Bottomless [Chapter Three]

The interior of the eatery, named simply 'Pig Feed', was a sloppy place. Where the common races sang and cheered over tales of great adventurers of battles, here the goblinkin screeched and roared over battles lost. Goblinkin were the type of people who'd slit your throat because of a dirty look. Skrog hated the port district but he needed food and figured his chances of getting it were greater here than in the other districts. 

The screeching was sombre and the smacking of lips as the patrons devoured their food filled the eatery with a savage kind of urgency. Skrog made his way to the bar, trying to ignore the dirty looks from the goblins he passed. When he stopped in front of the bar an old hobgoblin woman stood with a hunched back on the other side.

"What'dya want?" She asked in a shrill voice. 

Skrog looked behind her and saw hobgoblin workers slaughtering cattle and various types of birds. Then they'd toss the usable bits to another set of workers who were frying them. Skrog's mouth watered.

"I'll take as much as this will get me." He said and handed her a silver coin. He noticed a goblin near him eyed it greedily. Skrog turned his back to the goblin. Then he felt a thin bonelike hand press against his shoulder. The hand turned him around. 

The greedy eyed goblin stood in front of him with a shiv made of filed down bone in his hand. Skrog straightened. This was not going to end well.

"You gotta lot a coin don'tcha, HALF BLOOD?" The goblin asked in a western dialect of goblintongue. It was a vile language to begin with, but this dialect made Skrog disgusted. "Give 't up."

The greedy eyed goblin waved a hand toward himself, ordering Skrog to toss him his coin purse. The other still clenched the shiv tightly. Skrog glanced at the old hobgoblin, but she had stepped backward and was surrounded by the workers. Each of them looked at Skrog with the same greedy look as the goblin.

"I just want my feed for the day." Skrog said in his southern dialect. That seemed to upset the goblin.

"Didn't ya 'ear me!?" His voice started to rise in both pitch and volume. "Give up th' coins!"

Skrog glanced around the eatery and saw that other goblinkin were on their feet and nearly all of the patrons were looking at him like he was their next meal.

Skrog raised his hands, one with the rosewood staff in hand, and said as politely as he could,

"I don't want any trouble." He took a step backward and bumped into something hard. He glanced up and saw an orc behind him. 

He heard movement in front of him.

He looked forward.

The goblin lunged at him.

The shiv darted toward him.

Instinct kicked in.

Skrog extended his free arm and grabbed hold of the goblin's wrist. He swung himself into the goblin's body so that the goblin was now behind him. He guided the goblin's shiv into the orc. It slid into his stomach gracefully.

The orc roared.

Skrog saw the orc's left arm move. He ducked as the massive arm swung at him. The goblin wasn't so observant. Skrog heard the bones in the goblin's face shatter as the orc's fist connected with it. The next thing Skrog heard was the goblin slamming into a table next to them.

Skrog pressed his staff against the ground and flipped himself over the bar. He felt the wind of another orc arm pass narrowly by him. He landed on the side where the old hobgoblin woman was standing. 

The instant his feet hit the ground he was running.

He saw the entrance and bolted for it. He heard feet slapping against the wet floor behind him. His heart was in his throat and his veins felt like they pumped fire. The door seemed to be forever away, but he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

He saw another orc stand in the entrance and fold its arms. Skrog didn't slow his pace. He shoved his free hand into his leather pouch and grabbed the only vile in it. He chucked the vile at the orc. As the orc extended its arms to grab it Skrog swung his staff. Just as the vile landed in the orc's hands Skrog's staff crushed into them. 

There was a flash of light.

There was a sonic boom.

And in that instant the orc flew backward into the street. He skidded against the wet and eroded cobble stone until he smashed into a neighboring fishery building. He didn't quite break the iron walls of the fishery, but he dented them something fierce.

Skrog didn't stop running until the had reached the center district.

-Jestro

Bottomless [Chapter Two]

Skrog approached what appeared to be a dilapidated three story shack in the center district of Hamwall. It resided on the main street and attracted quite a lot of business. The old man sold various types of nonmagical herbal remedies, all of which were purchased eagerly by the city folk.
The front portion of the shack was like a small shop, it had shelves filled with vials that ascended from the floor to the ceiling. Inside the place smelled of a variety of different herbs and spices. Skrog was sometimes taken aback by the intensity of the smell, but not exactly the smells themselves.
The back door was where Skrog entered. It was made of solid mahogany and fortified with massive iron railings. A rusted iron bolt lock kept the door sturdy. Skrog slid it off the door and opened it. In the back the smell was fainter, but still intense after being outside on the streets of Hamwall. Skrog closed the door behind him and walked up the first flight of stairs. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed them.
"You made it back alive." The old man said with a rough chuckle as Skrog entered his laboratory. The room looked like a library with an assortment of strange devices for making potions in the center. The walls were stacked with tomes and rolls of parchment in every language Skrog could read and hundreds more in languages he couldn't. He walked toward the old man and set his pouch on a desk.
"That isn't funny, old man." Skrog said with sincerity. "I could have been killed."
"But only if you had been a patron once prior." The old man said as he walked toward the pouch.
"But why have me go to a place like that to begin with? Would it not have been easier for me to find the mint in the bazaar?" Skrog threw his hands in the air.
"Why didn't you?" The old man asked with a child like honesty to his voice.
"I-I-I don't know! Y-y-you told me t-t-t-to-"
"That's quite alright, Skrog." The old man hushed the half-goblin. "You know I can't stand that nervous stutter of yours." He lifted the pouch and turned it upside down. The contents fell onto the desk. Skrog let out a sigh.
"But this is the best mint in all of Hamwall. And the mint is the most essential part of this particular potion." The old man began to rummage through the haul. "And sometimes its better to go through the hardships of finding the best than to go through nothing at all for something mediocre."
"I suppose you're right." Skrog said as he leaned against a nearby desk. The old man touched one of the troll teeth and turned to Skrog, confused.
"What are these doing in here?" He asked.
"They were on your list." Skrog replied.
"Were they?"
"Yes."
"Oh, my!" The old man began to laugh. "I had intended for Vola to acquire them for me."
"But you know she hates cemeteries!" Skrog shouted.
"The mystery of how the troll teeth ended up on your errand list has been solved then, my boy." The old man lifted up the two silver coins in the haul on the table and tossed them to Skrog. "Here."
"Wha?" Skrog clumsily caught the coins.
"Consider them a bonus, for being such a good errand boy." The old man snatched up the mercury and the mint and waddled toward one of his strange machines. "I never thought you'd actually go to Sky Hook's. I'm proud of you."
Skrog felt a strange feeling in his heart, as if some kind of delicate hands were tugging on the strings that held it in his chest.
"Now get out of here before I reconsider that raise and get yourself something to eat." The old man said to Skrog. He snapped out of his sentimental moment of silence and adjusted himself.
"You're right." He replied. "I'm starving." Skrog started walking toward the stairs. He turned back to face the old man. "What time should I be in tomorrow?"
"Oh, let's make it day break." The old man said with his face pressed up against a machine with glass tubes protruding out of it and steam slowly streaming out of them. Skrog waved to the old man and left his shack, locking the back door as he went.

The roads in Hamwall were still a bit more empty than normal due to the rain, but the skies were letting up and more and more people began to fill the streets. Skrog wore the robe and colors of the old man, when he asked him about it once the old man replied,

"The robes of an apothecary are a symbol of healing. Like all Mages, we serve a purpose. Now my healing may not be one performed with majik, but it is still a form of healing. People will seldom forget a healer, regardless of their race."

