Beta Please?
Sep. 2nd, 2009 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
okami_huIt's rated G. I don't know if it'll ever have secks and what kind.
Atmos: the world. ("Home of a thousand mountaintop kingdoms")
terras: mountaintop mesas, where Atmos' kingdoms lie
Cyclonia: Evil empire
Wastelands: ugly place down there
Master Cyclonis & the Dark Ace: Badass villainess and badass First Lieutenant
Snipe: http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/okami_hu/trash/snipeA2.jpg "lumbering imbecile of a comic relief"
Ravess: http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/okami_hu/trash/ravess.jpg "resident arrogant beyotch"
Scavengers
Chapter one: Square one
It would have been an understatement to claim Snipe was not pleased.
Severe understatement.
He was furious, offended, vengeful... and scared. After all, this was the Wasteland. The barren, inhospitable planes far below Cyclonia's skies where he used to soar... Him, former Nimbus Leader, Air Commander, Cyclonia's best...
"We're above Doom Point, Sir."
Snipe winced. Every soldier knew the story of the geographer who named the dreaded location; legend had it, that he spent a lot of time trying to map out the Wastelands and when he was banished, he sarcastically requested to be dropped off here, at the most dangerous part. Ever since then - a hundred years or so - when somebody was banished from Cyclonia, he was brought here, given a knife and a bottle of water, and released into his doom. The Wasteland was home to many vicious beasts and the ground was often disturbed by earthquakes, magma eruptions, poisonous fumes leaking from cracks.
He turned to the random lieutenant holding the wretched survival kit. The man looked back, posture formally rigid; but in his eyes, Snipe saw something... he had to think for a moment until he managed to find the right expression to describe it.
Regret.
"I'm sorry, Sir," the soldier said quietly. "No matter what you did... we're sad to see you go."
Snipe's eyes widened. He had a good while to think, during the flight here on board the small carrier and the idle wandering of the mind brought more revelations than all his years in Cyclonian service. This last one was a bit shocking, too... He realized how selfish he had been, hogging everything to himself, riches and fame alike. Eyes clouded by self-importance, he believed that his soldiers worshiped him and even died for him happily.
And now, he had to face it that in fact, despite all he did to achieve just the opposite... these men were loyal to him. He had to swallow, to get the lump out of his throat.
"I'm... sorry as well," he admitted, for once remembering the past and dropping his persistent arrogance. He reached for the knife and the bottle. He wanted to apologize, tell the soldiers that he was unworthy of their compassion...
"Keep serving the Empire." He nodded firmly and snatched his parachute. When the hatch opened, he didn't look back.
***
Pain, searing, burning, throbbing pain. Heat, so unbearable... The disgusting stench of the Wastelands...
Snipe moaned. His consciousness returned quickly, he could feel his surroundings, but his mind slugged behind. The thin cover over his body and the gentle hand on his forehead didn't seem out of place first, even though-
The memories began to surface about the past several days; it was hard to measure time down here. Snipe recalled his journey over the hot ground, a damp cloth before his nose and mouth; the terrifying night, when a beast kept sniffling around the crack he hid into and the run for his life the next day, when said beast chased him through the most hostile terrain he ever had the misfortune to cross. And then, the hunt, for the hunger was gnawing on his insides. The lizard tasted blissfully bland. Soon after that, the water was gone and he continued his journey through the uncharted territory, not knowing where to head but determined to die on his feet. After all, it mustn't have been that hard, to find a terra to climb... Atmos was home to a thousand mountaintop kingdoms after all.
He was deterred from his goal though, when a monster - the same as before? - decided to have him for lunch. Snipe, of course, had other intentions and he fought back with teeth and claw, until the point when battle fever had covered his mind and all he wanted to do was to kill, maim and spill blood. He managed to wound the beast heavily and was about to deliver the finishing strike, when the claws hit him. The razor-sharp talons tore up his clothes and skin, etching deep crimson lines into his flesh, and the strong blow sent him flying back. His involuntary flight ended when his body smashed against a rock; the force of the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Snipe fell to the ground, grunting from pain; his last gratification was to see the monster cease breathing before he blacked out.
