Its gleaming flowsteel claws were still unsheathed, and it released a hollow growl when Kit walked by.
Skim scratched his cheek, which was speckled with bits of hair that had grown in overnight. "So, you don't seem to have too much of a problem with scribes, Rej. Most poes seem to dislike us."
Glancing up at Skim, (it had been toying with its lantern again) the ghost spoke in a surprisingly average pitched voice. It was low for a poe, (that rhymes ^___^) just a little lower than Skim's.
"I don't see why I should," it shrugged, "most poe don't bother with scribes because they're unable to provide shade oil, and some even consider them competition."
Shaking its lantern, it opened the hatch and poked a gloved finger inside. Skim nodded and raised his chin to point at the lantern. "What's wrong with it?"
The poe was still poking at the inside, and didn't look up as it spoke. "Oh, just running low on oil, trying to make it last."
Nodding, the apprentice stood up, opening a drawer on the small wooden desk. The desk was a very reliable one, and had countless ink stains on the surface. There was a skinny, deep jagged hole in the top where Skim had jabbed a pen head into the wood in a fit of rage (Another apprentice scribe, Aiken, had beat him to the actual capture of a baby dodongo, and had conducted a study on it before Skim got the chance.).
With all these battle wounds on the desk, having a drawer or two opened was no great problem. It did slightly resent it, for the opening let in a cold draft, but it wasn't about to express its concerns to the owner. Skim finished his business in the drawer quickly, and courteously shut it when he was finished.
"Here," Skim tossed a small glass vial to Rej, who attempted to catch it. Of course, his catching hand was still inside the lantern, and instead of catching it he smacked the vial straight back at Skim's head, who deftly caught it. The scribe's assistant blinked at the poe, and tossed it back. "Look, do you want this or not?"
"Yes, sorry," grumbling something about evil lanterns, Rej examined the vial. The contents were roughly the color and consistency of pitch, but they gave off a faint blue glow, and the lantern-ghost recognized it as shade oil. "Where'd you get this?"
Skim sat back down on the bed, and waved his hand towards the west, where most of Hyrule was. "Oh, you know . . . around."
The poe raised an eyebrow.
Smiling, the assistant stuck a thumb towards the castle. "The treasurer didn't have enough on him for last month's pay, so it was either take it in raw materials or head to Tsarin Outpost.*"
*A brief history on the Tsarin Outpost: The outpost was founded several years after what was known as the "Emerald Era," the period of time when the Warrior protected Hyrule. It began as an observation post for the newly founded Hylian Army. The army grew and grew, and far surpassed the meager scattering of guards that once was the excuse for defense.
They began employing the undead spirits that inhabited the area and using them as destructive mages. They were code-named P.O.E.s, Paranormal Offensive Experts. Many field operations were successful with these mercenaries, but the Hylians found the P.O.E.s needed something to protect them while they cast their magic. The resurrection of wraiths began, and the P.O.E.s found they could mentally dominate them. The wraiths began serving as guards for the lantern-ghosts, and received a small share of the shade oil.
The Tsarin Outpost grew from a small observations facility into a full-fledged training camp. Soon merchants, farmers, and blacksmiths began flocking to it, and a new town was formed. Miners expanded the Underneath to reach the small town, and trade flourished. The town is still used as a training facility today. (For more information on The Underneath, wait until Chapter V.)
Bobbing once, the poe equivalent of a nod, Rej agreed quietly "Good choice."
"I want some," the wraith whined.
"No, its all mine."
"No fair! Skim, tell him to give me some."
Skim put his hands on his hips. "Honestly, you two sound like whiney skull kids. Rej, share with your undead minion."
"Aw… fine." The lantern ghost a little of the oil into the wraith's outstretched claw. The undead shadow gasped, and pointed an accusing talon at the lantern ghost.
"He got more than me!"
"Both of you shut up or you'll be nothing but a pile of sticky black goo and some flowsteel blades!" Kit had an arrow nocked to her bow, and pointed at the wraith's head. All went silent immediately. The shadow lifted its hands above his head and wiggled its claws for added effect.
"Ooh, an arrow. Real scary."
"Real scary indeed," flicking a switch near the back of the arrow, the cucco farmer drew the weapon taut, and a blast of light enveloped the head. Rej cackled and swooped over to Kitana to get a better view of the action. The wraith was paralyzed with fear, or as close to fear as an undead creature can have, for the holy light was enough to severely wound it, perhaps even kill it. It stared unblinkingly at the arrowhead that could easily be its doom. Well, it didn't blink normally, but if it could it still wouldn't. Not right now anyways.
