tales
OF THE
MONSTAROUS
A collection
of stories, art, and worlds
Created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron
Welcome to the official page where I share my writing alongside character & world lore! While I do share my characters, stories, and writing on my social media, this is where I may share and archive work that I both share publicly and exclusively on this page.Please feel free to take a look around and explore my worlds, art, and writing for yourself!Have any questions? Check out the link below for important information, content warnings, and a general art Q & A.Any other questions may be referred to my e-mail: [email protected]
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the ekanox
The Ekanox is a horror world building and narrative anthology project that takes place over six thousand years in the future after a world changing apocalypse has destroyed the Earth, turning it into a desolate wasteland.
Over a millenia after the Ekanox made contact with Earth and released its pestilence upon the planet, Earth has succumbed to a calamity. The infected, known as beasts, roam the surface in a northern land now known as Akuria. What has come of the rest of the world remains a mystery... as far as the Akurians know, they're the last of humanity. The Akurians live hidden away behind a massive wall known as the "Blood Wall", their only protection against the apocalyptic wasteland. Humans known as "hunters" are responsible for hunting and harvesting the beasts for parts and protecting the Blood Wall Society.
BLADE IN THE CITY
Blade in the City is a sci-fi thriller and psychological horror worldbuilding project that takes place thousands of years in the future after humanity's extinction. In this future Earth, creatures derived from man-made bioweapons known as "animans" rule the world. Following in the ruins of humanity, animans have rebuilt the Earth and reestablished new countries, territories, and cities. In addition, they exist with advanced technology and artificial intelligence.
other original worlds
More worlds and characters that may not be directly attached to a major worldbuilding project and general stories & art of mine.
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
other original worlds
Stories from beyond and below.
This page will be updated accordingly as I write more!
More worlds and characters that may not be directly attached to a major worldbuilding project and general stories & art of mine.
Have any comments about my art and/or writing? Submit them HERE! :3
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
KAIJU SHORT: PALE SKIN
SYNOPSISSometime in the future, experimental scientists have pursued biological advancements like no other. Dr. Orson Pierre, a kind and happy family man, had developed a new strain of cells. Though, the project falls far out of his hands, leading to a catastrophe of titanic heights. In the process, Pierre loses himself and more than he could have ever imagined. Now, a massive creature rampages through the countryside in search of something precious.
The cool afternoon air was calming on the doctor's face, fresh, sharp, and much needed after a long day in the stale environment of his lab. The doctor inhaled slowly, taking in that breath until his lungs couldn’t hold any more. He then exhaled, opening his eyes to see his kitchen. Their kitchen was small and homey, sporting nothing more than a modest thrifted table in the center, a countertop nearby that extended just a little too far and containing a stove that was just a little too small. He always hated that imperfection; not so much in that moment.From behind he heard light footsteps bounding towards him. The doctor turned to see his smiling daughter. Mira had light auburn hair, so light it could almost pass as brown, long enough it reached her knees. She was the spitting image of her mother. The doctor smiled back.She wrapped one of her arms around her father’s shoulder and cupped her hand over his ear. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Mira preferred to whisper to him rather than talk when it came to telling him something important. This time, however, something was different. Instead of whispering, she said nothing.The doctor squinted. Still, Mira said nothing. He shifted his gaze and realized Mira was staring at something next to him. When he averted his attention to look in the same direction, the kitchen was vacant. He was about to speak, when suddenly both of Mira’s hands grabbed either side of his face and she shrieked two words.“COME BACK.”The kitchen was gone.For a short while, there was nothing but darkness and that bitter smell.