Skrog would often replay this bit of advice in his mind from time to time. These were tough streets and the level of hatred between the goblinkin and the common races was still very high, even though the Great Goblin War had been over for nearly two decades. When he began working for and studying under the old man, Skrog had asked for a weapon.
"I'd feel much safer on these errands with a weapon on my person." He told the old man.
"Yes, indeed." He replied and walked into a pantry. When he returned he held a slender staff made of rosewood. Skrog's heart dropped.
"Is this it?" He asked when the old man handed it to him.
"Absolutely, my boy." The old man's demeanor changed. "A mage must never look menacing. We are healers, let the warriors radiate fear with each step."
Skrog examined the staff and the old man continued.
"You are, no doubt upset with this, Skrog. But let me tell you something my master had taught me when I was in your position." The old man sat on a nearby stool in the workroom and removed a pipe from his robe. "Every weapon has a name. When you've used the weapon long enough it will tell you its name; and not in the sense that it gets a voice and speaks it to you, but in the sense that suddenly a name will pop into your mind and it will just seem right."
The old man lit his pipe and sucked on the bit until the embers in the bowl were a bright orange. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a long stream of smoke that wafted around the room.
"Once the weapon has told you its name you will be bonded to it and the weapon will protect you. No matter the weapon, you will be more powerful than someone not bonded to their weapon."

So with his rosewood staff in hand and the robes of the old man Skrog made his way to an eatery in the port district. Hamwall was built on a peninsula and the ports were where it made most of its income. The goblinkin resided in the port district because they were the laborers and they didn't seem to mind the smell of dying fish and salt water.
The smell got worse the closer he got to the ports and the languages changed from the tongues of men, dwarves and elves to goblins, orcs and hobgoblins. The streets here were more crowded than in the center district, the goblinkin cared little for rain or the slug on the cobblestone. In fact, many would say it reminded them more of their homelands than any other part of the continent. For Skrog, it reminded him of his terrible childhood; killing so he wouldn't be killed, stealing so he wouldn't starve. It was a life he wanted to leave in his past and forget forever, but the green of his skin and the sound of his voice would never let onlookers forget and because of that, he would never forget.


But there was a rumble in his stomach and soon that was all he could think about. So Skrog followed his nose to the nearest source of cooking meat.

-Jestro

Bottomless [Chapter One]

The old man couldn't have picked a worse day to send Skrog on this errand. The clouds hung low and the dew dripped heavily from them making the already putrid stench of the bazaar that much more powerful. Days like today the common races were huddled inside their shelters away from the rain. Inside Skorg could hear cheering from happy patrons at the pub as a bard praised visiting adventurers.
The streets were nearly empty today, the only humanoids on them were the lower races. So Skrog did not feel out of place as he walked along the uneven cobble stone roads. The poor excuse for sandals he wore on his feet did little to keep his dark green feet off the wet stones. On occasion he would slip, just a bit, when he stepped on a vile greasy patch.
Two silver and a grocery list were all the old man gave him.
One pound of dried rosemary
Three pounds of black cat fat
Ten ogre teeth
Half a pound of mint
Two dried chicken heads
One cyclops eye
One ounce of mercury

Skrog put the list in his leather pouch, inside he had five of the seven items on his list. The ogre teeth were the most difficult thing so far. Never again would he go into an Ogre cemetery. His arms would be sore tomorrow from all that digging. All that was left were the half a pound of mint and the ounce of mercury.
The old man was a hard ass, to be sure, but he made life as easy for Skrog as it could be. Life wasn't particularly easy for anyone of mixed blood and Skrog learned that the hard way until he met the old man.
"Go to the holy temple of Asward for the mercury. They use it as a holy offering to the metal god. They drink from it, and in time its said they can have visions. But for now," The old man told Skrog before he departed. "just get the ounce of it."
"How much will it cost?" Skrog replied.
"Possibly just a confession, or type of offering to Asward." The old man said.
Skrog saw the temple of Asward and approached it.
On the outside it looked like any other human structure, strong and sturdy, built of wood and stone. It was decorated with the vibrant blue of the metal god and bore his holy symbol. The image of an axe. Skrog came to the building's opening, just an open doorway covered by a blue sheet. It was a way of showing that all were welcome should they choose to enter.
Skrog pushed the sheet aside and politely made his way inside. It was crisp and warm inside the small entryway. The floor was made of impressively lacquered oak panels and the walls were solid marble. Just before him stood a monk wrapped in blue robes.
"Welcome to the house of Asward, brother." The monk spoke.
"Umm." Skrog began. "M-m-may I-I-I." He paused and adjusted himself. It was uncommon for strangers, especially humans to be so polite to him. "Apologies. May I have an ounce of mercury?"
The monk turned and began walking further into the temple. Skrog wondered if he had offended the monk and quickly followed him.
"I beg your forgiveness, monk. I-I-I work for the old apothecary in the center of the city and h-h-h-he asked me for an ounce of-" He was cut off when the monk turned around to face him.
"Your reasons for our divine liquid are your own, and we needn't a detail. We give all our brothers and sisters whatever Asward can give."
"Really?" Skrog was shocked, maybe he could keep the two silver after this job was done.
"We ask only that you make a simple offering to him." Then the monk turned around again, deeper into the temple.
The ceiling rose several dozen feet higher making Skrog feel tiny. There were no windows in the massive one roomed temple, just long banners of blue and white that hung from the walls. All along the oak floors rested monks in similar robes as the one Skrog followed although the hue of each carried from a soft pale blue to a deep ocean blue. Each of the monks lie crouched with their heads on the ground resting just next to their knees. They rocked back and forth and would occasionally rise upwards and lift their arms to the heavens.
The first monk had reached the other side of the temple and Skorg hurriedly followed. He noticed that the monk stood next to an ornate fountain that flowed a shiny silver liquid from it.
"Now, brother." The monk began. "An offering must be given in order to receive Asward's holy liquid."
"Okay, what kind of offering?" Skrog asked.
"An offering of blood or flesh." The monk said flatly.
"My blood?" Skrog asked. The monk nodded and turned to face the fountain. When he turned back he held a decorative dagger.
"Place your hand above the alter and grasp the blade firmly. Gravity will take care of the rest." The monk spoke. Then he handed the dagger to Skrog.
Skrog didn't know what to do but he took the dagger. This was not the first time he'd held a dagger, nor would it be the last time. But he still felt uneasy.
"Breathe evenly, my brother." The monk said calmly. He gently grasped Skrog's wrists and lifted them above the alter. It was majestic and humbling at the same time. It wasn't a gaudy alter with decorative charms, just a simple bust of Asward atop a column. Below it was a pool of water with small silver fish swimming in it.
"Now grasp." The monk said. Skrog obeyed and lightning sting of the blade dug into his left palm and dropped the blade into the water.
"Oh, no! I-I-I'm sorry!" Skrog said in a panicked voice.
"Be calm, my brother." The monk assured him. "For this in not the first dagger to be lost in offering." The monk turned to the small mercury fountain and waved his hand to it. "Your offering is accepted, now be blessed with the metal god's gift." Skrog removed an empty one ounce vile from his leather pouch and dipped it into the mercury. When he removed it and put a cork in the top the monk was facing him.
"Here you are, brother." He extended a blue wrap. "For you hand." Skrog bowed to the monk and wrapped his hand.
"Uh, thank you very much." He said and turned to leave.
"Brother." The monk called to him softly. Skrog turned back.
In front of him the monk held a scroll.
"These are the teachings of Asward, please read them and return to us. We can be a place of safe haven for you. For I imagine there are few for your kind in this city." Skrog took the scroll and put it in his leather pouch and slung it over his shoulder. He bowed again, thanked the monk and left.
"I am never doing anything like that again, old man." Skrog said to himself when he was outside again.