"Kit," Skim said repremandingly. She lowered the bow for a moment to look at him, and the wraith saw its chance. Its talons flashed as it rushed the unprepared cucco farmer, and a glistening arc of blood spewed forth from her face.
It was out the door into the cold night before she could scream. Skim rushed to Kit's side, who had her face turned away from him. The poe had glanced up when he heard the farmer's cry.
"I can't control him," The ghost said, "He must have found a way to break my hold."
"Then what now?"
"We have to kill him," there was an awkward pause, "Again."
Taking the bow and arrow from Kitana, the holy bolt still glowing brightly, Skim glanced around. He was nowhere as proficient with a bow as the cucco farmer, but he had fired one several times before. So it came as no surprise to anyone that when the wraith shot through the open window, talons grasping for his throat, he sent an arrow screaming through its molten blue eye socket.
The force of the blow caused the wraith to perform a not-very-graceful spinning back flip in the air. Had it been in an Olympic competition, (which occur every eight years in Hyrule, but they're called the Hylian Games) he would have scored an eight-point-six for performance, but lost several points on the landing. It landed on its face. The resulting explosion and flash of light had two effects. They were rather standard effects for explosions as flashes of light, but exciting nonetheless.
The first effect was Skim's beloved and precious wicker chair being set on fire. The desk did not appreciate this, as the fire was rather uncomfortable, and it was having a bad day already what with its drawers being opened and such. The second was the wraith melting. Not quite as interesting as the first.
Rej waved his lantern and the fire turned a lovely shade of blue (The color you might want to paint your house) and went out. Skim examined the remains of the wraith, which had been reduced to a pool of sticky black goo. He picked up the glowing flowsteel claws and was about to put them in a drawer when the poe rushed towards him, waving his lantern frantically.
"Don't touch them!"
It was of course, too late. The flowsteel dove into Skim's wrist and crawled up his arm, across his collarbone, and down his other arm. Both hands glowed faint silver for a moment, then retained their normal color. Skim examined his palms, and looked awkwardly at Rej. The poe shrugged,
"The flowsteel is inside you now, and it won't be coming out any time soon. It'll come out when it senses danger, and take an appropriate combat form. Learn how to use it, and you might be promoted into special forces."
Skim did not want to be promoted into "special forces." He wanted to be a field scribe, like his father. Of course, the man had gone AWOL a few years ago, and had never returned. It was suspected he was killed when researching a new species called Gobbits.
"I don't want to learn how to use these things."
"Well you're stuck with them now. You break it, you buy it."
"They're not broken."
"Well tough. You have them, they're yours. They'll only come out when you're dead. Lots of benefits though."
"Like what?"
Oh, enhanced skeleton durability, increased combat damage, all sorts of great things."
The conversation was interrupted by a small sob from Kitana. Both had completely forgotten, and the apprentice gently touched her shoulder.
"Let me see, I might be able to help."
Turning her head to face Skim, she revealed three shallow gashes on the corner of her cheek. They were bleeding quietly, and she winced as the assistant moved her head to get a better look.
"Well, they don't look too horrible, but he got you pretty good. Its okay now, no more trouble. Rej, know any magic that could help?"
The ghost blinked, "How about 'minor heal'?"
A nod. "If you please."
The poe shook his lantern, which had turned a dark red, and a small blue beam shot out of the flame. It passed over the damaged flesh, restoring it to its former beauty, save for three small scars. Skim smiled,
"There, beautiful as ever."
Kitana looked up at him, "Really?"
Skim edged away a little, "Uh, yeah, really." A nervous laugh from Skim. Kitana yawned, and leaned her head against his arm. Skim turned a pleasant shade of brick red, and slowly put his arm on her shoulder. Rej broke the tension with a quiet,
"I think it looks badass."
The commander easily had more spit in his mouth than Pike had piss in his body. Much of that spit was now on Pike's face and shirt at the moment, but the stoic guard endured the punishment. The little men in his head were another story altogether.
Perhaps the little men are due for an introduction. After all, they function as the means of survival for a main character in the story, making them sub-main characters. Perched on the back of his bolted-down swivel chair was Sight. His vision was very impressive, and a pair of half-moon spectacles was perched on the end of his nose. He didn't need to wear the glasses, but he had decided long ago they made him look more intelligent.