So... he was still alive then, wasn't he...? Snipe moaned as something wet brushed against his forehead; it chased away the heat for a moment. A few heartbeats later, some liquid was poured carefully into his mouth. Snipe suddenly realized that his throat was as dry as the sands of Terra Saharr, and he swallowed thankfully.
The sickening scent and the foul taste registered only after the third gulp.
Snipe bolted up as the wave of nausea swept over him, then immediately doubled over with a short yell, because his wounded chest protested violently against the sudden movement. He swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths.
"Do you want to poison me?! That thing is awf-"
Wait, what?
He turned his head and his eyes widened as he recognized the slim figure kneeling next to him.
"R-Ravess...?" He didn't want to believe it. "But how- What- Where-?" She looked a bit weary, with small cuts and bruises littering her skin... because the uniform she wore back then was mostly gone, replaced by makeshift pieces of clothing, probably made of some kind of lizard's skin. The magenta hair was a bit tangled and generally, she was quite far from her usual well-kept self.
"Lie back, you imbecile," she said coolly. "Your wounds will reopen if you wiggle too much and you have a fever anyway."
"I'm fine...!" Snipe growled back automatically. "What are you doing here? What was that filth you made me drink? Where are we, anyway?"
"Lie. Back."
The threat in her voice worked like a charm, spellpower established long years ago. Snipe obediently settled back, and only after that did he frown in his embarrassment, due to the fact he still reacted to that voice.
Ravess sniffled the cup she had in her hand. "Hmm, better than usual, actually. You have to get used to it, little brother. We're both outcasts now; back to square one. The water is not poisonous by the way, merely smells ugly, and tastes strange."
"It stings," Snipe noted with a slight pout. "And stinks like rotten eggs."
"The well we have is actually a sulfurous hot spring," Ravess nodded. "It's filled with some crystals and since we're still alive, it's not harmful, apparently. We can only use it sparingly though, it takes time until it fills up again."
Snipe grumbled. He liked to bathe.
"Where are we?"
"A day's walk from Doom Point, in a cave. A cave system to be exact." Ravess placed the cup down and wiped his brother's brow with a damp rag. The gesture was painfully familiar, it stirred up something in Snipe. He did his damned best to ignore it.
"It seems the old geographer of the legend was not stupid at all," she continued, sarcasm lacing her voice. "Presumably he knew this part of the Wastelands well, which is not surprising, after all, he spent the better part of his life exploring it... Doom Point seems to be quite calm in fact. The caves are easy to find, and the entrances are small, preventing the occasional monsters from entering. It's warm here and there's water, no outcast should wish for more. With a little luck, we can have fresh food every other day, too." She glanced back over her shoulder. Snipe listened, and he could make out a characteristic sound - an engine's rumble...?
"The caves are currently owned by ten former Cyclonian soldiers," Ravess continued. "They claim that they were once our soldiers..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They're telling the truth. Half a year ago, there was a battle here... We lost twenty men along with their skimmers; there had been no signs of their survival, and we didn't look, because, well, it was Doom Point. But they didn't die. Well, not all. These ten of them survived. I'm surprised they didn't tear me to pieces... and that they allowed you into their stronghold."
Ten soldiers with vehicles - because Snipe was sure of what he heard - was far from an army, but still a formidable force if used right... The former Nimbus Leader felt as if he found the ground he lost with his exile. Commanding people, leading them to battles, that was something he knew well how to do. They're going to claim a small terra, then a bigger one, recruit more soldiers... Oooh, that sounded like a plan.
"If they are soldiers and they were not exiled, we are their superiors," he claimed. "They'll obey us, and we'll get out of here." His smile turned into an evil grin. "That is, if I decide to take you with."