The last item on the old man's list was the half a pound of mint. No big request, so to speak.
"The half a pound of mint should be obtained at Sky Hook's Tavern." The old man told Skrog prior to his departure. "They brew the most divine minted ale. You really should try it."
Skrog shrugged the idea off. There was no way he'd be able to purchase ale at a tavern like that. It was a common race tavern and Skrog knew to stay away. However, Skrog respected the old man and knew he'd never send him someplace that was too dangerous.
Before he knew it he was standing outside Sky Hook's Tavern. He hadn't noticed until his feet just naturally stopped. He had hoped it would have taken longer, to delay the inevitable. But he was here. So he stepped toward the door.
Sky Hook's Tavern had been established after the great Goblin war that raged between the common races and the goblinkin for decades as a form of celebrating the common race victory. But the prejudices still ran strong in this country as well as the surrounding ones.
Skrog took a deep breath and entered.
The sound hit him first. Sky Hook's Tavern was loud with bardic music and boisterous chanting of drinking songs in human tongues. There was clattering of mugs slamming against one another and the occasion thud when one landed proudly on a table. Skrog had never drank socially, there weren't any pubs or taverns who'd serve him. So if he drank, which he rarely did, it was with the old man to celebrate one of his human holidays.
The warmth hit Skrog next. Sky Hook's Tavern was a wet hot kind of warm that happens when too many people are crammed into a small space together. It was a nice feeling and made Skrog feel comforted. That was all meaningless when he approached the barkeep whose back was turned away from him.
"E-e-excuse me, sir?" Skrog tried to make his voice as loud as it could be despite the fear that was rising within him. The barkeep turned around slowly. He had a rag in one hand and a mug in the other.
"Yeah, what'dya-" Then he saw Skrog and his grasp of the mug went limp. "What in the name of!?"
It was then that the entire bar just happen to fall silent. The gaze of the patrons all shifted in Skrog's direction.
"A goblin!" Someone in the crowd shouted in disbelief.
"What business do you have here, creature? We don't serve your kind." The barkeep shouted.
"I-I-I am on an errand for-"Skrog began but was soon cut off by a clammer from behind the barkeep. The barkeep turned slightly but he never shifted his gaze from Skrog. Behind him was a door that could have easily been missed, it was made from the exact same wood as the rest of the bar. It had no frame and the handle was a very small metal grip that resembled a leaf.
The door swung open and a giant of a man stepped through.
"A goblin! In MY bar!?" The words shot from his bearded mouth like fire. His face was cracked with age and his hair had long since gone white. He was a man well into his last years, however his frame was still a massive thing to behold. He peered over the bar and saw Skrog. He looked him up and down and then his brow turned sour. He turned to the barkeep.
"Is this the goblin, Fen?" The giant man raised a finger and pointed it at Skrog.
"Yeah, sir." The barkeep replied.
"Did you fight in the Great Goblin War?" The giant man asked.
"N-no, sir!" Fen replied. The entire room was breathless, watching the exchange.
"No, I don't suppose you did." The giant man turned back to face Skrog. "I, on the other hand, did."
The giant man leaned forward toward Skrog.
"I daresay I may have killed hundreds of goblins, hobgoblins, orcs and even trolls." Skrog's hands began to shake. "They are vile, sickening creatures with no sense shame!"
Skrog wanted to flee. Maybe he still could, just turn and bolt for the door. It wouldn't have been the first time he was chased out of a tavern. Then the giant man stood up straight.
"Give the poor creature what it wants and let him on his way." He said to the barkeep.
"Sir?" The barkeep replied.
"I pity you, boy. You seem about the right age. You were born during the war, weren't you?" He was talking to Skrog.
"Y-y-yes, sir. During the last years."
"That sounds right." There was a deep sadness in the giant man's eyes. "Fen, do as I say. Give this boy his drink."
"He only asked for mint, but sir, why?" Fen was confused. "We don't serve goblinkin."
"Was your mother human, boy?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied sheepishly.
"Then out of respect for her you will get this one admittance into my tavern. But let it be known, if you should enter again, I, Sky Hook the Mighty Claw of Woncehall will strike you as dead as if you were your raping father." The giant man brought his face close to Skrog's. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Skrog replied "Very clear." Then Sky Hook stood up again and faced Fen.
"The mint, Fen."
"A half-goblin?" Fen replied in shock. "But how did you know?"
"One of the more haunting traits of goblins are their heads and pointed ears. As bald as eggs, they are." Then Sky Hook looked at Skrog. "Is this one bald?"
Fen, as well as the entire tavern looked at Skrog, he was not bald. He had black matted hair that wasn't very long, and a short curly beard that grew in patches along his face.
"But the most haunting thing about a goblin are their beady red eyes. Those eyes still haunt my dreams."
Fen gazed into Skrog dark brown eyes. They were still the size of a full blood goblin, larger in proportion to the rest of their face, but very humanly brown. Beyond those two differences, the only other thing that set Skrog apart from a full blood goblin was his height. He was about as tall an average human. Full blood goblins were, in general, the size of halflings or gnomes; typically the size of human children.
Sky Hook turned and headed through his door and left the bar. There was coughing and murmurs from the crowd but within a few seconds the roaring and cheering continued as if nothing had happened. Fen hadn't taken his gaze off Skrog until a loud thud was heard in the crowd. It was then that he snapped to.
"How much mint did you say?" He asked.
"Half a pound, sir." Skrog replied.
"No, its fine." Fen replied as he turned to fetch the mint. He lifted a jar from beneath a floor cupboard. "You are my elder, all things considered." Then he turned back around with a wad of mint leaves in his hand. Skorg extended his hand with the two silver pieces in it. Fen drew his hand out to take them then reconsidered.
"That's quite alright, sir." He said. "Enjoy the mint."
And with that Skrog left Sky Hook's Tavern. He could;t be sure if it was the smell of the alleyway or something else, but his eyes began to water as he headed back to the old man's hut.

-Jestro

The Book Without Eyes [Chapter One]

How sure can I be, that as I recount the events that brought us here that you will make a better choice than I did? I don't see myself as someone who is insane, in fact, I don't see any change in myself at all. This is of course disregarding the physical manifestations brought on by the exposure to the horrors lurking behind my walls. But as far as the thoughts in my head, I find them just as solid and faithful as any other time in my life.

"I have a delivery here." The voice behind my door boomed.

"Just leave it and go." I thought, but I would dare never speak such a thing.

"Come on, man! I know you're in there!" The voice boomed again. "I heard your floorboards creak!" Its a lie, I've stayed perfectly still since he first knocked.

"Dude, you gotta sign or you can't have the package!" The voice called out. Then I heard another, a more familiar voice.

"Ted never comes outside. Just leave the form, he'll sign it and place it right back here." It was Ellie from room 407, the room across the hall. I could see it through my peephole. Ellie was the closest thing I ever got to human interaction.

"What am I supposed to do, come back tomorrow?" The first voice, a man's boomed again.

"I don't know nor do I care what you do." Ellie was now matching his volume. "Walk around the floor, by the time you come back the form will be signed and the package will be inside."

"How do I know you won't take it?" The man asked. Ellie just sighed.

"You don't." Then her keys jingled and I heard her lock click. The door creaked open and floorboards groaned. "You just have to have faith in Ted, the way I do." Then her door slammed shut.

The man grumbled to himself for a few moments, contemplating any number of logical reasons to leave a notepad in front of a door alone.

"Alright, TED!" He announced. There was utter distain in his words. "I'll be back in five. If the form isn't signed by the time I come back, you're going to need to pick this package up at our local office."

Then I heard his feet walk away.

I pressed myself against the door and peered through the peephole. I saw no one. I couldn't be too risky, however. I needed to be sure. I cracked the door ever so slightly and used an extendable dental mirror to peer around the hallway.

I saw no one so I stood and closed the door again. I undid the four locks and quickly opened the door.

Lying in front of it was a brown cardboard box, roughly the size of a cookie sheet, with an electronic notepad on top. I lifted the notepad and withdrew the stylus. I scribbled my name on the electronic dotted line and replaced it with the box.

Then I quietly closed my door and locked it. Then hurriedly rushed to my bedroom in order to unsheathe my prize. I had been searching for this rarity for what felt like decades and now the moment was at hand to add it to my collection. 

I ritualistically opened the package as not to damage my gem inside. I had to maintain the mint condition of it. 

As I delicately slid a knife across the top of the package I noticed it, with one hand clasped against the bottom of the package. This felt different. This did not feel like a limited edition Eva figurine, this felt like a book.

Then I rotated the package one hundred eighty degrees and out fell a dusty old tome. The thing reeked of something I could not distinguish or it was, perhaps too foul for my brain to interpret. The grimoire was heavy enough to make my wrist strain from its weight. It was covered in cracked leather and bound by three parallel clasps of iron that wrapped around it. Between the clasps, tying them together was a menacing looking lock with two identical key holes. On the face of the book were etchings that I could not understand, save for these strange letters that ran across the top of it like a title.