Intelligence was in short supply here, as the old Intelligence had fallen out Pike's left ear a couple years ago. The new intelligence was Sight's pet dog, who didn't fit the bill to say the least. Elbiced and Amora were staring at the small computer screens that had views from various parts of the body. Elbiced had extremely good hearing, and rather enjoyed classical music and Frisbee. Amora had (you guessed it) acute smelling, and baked cookies and brownies on a regular basis (which Taste snapped up before anyone could even look at them).
The new head management leaned back in his huge black recliner and snatched a cookie from his personal tray. The lead engineer dashed through the automatic sliding glass doors that lead into the head.
"Sir, we ate some bad meat this morning! Its bacteria level is unbearably high!"
The product manager turned to face him, "Damn, can we fight it with WBCs?"
"No sir, we'll have to flush it."
"Very well."
"Sir, our eyes are covered in saliva! It's crawling with type Ds!" Sight interrupted.
"Right, get some WBCs out there, stat. I want this whole place spic and span in five! Full flush, right away!"
"Sir," the engineer protested, "Shouldn't we check with Intelligence to see if it's safe?"
Laughing, the manager quickly glowered at the dog, Intelligence, who was growling ferociously as it chewed on a small metal object that looked as though it might explode at any given moment.
"Safe? That dog wouldn't know Safe if she walked up and kicked him in the face while wearing a nametag that said, "Hello, my name is Safe," and screaming "I'm Safe! My name is Safe! I'm Safe I'm Safe I'm Safe!"
All the little people in the head stared at the manager, blinking quietly. Even the sound of Int's frenzied chewing had stopped, and the dog now glanced at Manager, its head cocked to the side. Elbiced coughed politely to break the silence, then coughed again when no one spoke. All this coughing had put a frog in his throat, and he was about to cough a third time when the manager stood up quickly.
Now, Manager had expected the chair to tip backwards and fall over, like in movies. Unfortunately, he had forgotten it was bolted to the floor. The result was banging his knee against the corner of his mahogany desk, and instead of a "So, let's get to work!" there was an ear-splitting, "Lek`Tari!" (Which is a very inappropriate word indeed.)
The commander blinked as the echo faded off into the distance. "What the hell was that? Did you say something?"
Pike shook his head.
Once everything had calmed down, and Manager had been fitted with a crutch and a leg brace, business began proceeding as usual.
"Sir, the meat is still there, and the stomach WBCs can't hold for long." Engineering reminded him.
Somewhere near the bottom of Pike's spinal cord, someone pressed a big red button.
Pike lost his breakfast (Some odd looking meat) about the same time the commander stood up to point out the window. The officer's face turned a shade of red slightly darker than that of a beet. Pike had just removed a hanky from his pocket, and was wiping his mouth clean when the commander began screaming, a large vein pulsing on his forehead.
"Sir, your blood pressure," reminded Pike dutifully. The officer ignored the warning, and managed to throw a griffon-shaped paperweight, six pencils, a dagger he stabbed into maps for dramatic effect, and his swivel chair at Pike's head before he could reach the door. The sheet of bubble glass on the door exploded as the swivel chair burst through it and skidded down the hallway.
Sitting against the wooden door, Pike took a few deep breaths. After a few minutes without low curses and horrible crashing and smashing sounds from inside the room, Pike chanced a peek around the door. The commander had calmed down, and was counting quietly to himself. Pike quietly closed the door and inched away on his rear end, carefully pushing shards of glass out of his way.
Pike has scooted almost halfway down the hall on his bottom when the commander called from his room, "Why don't you grab my swivel chair and get back in here so we can finish the debriefing." The commander was a reasonable man. When he wasn't screaming his head off and throwing griffon-shaped paperweights at your head.
Pike began speaking about the recommended scribe assistants for various jobs, and when they were available. Of course there was one in particular who would affect the outcome of the war more than they had ever imagined.
End Chapter.
Did you see that? I started putting End Chapter at the ends of chapters, so you can tell when the chapter ends. I'm such a great guy. Um, so that's it for chapter IV. There's a lot going on next chapter, and a lot of information to absorb, but I'll try to break it up with some comedy/action scenes with Razor.
Yeah, thanks for the reviews everyone!! Now go read those stories I told you to, god dammit! They're good and stuff.