"Be quiet, you dimwit!" Ravess snapped. "If they hear your boasting, they might just cut your throat! Don't forget that there is ten of them, while you're alone. Everything here is owned by them; you can't even have a cup of water without their approval. Moreover, we were exiled; that means loss of rank and authority." She pressed his palm against her forehead. "Heavens, Snipe, when did you give up thinking...?"
"Shut up, Ravess. You're weak... Strength is enough to command, and as soon as I heal, I'll lead this squad."
"That will take a week at least, to heal," Ravess said, suspiciously calm. "Because, dear brother, we do not have healing crystals. No medicines either. I had to twist an arm just to get your wounds bandaged. The Scavengers are worse off than the beggars at home."
Snipe gritted his teeth. Somewhere deep inside, he knew his sister was right, but the persistently built arrogance in him didn't want to accept the truth. He had risen from the dirt to the fullest glory; there was no way he could fall again!
"I'll show you," he hissed. "I will get back to Cyclonia and reclaim my old post... Just make sure I'll get back on my feet quickly!"
"Suuure," Ravess drawled. "Except I can't really do anything for you aside getting you water and wash the bandages..." She leaned closer. "You will see, Snipe. You will understand that what we had is gone, and we need to start again. I hope it happens before something kills you, because I need you. I don't plan to rot down here, either, I want to go back to the terras - Atmos is huge and there's life outside Cyclonia. But I cannot do it alone, and you can't, either. We'll have to work together."
From outside, a male voice drifted in. "Ravess? The lizards aren't gonna skin themselves you know!"
"I'll be there in a minute!" Ravess called back, then glared at her brother. "Rest and heal. Drink the water, I have worked for the extra portion." She stood up.
Snipe grinned. "What, you've sold your body for it?"
Ravess' lips thinned into a firm line and her golden eyes narrowed. Again, Snipe noticed something in the stare, and the intensity of it diminished the further mocking.
"Back to square one, brother," Ravess said quietly. "Back to square one."
She left and Snipe was left alone with the memories of their past, which had been buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. He closed his eyes, attempting to drift into a sleep, and tried to convince himself that it's the Wasteland's fumes which sting his eyes, and definitely not tears.
Atmos: the world. ("Home of a thousand mountaintop kingdoms")
terras: mountaintop mesas, where Atmos' kingdoms lie
Cyclonia: Evil empire
Wastelands: ugly place down there
Master Cyclonis & the Dark Ace: Badass villainess and badass First Lieutenant
Snipe: http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/okami_hu/trash/snipeA2.jpg "lumbering imbecile of a comic relief"
Ravess: http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/okami_hu/trash/ravess.jpg "resident arrogant beyotch"
Scavengers
Chapter one: Square one
It would have been an understatement to claim Snipe was not pleased.
Severe understatement.
He was furious, offended, vengeful... and scared. After all, this was the Wasteland. The barren, inhospitable planes far below Cyclonia's skies where he used to soar... Him, former Nimbus Leader, Air Commander, Cyclonia's best...
"We're above Doom Point, Sir."
Snipe winced. Every soldier knew the story of the geographer who named the dreaded location; legend had it, that he spent a lot of time trying to map out the Wastelands and when he was banished, he sarcastically requested to be dropped off here, at the most dangerous part. Ever since then - a hundred years or so - when somebody was banished from Cyclonia, he was brought here, given a knife and a bottle of water, and released into his doom. The Wasteland was home to many vicious beasts and the ground was often disturbed by earthquakes, magma eruptions, poisonous fumes leaking from cracks.
He turned to the random lieutenant holding the wretched survival kit. The man looked back, posture formally rigid; but in his eyes, Snipe saw something... he had to think for a moment until he managed to find the right expression to describe it.
Regret.
"I'm sorry, Sir," the soldier said quietly. "No matter what you did... we're sad to see you go."
Snipe's eyes widened. He had a good while to think, during the flight here on board the small carrier and the idle wandering of the mind brought more revelations than all his years in Cyclonian service. This last one was a bit shocking, too... He realized how selfish he had been, hogging everything to himself, riches and fame alike. Eyes clouded by self-importance, he believed that his soldiers worshiped him and even died for him happily.