"του βιβλιου δεν εχει ματια"

-Jestro

Underneath the Crust [Chapter One]

It started on the 14th of February, when the vines fell. Hell of a coincidence, huh? So from then on we all just called it V-day. 

I've spent a long time underground, with the others. We got a system working and everything. I'm a digger. I go out with a group of guys and we dig. Where are we going? Around.

We just want to find a stable place beneath the crust. The problem with that is any kind of tremor above ground is multiplied by like a fuck-ton down here. It feels like we're always running and shit.

It was cool for a little bit, I was happy going out with the boys to dig. I even had a canary with me just in case we hit some gas.

Oh, shit. This one time we did hit some gas. Well, it wasn't me, it was Kyle Daniels. What a dumb ass. We were all just working and he came down with a pick axe and then the bird stopped chirping and fell over. I was like, "SHIT!" then I bailed. The other guys followed but Craig Roberts wasn't fast enough, or maybe he wanted to die. Its not like he needed to wake up and deal with all this bullshit anymore.

Kyle was so worked up about that, that a few months later he offed himself. Thank Jesus I didn't find him, he hanged himself in his bunk. Crazy stuff, man. His skin was all pasty white and he was all sweaty.

From that day forward we started working on a new way of digging. We started going slower and taking more precautions. 

What's really cool is, that was around the time we connected with another colony's tunnel. It was like discovering we weren't alone in the world. There had been a bunch of us when V-day happened and during those weeks that followed but we all split up in hopes of making something like looked like an ant farm. So when it happened it was like a sigh of relief, we had done it. 

We sometimes trade with the guys from the others tunnels. I got a new companion from an old Indian dude from there. He gave me an African Wild Dog in exchange for some quartz I mined. SO I started training the pup.

That was three years ago, I think. Its kind of hard to tell time down here. The village chief dedicated someone to regulating a sleep schedule. That's the closest thing we have to a day system. It kind of blows, but it is what it is. 

Other than those occasional gas ruptures or run ins with giant-ass spiders, life down here is pretty boring. Its just a bunch of work. Plus, all the chicks down here are busted as fuck and none of them have bodies. So it was a real shocker when someone came knocking on our top tunnel doors saying they were from the surface. 

-Jestro

Peas and Carrots [Chapter One]

Michael tore across the road away from the wrecked and burning SUV he had just writhed out of. He could still hear the monster screaming behind him. He nearly dove into the corn field in front of him, their stiff stalks slashed across his face making him squint his eyes. The night was pitch black and Michael couldn't see a thing besides the haunting shadows illuminated by the car's fire. They snaked their ways through the cornstalks like spectral tentacles extending out to snatch him up.
From behind him he heard the beast slam its weight into the moist soil he ran along. That made Michael's heart race and his feet sped to catch up. His breath was harsh and burned as he exhaled, it felt like swallowing razor blades as he inhaled. He closed his eyes, lowered his head and pushed himself to run faster but it still wasn't enough.
Just as he hit the clearing and felt himself break free from the cornstalks he was thrown to the ground. Two massive boney hands slammed into his shoulders. His legs shot above him and he felt his back crack. The ground was tough and burned as his face smashed into it. It didn't matter that it was damp soil, it felt like sizzling concrete.
Michael didn't even have time to breathe before a dull pain began to grow on his shoulder. The pain began to heat up and soon it felt like shards of metal were being ground into his neck. He opened his eyes and saw a small country home accompanied by an old tree, tire swing and flanked by a windmill.
Michael screamed as blood started to spray from his neck, his vision was becoming blurry. He saw a broad figure emerge from the house before everything went a foggy red.

"What in the name of Christ!?" Glen Mulburry shouted as he stormed out of his house. He had heard screaming and left with his shotgun in hand. What he saw was something from a nightmare. Just on the border of his corn field lie a man who must have been in his mid-thirties with blood spraying from his neck. On the man's back crouched a pale figure - covered with tattered grey clothing, its head convulsing at the man's neck as if it was gnawing on him.
The creature heard Glen's shouting and glanced up at him. Its face was a pale blue color, almost white. The creature's head was completely bald and had two triangular ears on either side which made it look unnatural at first glance. Blood dripped en masse from its chin. Glen followed the blood up to the creature's mouth. It was a foul thing, riddled with jagged teeth that sprouted out in every direction. The jaw was massive and looked powerful enough to break steel. Glen's gaze continued to travel upwards until it met the eyes of the creature.
They were large and completely black.
Glen felt himself sliding toward the creature as he continued to gaze into the abyss just behind the skin of its eyes.
Then he was falling.
And the whole world went black.

"Daddy!" Marlene Mulburry screamed from the living room window. She watched as her father went out to fight the monster. Her daddy always fought off the monsters under her bed and in her closet, but not this time. This time all the monster had to do was look at her father and he fell to his knees. The look on his face was absolute fear followed by nothingness.
In the time it took Marlene to blink the monster had jumped across her yard and landed in front of her father. It raised an arm, which was topped with five disgustingly long fingers that looked to Marlene like tree branches, and then swung at him. Then her window was covered in red.
Marlene closed her eyes and screamed.

-Jestro

News kinda

One of the girls I go to school with said she'd design the cover of my book once I publish it! Awwwww, yeeeeeeeeah, gurl!
Looks like Jestro is finally going to do what he's been saying he was going to do for years (besides not referring to himself in the 3rd person).
So what's it going to be everyone? Something new?
Well, I'll still write the few new ones I started.
Should I polish upan older one?
Nightmare Stare?
Confession of a Teenage Zombie?
Rabbit's Foot?
Strangers Wearing Makeup?
Star Force Gemini?
I want feedback, humans!
But in the meantime I'll continue to write. Maybe I'll add some sketches too. Like that vampire story I want to start. I'm going to redesign the traditional vampire into something that might be similar to Resident Evil 4 or like Blade 2. Not too sure yet.
Eyes Swollen Shut is also supposed to be a graphic novel, I haven't gotten to that part of it yet.
I bought a Bamboo tablet a few weeks ago, so I literally have no excuse other than laziness not to get something done.
So tell your friends that this old blog is getting a makeover!!
-Jestro

The Loop

Just here to keep myself in check.
Still procrastinating; its week 9 and I only have two weeks left after this. I'll be off for a week. That's ridiculous, right? Just a week? But I heard that at the end of the year we get a whole month off, which makes this whole one week break thing alright with me.
So I've been looking into getting this blogspot thing on my ipod so I can just write on it whenever I feel like it and then just update it to here, not going too well.
Oh, but back to the whole school thing.
I got a gig directing a student short film, well its an animated short. I'm on the writing team, no big surprise there.
That class is kind of a nightmare, I'm just hoping its some kind of scenario the teacher is putting us through to prepare us for "the industry". But once the short is done I'll post it on here so you can all see what I've spent the last nine weeks grueling over.
On another note my band (if you can really call it that), Professor Utonium's Perfect Little Girls is still working on the new album. By that I mean I'm waiting for the last of the vocalists to send me their parts. I also had to contact new people because, frankly I got tired of waiting. This album was supposed to be released June 4th. HA! That's never happened. Looking back, I was really douchey to people because I was desperately trying to get it done on time. But there are only five songs left (out of 18). So once that's done I'll put a link on here.
I want to start working on a comic. I have an idea rolling around in my head of several different "monster" stories that all exist in the same world. One of the stories is a vampire tale: I'm drawn to this one because I'd like to redesign the vampire. Something similar to 30 Days of Night and Blade 2. I even started a discussion today in my Advanced Drawing class about it. I got some great inspiration from some of my classmates.
Along with that vampire would be a hellhound of some kind. I really liked the subculture that Anne Rice created and touched on briefly throughout her books of a vampire world. I think it'd be an interesting world to create. Plus, I think that my vampire can be guarded by a hellhound. That could make for a cool relationship.
Another story would be one of possession. I'm thinking Korean or Japanese pop singer/actress gets possessed. But not by just one demon, I'm thinking several demons. There's a character from a video game called Guilty Gear, his name is Zappa. He and Emily Rose are my inspiration. I think her quest will be to rid herself of the demons, obviously. But by doing so they become trapped in her and eventually aid her in finding a way to get free.
After that the stories kind of become blurry. I like the idea of a quantum immortal and a heat seeker. I'll have to flesh them out.
Other than that its back to work.
Laterz,
-Jestro

Seventy-Seven Seconds [Chapter One]

Across the vast recesses of space eyes were focusing on the latest transmission of the M.S.S.A.G.C.R.

"And if you're just tuning in we're broadcasting live from the Escort Carrier, created by the 01 just for the games. Folks, this ship is the longest ship ever constructed in the history of space flight, its really a, really a sight to behold." A slim looking Fiod said. The broadcast was a split screen, one side showed the Fiod and the other showed two well dressed newscasters. One was a female Menkr, the other an intimidatingly large male Landi. 

"What else can you tell us about the Escort Carrier, Kariond?" The Menskr asked. There was a slight moment of silence as the transmission feed traveled to the Fiod.

"Like I said just now, its a massive ship. Its almost too big to believe." Kariond chuckled. "I was told by one of the many 01 crew members that it was really quite easy to construct."

"You'd think something as large as that would take an awful long time to build, am I right?" The Landi said. This particular Landi had adapted to be articulate. The muscles in its face were more developed to speak and show expression. 

"You're absolutely correct in that assumption, Munsk. I had the same question for the 01. But they informed me that despite its size, the Escort Carrier has no defense system whatsoever. That they are, in fact being escorted themselves by a mysterious Menskr fleet."

"Doesn't that just add to the wonder of all this?" Munsk asked.

"You are completely right." The Menskr host chuckled. "Kariond, what is the agenda for today's event?"

"Today we'll get to see the Anti-gravity crafts in action. Now I know it isn't an official race, but the preliminaries are just as important. This is the first time that the Mulitple Star Systems, spectators and sponsors alike get to see the crafts in action. Gotta tell you, a lot of money will be circulating today. So if I were you two I'd start placing some bets."

The two newscasters chuckled. 

"Well, thank you very much Kariond. But we have to cut to a commercial." The Menskr said.

"But when we return," Munsk added. "We'll have more on these preliminary races."

The elevator was cramped. They had all nine of them in there and it was starting to get hard to breathe. Only one of the racers felt good about the massive amounts of CO2 in the air and it was Xhouz. His people naturally breathed in carbon dioxide, like Earth plants. As they ascended not a single sound could be heard with one exception, the humming of the elevator's engine as it quickly halted to a stop. The two giant metal doors slid open silently and the racers stepped out in single file.

Beyond the doors was the uppermost level of the Escort Carrier. It was domed with a clear metal, it was the strongest part of the ship. On either side of the ship were two structures of bleachers extending the length of the ship. In between them was a drag strip and this was the main event for today's affairs.

"All racers report to your crafts."

Saldone Quilo and Briton Overseen had their crews just near the elevator. They walked with determination.

"So I hear all you owls can see the future." Saldone asked. "Is that true?"

"It is." Briton responded as she gracefully walked toward her craft.

"Then why race?" Saldone followed her, his skin turning to a soft pink color. "I mean, you already know the outcome, right?"

"No," Briton stopped and looked at him, her giant owl eyes reflecting two identical images of himself back at him. "not at all. D'caied see all possibilities."

"Isn't that unfair also?" Saldone asked. "You SEE everything!"

"Let me phrase it another way, what if your craft stalls at the starting line?" Before Saldone could respond Briton continued. "I don't see it as if, at the race there are 6,872 dimensions in which my craft will never leave the starting line. On the day of the race we shall discover which dimension we are truly in."

Briton turned and continued to waddle to her craft. Saldone was paralyzed, the realization had stumped him. "So is that how it is all the time for you?" He called after her.

"Yes, always." She turned her head around towards him as she waddled. "I'm pleased that we'll be entering one of the many dimensions where we're friends. They will give us longer lives."

Saldone was shocked and had no words, he simply smiled at the massive owl. She approached her craft and began talking to two other owls in a language Saldone couldn't comprehend. The sounds were not the kind you could make with a throat. The sound reminded him of the beaches of his home world: a place long forgotten by the galactic community. It made him smile. Before he knew it he was at his own craft.

"Are you ready to show these so called racers what real speed is?" One of the pit crew asked him. 

"You know it. Nothing says power like Fiod power converters." He replied with pride as he exchanged a glance with Xhouz. A sneer spread across its face. "That's right, landi. Fiod power converters." Saldone added with wink. 

Xhouz turned his gaze downward. 

"Forget about that worthless excuse for a racer." Luno said as he gracefully walked up beside Xhouz. Saldone and Luno exchanged an angry lock on each other's eyes until one of Saldone's crew approached the racer and muttered something to him in a native Fiod tongue.

"Your kind scare me, Luno." Xhouz shamefully admitted, his head still lowered with his gaze fixed on the metal flooring. "I am not a warrior, I was bred to race. That is all."

"I was bred to protect my people." Luno said. Xhouz looked up at him, he stood well above 240 centimeters. His posture was elegant in its power and force. Luno walked and others got out of his way, that sort of feeling was unusual to Xhouz. He couldn't help but enjoy it. "The only difference is I protect them in any way they need."

"What does that mean?" Xhouz asked.

"It means I'm racing here and now because that's what my people need. This is our war, unfortunately."

"How is that unfortunate?" Xhouz asked.

"We are not like the Landi, we don't evolve singularly. We are all bred to be fighters." Luno said as they neared Xhouz craft.

"But this is a fight, don't you see that?" Xhouz stopped and looked up to the massive Dolphinian. The Dolphinian chuckled.

"You might be on to something there, Xhouz. I respect that." Luno continued to walk toward his own craft leaving the Landi to ponder their conversation.

"Those Landi are pathetic." Exai said as he walked beside Luno.

"In what way, comrade?" Luno asked. 

"I mean, sure this is a fight, but he should know that I'll be walking away with the gold this time." 

"Your confidence will surely be your downfall, Exai." Luno said looking straight ahead.

"Hey, man. You know what I mean, I can feel the track, I can feel it living and breathing. Everyone else is at a disadvantage." The Voidling cocked his head upwards.

"Once you take a spill in the tiny craft you won't be feeling anything." Luno said as he approached his own craft. He stopped and looked down at the quadruped. "You had better be careful, I hear your people are moving into battle formations. You'd better be on your best behavior." With that he turned and boarded his craft.

Exai turned around and sensed D'ontox behind him.

"D'ontox, you know I don't represent my people's war, right?" He asked as they started walking.

"I do. But none of that matters here." The Autechron said. "Here we are the diplomats for the entire multiple start systems."

"Damnit, man!" Exai slammed a fist into the ground. The paparazzi near them snapped digital photos at it as if their lives depended on it. "This blows, I just want to race, I don't want us to go to war."

"Then live like the rays of Kaku and go forth. They do not care what they shine on, they just shine. Its because of that that we survive."

"I uh…don't get it." 

"It means race. What happens elsewhere or because of it will happen regardless. Now get on that craft of yours and show us why you're the only racer who rides their craft like a hover cycle." With that D'ontox patted his eyeless friend on the shoulder and continued to his craft. Behind him he heard rushed feet.

"Excuse me." Alex Quibly said in an uneasy voice. 

"My pardon, Alex." D'ontox bowed his head slightly.

"I just…" He paused and glanced behind them at the Tyberoux a few dozen steps away. "I get these horrible shakes whenever I'm near them."

"I understand completely, friend." 

"Do you? Do you really?" Alex stopped and turned to face the Autechron. He looked as though he was about to say something hateful or maybe even strike, but he glanced at the Tyberoux again and held back.

"Menskar are not the only people who became enlightened by the powers of the Tyberoux, remember that."