And now, he had to face it that in fact, despite all he did to achieve just the opposite... these men were loyal to him. He had to swallow, to get the lump out of his throat.
"I'm... sorry as well," he admitted, for once remembering the past and dropping his persistent arrogance. He reached for the knife and the bottle. He wanted to apologize, tell the soldiers that he was unworthy of their compassion...
"Keep serving the Empire." He nodded firmly and snatched his parachute. When the hatch opened, he didn't look back.
***
Pain, searing, burning, throbbing pain. Heat, so unbearable... The disgusting stench of the Wastelands...
Snipe moaned. His consciousness returned quickly, he could feel his surroundings, but his mind slugged behind. The thin cover over his body and the gentle hand on his forehead didn't seem out of place first, even though-
The memories began to surface about the past several days; it was hard to measure time down here. Snipe recalled his journey over the hot ground, a damp cloth before his nose and mouth; the terrifying night, when a beast kept sniffling around the crack he hid into and the run for his life the next day, when said beast chased him through the most hostile terrain he ever had the misfortune to cross. And then, the hunt, for the hunger was gnawing on his insides. The lizard tasted blissfully bland. Soon after that, the water was gone and he continued his journey through the uncharted territory, not knowing where to head but determined to die on his feet. After all, it mustn't have been that hard, to find a terra to climb... Atmos was home to a thousand mountaintop kingdoms after all.
He was deterred from his goal though, when a monster - the same as before? - decided to have him for lunch. Snipe, of course, had other intentions and he fought back with teeth and claw, until the point when battle fever had covered his mind and all he wanted to do was to kill, maim and spill blood. He managed to wound the beast heavily and was about to deliver the finishing strike, when the claws hit him. The razor-sharp talons tore up his clothes and skin, etching deep crimson lines into his flesh, and the strong blow sent him flying back. His involuntary flight ended when his body smashed against a rock; the force of the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Snipe fell to the ground, grunting from pain; his last gratification was to see the monster cease breathing before he blacked out.
So... he was still alive then, wasn't he...? Snipe moaned as something wet brushed against his forehead; it chased away the heat for a moment. A few heartbeats later, some liquid was poured carefully into his mouth. Snipe suddenly realized that his throat was as dry as the sands of Terra Saharr, and he swallowed thankfully.
The sickening scent and the foul taste registered only after the third gulp.
Snipe bolted up as the wave of nausea swept over him, then immediately doubled over with a short yell, because his wounded chest protested violently against the sudden movement. He swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths.
"Do you want to poison me?! That thing is awf-"
Wait, what?
He turned his head and his eyes widened as he recognized the slim figure kneeling next to him.
"R-Ravess...?" He didn't want to believe it. "But how- What- Where-?" She looked a bit weary, with small cuts and bruises littering her skin... because the uniform she wore back then was mostly gone, replaced by makeshift pieces of clothing, probably made of some kind of lizard's skin. The magenta hair was a bit tangled and generally, she was quite far from her usual well-kept self.
"Lie back, you imbecile," she said coolly. "Your wounds will reopen if you wiggle too much and you have a fever anyway."
"I'm fine...!" Snipe growled back automatically. "What are you doing here? What was that filth you made me drink? Where are we, anyway?"
"Lie. Back."
The threat in her voice worked like a charm, spellpower established long years ago. Snipe obediently settled back, and only after that did he frown in his embarrassment, due to the fact he still reacted to that voice.
Ravess sniffled the cup she had in her hand. "Hmm, better than usual, actually. You have to get used to it, little brother. We're both outcasts now; back to square one. The water is not poisonous by the way, merely smells ugly, and tastes strange."
"It stings," Snipe noted with a slight pout. "And stinks like rotten eggs."
"The well we have is actually a sulfurous hot spring," Ravess nodded. "It's filled with some crystals and since we're still alive, it's not harmful, apparently. We can only use it sparingly though, it takes time until it fills up again."