"You might think you know what that means, but you've never been host to them. I have! And let me tell you something-" But before he could finish his sentence D'ontox removed a bit of his skin-tight crimson body suit and revealed a massive scar on the back of his neck about the size of a fist.

"By the grace of Kaku I was saved from the parasites. His sun beams shines through their darkness and woke me." D'ontox step closer to Alex. "So believe me when I say, I understand why you feel uneasy and I empathize with your plight." Then he glanced over to Sandra and her Tyberoux who were now within hearing range. "May the graful rays of Kaku bless your races, brother Quibly." Then he bowed and headed for his craft.

Alex stood there for a few moments in silence. He was in utter shock, so much so that he didn't even react when both the Tyberoux and the 01 walked past him. The two of them walked on in silence until they reached their crafts. 

Alex wondered if there were others who would join the Menskar fight against the Tyberoux. Could they really change anything? He wanted to believe so, it was the only reason he was here in this giant game. He wanted to be the reason for others to uprise from their shackles. But now he found himself inspired by D'ontox. 

With a strange and new feeling of belonging he walked confidently to his craft and prepared for the preliminary race.

-Jestro

Just a Post

So do you guys remember when I used to write all the time?
Or maybe when I finished a story?
Well, if you answered yes to either of the following, you're in for a treat.
Its always seemed to me that I would go through these strange stages in my creative process I refer to them as my absorption phase and my flood phase. And it feels about right to flood this bitch with some creativity.
It also helps that since going to art school I've not only gone back into my ways of procrastination. So I'm hoping that this will help me get back into a schedule.
So here's to getting my shit together!

So what I need from all of you is a vote: which story should I start first? I'm still working on Paranormal Anonymous and Seventy-Seven Seconds, but I want to add to that. So should I start Dollface back up? Marionette's Maze? Silver Bullet Western? Or maybe Eyes Swollen Shut?

Or did you all want something really new? If so, I have a few new ideas.
Another western, but this one is about a gunslinging gorilla.
A new vampire story.
A super hero story.
Or a novel adaptation of Gyrochan: Giant Robot? (Hey, this one is a trilogy too)

So let me know what ya'll are thinking. Help me help myself, ya dig?

-Jestro

Paranormal Anonymous Chapter Three

It was a day just like any other when this whole story really started. I was at work.
I work with the dead.
The morgue where I work is nothing like the ones you see in the movies, its not in a basement, its not dimly it and its not quite. At least not anymore, now it sounds more like a pet store. I asked my boss if I could star working the morning or afternoon shifts, because the rats are nocturnal and its easier for me to handle them when they're falling asleep. I bring a dog kennel meant for a German Shepard to work with me everyday, I leave it just next to the door. Its unsanitary to have rodents crawling over cadavers, you know.
The raven must understand me, because he stands in front of the kennel and stands guard. But that never stops him from randomly croaking at the rats. Even though most of them are asleep there are always a couple who are awake and chewing on the kennel. Hey, if they can chew through it within the first sixty days of me buying it, its still covered under warranty, so that's good.
I try to work as far from the kennel as I can get away with, that way if a rat or two get out I can hear them scurrying across the cold tile floor. The raven is pretty good at catching them if only one escapes, if there are two or more it becomes a job for me to take over.
Hey, at least I don't need coffee to keep me awake at work anymore.
I keep my phone on just in case one of my sisters has to get a hold of me. So when my phone started ringing that's who I assumed it was.
"Unidentified" 
"This had better not be CPS." I said to myself. "Hello?"
"Rod?" It was a girl's voice that sounded like it was being buried under the screams of a crowd, all distorted in the way that only cell phones can distort things.
"Who wants to know?" I asked as nicely as I could.
"Its me, Yasmine. Is this you?" She asked.
"Uh..." I couldn't help but pause. "Yeah?"
"Yeah? Why you say it like dat? Is it jew or not, guerro?"
"Yeah, its me. But I'm at work right now-" She cut me off.
"Hey, can I axe a favor?"
I let out a sigh. She was probably the age of my oldest sister, Nancy. So saying no might be difficult.
"Sure. What is it?"
"Jew work at dat hospital downtown, right?"
"Yes, in the morgue." I started washing my tools.
"So um, I'm like in at school, like in da front, can jew like come over?"
"Why do you want me to come to your school?" I asked.
"So like...I kinda got in a fight because of dat demon I told you 'bout."
"Alright, alright. Just relax. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just don't tell anyone about the demon, got it?" I covered the cadaver up and walked to the sink to wash my hands.
"Hey, Rod?" Yasmine asked.
"Yeah?"
"Don't jew need to know where my school is at?"
"That would help, yeah." I put the phone between my shoulder and my ear and started washing my hands.
"Its in East town." She said.
"East town, got it. What's the name?" I was drying my hands now.
"East Town High."
"Alright, I know where that is. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Stay out in the front and don't talk to-" She cut me off again.
"-to anybody, I know! Just hurry up, please." With that she hung up. I walked across the room and left. The raven swiftly flew between the closing doors, banked smoothly and gracefully landed on my shoulder with nothing more than a quick flutter of his wings. I could see him in my peripheral vision looking over my shoulder, behind me. I glanced over and saw the rats pouring out of the door. They moved liked a rug with mind, it was kind of beautiful in a strange way. And hey, they chewed through the kennel, I can get that warranty replacement, nice!
With the whole gang assembled we went out to my hoopty of a car and drove for East town.

That phone conversation might need a bit of an explanation. Sherri asked all of us to exchange numbers, as a type of battle buddy mentality. Deb told all of us who hadn't severed in the military what that meant.
"I was stationed in Japan once, I couldn't trust them Japs as far as I could throw 'em. But I could trust my battle buddy. I took comfort in knowing that even though I was in a place where they done ate fish raw and took baths in groups, I still wasn't alone."
"That's absolutely correct, Deb!" Sherri exclaimed. "Its like all of us are in a place where we are the outsiders, not by our race or our nationality, but because of our..."She paused and looked at each of us as if she was about to cry. "paranormal struggles."
After that we were all battle buddies, if any of us got in over our head it was our duty to help them out. Everyone seemed to come to me first, as if I really believed in this group. To be honest, I didn't. I just thought, somewhere down in my gut that I would need help someday and I wanted a bit of karma on my side for when that happened. I was right, by the way. I was going to need everyone's help.
But we'll get to that part when we get there, I had to start collecting my karma first and the first bit of that was in East town with a foul mouthed Latina who wore too much foundation.

-Jestro

Seventy-Seven Seconds [Prologue]

Seventy-seven seconds is all you need to manage in order to stay in the rankings.

Seventy-seven seconds, surrounded by a blur of mixed colors and high energy, will keep you in the race for one more lap.

Seventy-seven seconds is breaking even. 

Anything less than seventy-seven seconds and you're a legend. A legend to be remembered throughout all the star systems long after all their suns have gone out.

In a domed convention center on an off-planet satellite the biggest televised broadcast was taking place. Inside the excitement and intensity was tangible. Thousands of voices all speaking at once, each relaying information of the day's developments to their respected start systems, made the very walls of the dome vibrate. A thousand different languages all meshed together in one big cacophony of sonic chaos were instantly hushed as a dozen overhead light flickered. 

"The racers will now take the stage." A loud female voice boomed from all directions. Her voice echoed throughout the newly established silence. The walls creaked, as if contracting from the sudden lack of sonic bombardment. The lights above dimmed and all eyes were focused on a grand silver stage than stretched somewhere around a hundred meters in a straight line. The stage faced the onlookers like some kind of mammoth idol awaiting worship. It would not be unsatisfied.

"First to take the stage is Saldone Quilo from the Prefuis System." The loud female voice said. The crowd burst into a roar, louder than the one it was formerly in. Cheers, shouts and cries from a thousand languages ushered the small humanoid onto the stage. 

Saldone Quilo was a Fiod, a small two legged humanoid with translucent skin, two arms - each accompanied by a three fingered hand - and a large egg shaped head. On the head were two bulbous eyes that resembled black holes more than ocular organs, a small harmless looking mouth, and two antenna. 

Saldone nervously walked along the stage. Confident as he may have been in his racing abilities, the sight of thousand screaming reports broadcasting to the deepest edges of the star systems was no doubt intimidating. But Saldone made his way to a humble chair on the opposite side of the stage. There he stood, turned to completely face the crowd - mouthing thank you's in as many languages as he knew - and confidently sat down.

The chair was made of a soft and cushiony materially originally designed by Earthlings. Saldone noted how comfortable it was in his head before his attention was directed to a panel of nine figures sitting just in front of the stage.

"Mr. Quilo." A male voice boomed. It was one of the panel members speaking through the sound system. The crowd excitedly turned to nothing more than faint murmurs. The voice continued, "You have been chosen to represent the Prefuis Star System in this season's games".

The crowd was silent. It was as if every creator inside was holding its breath. 

"Yes," Saldone began. "I am humbled by the opportunity." 

"As you should be." The voice continued. "It is a great honor to sit on that stage and take place in these races. Are you confident you can complete all nine and return to your home planet of Titarion a true champion of the multiple star systems?"

"It will be taxing, to say the least," Saldone said. His voice was wavering, his nerves were better placed in his craft, on the track than at public speaking. "however, race five will take place on Umbrock, Titarion's sister planet. I'm confident that being so close to home will put a turbo boost to my abilities." At that the crowd exploded in cheers. Those from the Prefuis System could be heard loudest.

"Quite empowering words, Mr. Quilo." A different male voice chimed in. The crowd hushed. " We hope to see you do just that. Thank you." 

Saldone nodded to the judges and the crowd cheered more loudly. Lights flashed above and the booming female voice began to speak again.

"Next to take the stage is Unit_374." Again the crowd went nuts. It was the first time in the history of the Multiple Star System Anti-Gravity Craft Racing Association, M.S.S.A.G.C.R., that a member of the 01 Star System was allowed to participate. For decades it was outlawed to have a cybernetic race take part due to the fact that there is an unfair advantage for a racer who essentially is its craft. So in order to participate 01 needed to create a racer to pilot the craft, giving it the same delay between thinking of how to move the craft and actually moving it. Needless to say, all eyes were on Unit_374. There were billions of credits throughout the millions of gambling halls within the multiple start systems betting on Unit_374 being a fake. All the same, the fans wanted to see what it could do behind the controls of its craft.

From behind the backdrop of the stage walked a slender bipedal android. It was encased in an off-white plastic skin that glistened in the lights and sparkled with every camera flash. It had a small rectangular chunk of metal that rested where a head should have been, but it was too narrow to give the illusion that anything more than processors and wires were inside. In the front of it were eight circular LEDs, a facsimile for eyes. They were arranged in two columns: each with two small LEDs above a large LED which in turn was above another small LED. Unit_374 had a stiff and jagged walk, as if it was deliberately designed to move that way. Despite all that, the crowd loved it and eagerly quieted themselves as it reached the chair beside Saldone Quilo. 

"You may sit." The first male voice ordered. Unit_374 did. It turned its rectangular head piece to look at Saldone, and blinked. The blink began with the top two LEDs and sequentially made its way to the bottom. Saldone felt that it looked more like an idle light show than a blink. He smiled at Unit_374 before it turned to face the panel members.

"Unit_374, you are the first cybernetic racer to officially participate in the Multiple Star System Anti-Gravity Craft Racing Association," A new voice, a female one said. "how does that feel?"

The android tilted its rectangular head piece and the LEDs cycled through several colors before all turing the same shade of bright green.

"We wish only to convey gratitude to the Multiple Star Systems." The 01 Star System is comprised of four planets that all share a single collective consciousness. Every member of the 01 Star System speaks for the collective consciousness. "We are aware of how difficult it was to be granted admittance into these great games. We would also like to deliver a personal 'thank you' to the Tyberoux for assisting in that admittance." The crowd went from completely silent to a roaring monster of bleeding hearts in less than a second. 

"A very touching statement, Unit_374." The first male voice spoke. "Your stock has no doubt risen." There was a mass chuckle at this. 

Craft racing represented more than just the races themselves, they represented status among the multiple star systems. To have a racer from your star system was something wars were started over. Armies have performed genocides on entire planets over lost races. It was the racer who became the face of its respected planet and star system. So it was strategy, more so than actual gratitude that compelled Unit_374 to thank the Tyberoux. At least, that's what many of the reporters believe. They knew that if the more the viewers liked a racer, the more funding that racer would get. Funding could be used for obvious things like the craft, its maintenance, and even the racer's attire. But more interesting uses of funding might be air time during interviews, because a racer who is always on the public's mind stands a better chance for its star system than the racer standing in their shadow.

"Next to take the stage," The booming female voice began. "is Ishible D'ontox from the Gael Star System." The crowd cheered again, louder than before. The emotions of all creatures within the domed convention center were raising with each new introduction. 

From behind the stage emerged an ivory figure wearing what appeared to be a crimson apron. It was however, a formal garment wore by only the most highly regarded Autechron. The crimson represented their sun, a dying class M hypergiant, an ever-powerful fire God. The Autechron people worship their sun God, who they named Kaku, above all other things, to be covered with its color is an honor very few are able to hold. 

D'ontox gracefully walked, waving his long white arms in broad gestures to all, across the stage. He stood before the panel.

"You may be seated." The second male voice boomed. So he did, beside Unit_374. The android focused its attention to D'ontox's skin. It was completely white and flakey, as if it were ash clinging to the man's skin. This, the android calculated, was not as it appeared. The ash was in fact, millions of scales that the Autechron people used not only as a form of Ultra Violet protection from their sun, but it also served as a perfect camouflage. These white scales possessed every color in the light spectrum, which is why they appeared as such. In moments of heightened emotional stress or fear the scales can hone in on specific patterns that surround them, allowing the Autechreon to literally disappear. 

"Mr. D'ontox," The second male voice continued. "given the political climate surrounding your star system, it comes as a surprise to everyone hear, albeit a pleasant one, that you chose to be a part of these races."

"It is true," D'ontox voice was deep and guttural. "that my star system finds itself at the brink of war with the Sonicarious System." There were murmurs throughout the dome, this was the first time a representative openly spoke of the Sonic War. "I bear no ill will to Exai Cer in fact, I consider him to be one of the greatest racers of our millennia. Having said that, my devotion to my sun God has no equal. If my people should need me on the battlefield, then by the name of Kaku, I will be there."

The crowd roared and shook the walls of the convention center again. Each voice then speaking frantically into their broadcast feeds with news of the war and D'ontox's moving words.

"Fortunately, for the fans of this great sport and all of us here, you have a larger task at hand, in the name of Kaku." The second female voice spoke suddenly. The crowd quickly hushed. 

"That is correct." D'ontox said straightening his posture. "My lord's representatives wish to keep the peace as long as possible, or at least until the games are over. They believe that the friendship Exai and myself share might alter the opinions of both the Autechron and the Voidlings, possibly preventing further warfare."

"Very insightful words. Thank you, D'ontox." The female voice spoke. He simply nodded.

"Next to take the stage is Exai Cer of the Sonicarious Star System." The first female voice boomed throughout the convention center triggering a what many Earthlings refer to as 'golf clapping'.

From behind the stage emerged a small humanoid figure, somewhere around 150 centimeters in height and 30 centimeters in width. The tiny figure had muted violet skin that burst into black at the ends, a very narrow mouth and a massive head. Earthlings use the slang term, hammerheads to describe Voidlings, because their heads protrude out in a very similar way to the Earth native sharks. Voidlings lack any ocular organs, instead their heads act as tuning forks, picking up all vibrations. Voidlings are extremely sensitive to sound, however not wounded by it. The golf clapping was a sign of respect more than anything else.

The Voidling threw his hands in the air encouraging everyone inside to begin cheering at full volume. They eagerly obliged. At that, Exai confidently strutted to the other side of the stage.

"A memorable entrance, as always, Mr. Cer." The second male voice boomed. "You may sit." Exai did so. He turned to face D'tonox, and smiled at him.