Snipe grumbled. He liked to bathe.
"Where are we?"
"A day's walk from Doom Point, in a cave. A cave system to be exact." Ravess placed the cup down and wiped his brother's brow with a damp rag. The gesture was painfully familiar, it stirred up something in Snipe. He did his damned best to ignore it.
"It seems the old geographer of the legend was not stupid at all," she continued, sarcasm lacing her voice. "Presumably he knew this part of the Wastelands well, which is not surprising, after all, he spent the better part of his life exploring it... Doom Point seems to be quite calm in fact. The caves are easy to find, and the entrances are small, preventing the occasional monsters from entering. It's warm here and there's water, no outcast should wish for more. With a little luck, we can have fresh food every other day, too." She glanced back over her shoulder. Snipe listened, and he could make out a characteristic sound - an engine's rumble...?
"The caves are currently owned by ten former Cyclonian soldiers," Ravess continued. "They claim that they were once our soldiers..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They're telling the truth. Half a year ago, there was a battle here... We lost twenty men along with their skimmers; there had been no signs of their survival, and we didn't look, because, well, it was Doom Point. But they didn't die. Well, not all. These ten of them survived. I'm surprised they didn't tear me to pieces... and that they allowed you into their stronghold."
Ten soldiers with vehicles - because Snipe was sure of what he heard - was far from an army, but still a formidable force if used right... The former Nimbus Leader felt as if he found the ground he lost with his exile. Commanding people, leading them to battles, that was something he knew well how to do. They're going to claim a small terra, then a bigger one, recruit more soldiers... Oooh, that sounded like a plan.
"If they are soldiers and they were not exiled, we are their superiors," he claimed. "They'll obey us, and we'll get out of here." His smile turned into an evil grin. "That is, if I decide to take you with."
"Be quiet, you dimwit!" Ravess snapped. "If they hear your boasting, they might just cut your throat! Don't forget that there is ten of them, while you're alone. Everything here is owned by them; you can't even have a cup of water without their approval. Moreover, we were exiled; that means loss of rank and authority." She pressed his palm against her forehead. "Heavens, Snipe, when did you give up thinking...?"
"Shut up, Ravess. You're weak... Strength is enough to command, and as soon as I heal, I'll lead this squad."
"That will take a week at least, to heal," Ravess said, suspiciously calm. "Because, dear brother, we do not have healing crystals. No medicines either. I had to twist an arm just to get your wounds bandaged. The Scavengers are worse off than the beggars at home."
Snipe gritted his teeth. Somewhere deep inside, he knew his sister was right, but the persistently built arrogance in him didn't want to accept the truth. He had risen from the dirt to the fullest glory; there was no way he could fall again!
"I'll show you," he hissed. "I will get back to Cyclonia and reclaim my old post... Just make sure I'll get back on my feet quickly!"
"Suuure," Ravess drawled. "Except I can't really do anything for you aside getting you water and wash the bandages..." She leaned closer. "You will see, Snipe. You will understand that what we had is gone, and we need to start again. I hope it happens before something kills you, because I need you. I don't plan to rot down here, either, I want to go back to the terras - Atmos is huge and there's life outside Cyclonia. But I cannot do it alone, and you can't, either. We'll have to work together."
From outside, a male voice drifted in. "Ravess? The lizards aren't gonna skin themselves you know!"
"I'll be there in a minute!" Ravess called back, then glared at her brother. "Rest and heal. Drink the water, I have worked for the extra portion." She stood up.
Snipe grinned. "What, you've sold your body for it?"
Ravess' lips thinned into a firm line and her golden eyes narrowed. Again, Snipe noticed something in the stare, and the intensity of it diminished the further mocking.
"Back to square one, brother," Ravess said quietly. "Back to square one."
She left and Snipe was left alone with the memories of their past, which had been buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. He closed his eyes, attempting to drift into a sleep, and tried to convince himself that it's the Wasteland's fumes which sting his eyes, and definitely not tears.