"Tell us," The voice went on. "what will be the hardest part of those games?"

"As my buddy, D'ontox already mentioned, the war." Exai said. "The war will be taxing, of course. But I, and all these other racers, need to keep our eyes on the prize. Not just because it could prevent a war, nah! But because winning these races in a victory second to none!"

The crowd cheered.

"Indeed, it is." The second male voice agreed. 

"Next to take the stag,." The first female voice boomed yet again. The crowd were all eagerly awaiting the next participant to present himself. If what the rumors have mentioned in the multiple star system tabloids were true, then history was going to be made in the next few moments. " Alex Quibly of the late Sol Star System." Needless to say, the volume had reached an all time high. A mixture of cheering, clapping, booing, and whistling tore through the domed building making the window shake.

From be hid the stage walked a meek human male with dark brown skin, the bones in his shoulders jutting against the thin polyester of his silverfish grey uniform. He waved his right arm proudly as he carefully walked across the stage, all the while observing his entire surroundings. He stood beside Exai.

"Mr. Quibly, you may sit." The second male voice spoke from behind his panel. Alex sat. The convention center was still.

"Some refer to you as a criminal, others call you a saint. What do you have to say in response, Mr. Quibly?" The second female voice asked.

I uh," He paused and looked around. "As most of you know, I will be racing for my freedom. My permanent freedom." He added. "I sit before you all here today as a man with his back against the wall, so to speak. I will be racing for myself and for any others who might object to Tyberoux religion." There were harsh whispers from the audience. That was a very harsh statement to have made so publicly.

"And should you walk away from these races as its champion, what then?" The first male voice asked. Alex shrugged. 

"I guess we will have to cross that bridge when we get to it." He smiled nervously.

"For the sake of the Multiple Star Systems' political stability, let's hope we never have to." Harsh words, but the exact ones on nearly everyone's minds.

"Next to take the stage, Sandra representing the Tyberoux and their Atra Star System." The first female voice called out across the wide dome convention center. The crowd went wild, this was what they had been waiting for, the conflict of the century.

From behind the stage walked a small human female with pale white skin. She turned to face the audience as she walked, her arms waving mechanically in the air. Her mouth drooped down, a small bit of drool dripping from it. Her pupils were fully dilated giving her a unsettling appearance. She turned away from the audience, exposing the back of her neck where a tick the size of a watermelon had nested itself.

This was the Tyberoux, a race of parasitic ticks that bore themselves into the spinal columns of their hosts taking complete control over them. The ticks were a fleshy yellow color, like the flesh of a calloused foot. Their small legs were completely engrained into their host, making removal of the Tyberoux extremely painful. On the skin surrounding the Tyberoux was swollen and puffy skin that was a pale blue color, that color haunted Alex Quibly's nightmares. He inched himself away as Sandra stood just in front of him. She faced him, her eyes hallow and vacant, he could see her tears ducts beginning to leak - a common reaction to remaining open for so long - but even still, it made him feel like she was crying for help.

"Sandra Tyberoux, you may be seated." The second female voice said. The woman sat, Alex inched away from her as subtly as he could. 

"Is something the matter, Mr. Quibly?" The first male voice asked. Not subtle enough it would seem. He said nothing, but he didn't have to, every creature in the dome knew he was afraid the Tyberoux would jump on him and convert him back into a host.

"Just as well." The second male voice added. Then turned his attention to Sandra. "Sandra, why have the Tyberoux decided to join this season? It seems strange that the most powerful religious empire of the Multiple Star System to participate in a racing sport."

"To the people of the Multiple Star System," Sandra began, her voice disengaged as if she was speaking in a trance. "these races represent the culmination of their shared efforts. Much like the Earth sport of Futbal, the M.S.S.A.G.C.R. bring the eyes of our star systems together on a single ideal." 

Sandra paused.

"There are those among who consider the Tyberoux a parasitic menace," All eyes shifted to Alex. He sank in his chair. "participating in these races are simply an attempt to be viewed as just another species." 

It was true. The auditioning trials were more tense than usual this season, having both a cybernetic racer and a Tyberoux racer made more than a few star systems upset. But the two racers won their trial races and appealed to the judges. The handicap had been set: the Tyberoux has to control its human as well as its craft. With those odds it still managed to beat a course record by six hunted milliseconds. The Cybernectics made their own handicap when they created an android to do the racing. The android would have to traverse the course just like any other racer. These made the Tyberoux and the Cybernetics allies.

"Eloquent words, as always, Sandra." The second female voice said. "Thank you."

"Next to take the stage, Xhouz of the Mus Star System!" The first female voice cheered. From behind the stage walked a six legged creature that resembled an Earth crustacean but with a thin layer of shaggy fur on it. The head of the creature looked canine in appearance but with a single methodical eye. These creatures were known as Landi and they were some of the fiercest racers the Multiple Star System would ever know. Xhouz delicately walked across the stage.

"You may be seated, Xhouz." The second male voice ordered. The Landi did. 

"Your people have held a long standing winning streak in the M.S.S.A.G.C.R., is there any reason for us to believe that this season should be any different?" The second female voice asked.

"None." A low and scratchy voice escaped the Landi. "I was bred to be a racer and I am the best the Mus System has created." He looked at the others sitting beside him. "The sooner the races begin, the sooner my words will change from threat to fact."

Cheers roared throughout the dome. Landi pride was among the highest in the multiple star systems.

"We shall soon see. Thank you." The first voice added. Xhouz nodded as the first female voice began another introduction.

"Next to take the stage, Briton Overseen or the Calcanious Star System!" The crowd cheered again. From behind the stage appeared to some as a giant ball of ectoplasmic energy with seven long tentacles dangling from it as it hovered across the stage. To others, a lean humanoid with tan skin, two giant brown and white wings where arms should be and a majestic owl head walked across the stage. But to many, a seven foot tall barn owl adorably waddled across the stage. This was a creature known as a D'caied. They were beings of such high evolutionary state that no creature other than themselves can truly see what they actually look like. Most people in the Multiple Star Systems are content with the giant owl persona.

Briton stood next to Xhouz waiting to be seated.

"You may sit, Mrs. Overseen." The second female voice ordered. Briton sat.

"You return again for another attempt at the gold medal. How certain are you that you will win it this time?" The first male voice asked.

A voice appeared in the minds of all creatures within the convention center. 

"The sabotage of my last craft will not be forgotten," Briton began, her voice a soothing croon in the minds of all the viewers. "I have however, let bygones by bygones. With the recent increase in sponsorship, I find no it hardly unlikely to walk away from this season with nothing less than gold."

There were cheers, people cried, her words had resonated with them on a highly emotional level.

"Brilliant." The second male voice said, more to himself even though it was amplified for the convention center to hear. People cheered again.

"And finally, our last contestant!" The first female voice boomed. "Luno of the Aquis Star System!" Gutteral cheers exploded as members of the Aquis Star System cheered their representative on. He emerged from behind the stage, a massive seven foot tall Dolphinian. His pale grey skin covered in a tight fitting foamed neoprene suit. It glistened against the lights, proudly showing the fact that it kept his skin moist. He raised an arm, water trickled off it. His face had a constant childlike smile on it that made viewers love him. He stopped beside the giant owl and faced the panel. 

"You may sit, Luno." The second male voice said. He did.

"Your star system will be hosting the first race in this season, can you tell us anything about the conditions of craft racing beneath the Aquiant Sea?" The second female voice asked. 

"Aquian is the only planet in our system that isn't entirely covered in water. The terrible desert planet serves best for," He paused to show his distaste. "foreigners as they watch the races. But the pressure of the sea will be no problem at all, Dolphinian glass is the strongest in all the star systems. We take pride in that." The crowd cheered.

"There you have it, folks." The first female voice boomed throughout the convention center. "All nine racers have made their introductions. We'll see you all next week on the planet Aquian in the Aquis Star System, be sure to bring your snorkel gear; its gonna be a sight to see!"

Transmission End.

Cut to commercials. 

-Jestro