Then came a flash of light and a more unfamiliar sight became visible.The cool afternoon was replaced with something more damp and uncomfortable. Almost… bitter. The smell of smoke and decay wormed its way into its lungs. Fumes wafted in the stagnant air, engulfing everything around. The kitchen was now an echo.Rotten haze emitted from an organic mass that towered above the land, obstructing the clear blue sky. This mass was a cumbersome body made of flesh– its build was strict, intolerable, so titanic that it walked as if it pulled the weight of a mountain. Short, multi-clawed legs dragged along the land, heavy clawed feet crushing everything beneath them and a long, blistered tail swept in slow arcs powerful enough to level the terrain. Blisters and boils rose on every inch of skin, and its every movement was arthritic. As Pierre lumbered forward, helicopters hovered by it on either side. For now, it paid no mind to them.Pierre trudged over the flat countryside, which was dappled with small homes and farms. Ruin followed its dreadful wake. Its clustered limbs carved craters in the ground with every step. Smoke clouded its one good eye, but Pierre could not blink, nor even close its tooth-covered maw, so swollen and malfigured was its face. I don’t like this body, Pierre mused, painfully.
This body was heavy and this body hurt.This body weighed on the beast as the world once did.The world… What was this world? Its head tilted, for just a moment it glanced downward at the buildings and grassy foliage beneath. To the mountainous thing, the sight of greenery was misshapen beyond recognition– everything was. Fluid impeded its vision. Not tears, but something gelatinous and confining, as if its one singular eye was beginning to burst from its skull. If it had a skull, that was. It was hard to tell what belonged to it and what did not. Pierre was terrified, and it wanted nothing more than to see and feel its limbs as its own. At the thought of this, its malleable, loose jaw slithered open, some black flesh dripping from its maw as it did so.From a dark mouth lined with decaying material and rows of car-sized teeth, a shrieking roar released into the air. The helicopters flying around it shook from the sheer volume; a few backed off, but two others persisted. Pierre noticed the helicopters, its singular eye lazily rolling to the side to peer at one of the aircrafts. Two of its disjointed arms– sprouting from what were once shoulder blades– raised in retaliation. One almost-good arm on its right and a long tail-like limb sprouting from its left shoulder socket writhed in an attempt to shift with coherence. The tail-arm began to raise, the end of the thing dragging along the farmland, leveling each with its slow movement. In a whip-like crack, Pierre’s tail-arm swung down on the helicopter on its left side.The aircraft exploded into a corona of debris. Shrapnels of metal whirred out to the ground hundreds of feet below and into Pierre's skin. Metal lodged itself into corpse skin and a cluster of boils on the beast’s back. The blisters burst open, spewing yellow, acidic liquid. The pain was unbearable, like nothing Pierre had felt before. Heat seared its skin, as if the sun itself had made its home in the injury. For a moment this stopped the creature, and once more its maw opened and it cried out in terror and pain.Pierre’s vision began to blur, obscured by fog. The fog was white, almost pearl-like. Within moments the pearl-fog had seemed to solidify, like tiles lining what became something like a room. A familiar room.Familiar how? I don’t know, Pierre thought.
He did not know.Who was He?
Pierre knew this doctor. How? It did not know.It remembered this lab. Somehow all of it was familiar. The floor and ceiling were identical, lined with tiny square panels made of some substance that was able to withstand something powerful. Familiarity was divorced from understanding. Whatever this place was, Pierre had been here before. How, why, and what, was far beyond it now. It was here now. The pain from the metal had faded for the moment.The sound of voices became more legible. What they said meant little to Pierre, despite that they too sounded familiar.“How long has he been in there?” a woman’s voice inquired.“About fifteen days now. He hasn’t spoken since Thursday. I don’t think he can speak anymore,” another voice responded, this time a man. His voice was slightly higher-pitched.There it was again. Him.Pierre’s vision began to focus. It came to realize that it was surrounded by the white tiles and not far ahead of it was a pane of foggy glass. Behind it, Pierre could make out two humanoid figures. That was where the voices were coming from.The woman spoke again. “His wife isn’t going to be happy about this. Does she know?”“No, we haven’t told her. He said it was best to go no-contact if something happened. Especially for his daughter,” the man replied, his voice slightly somber. “At this point, there’s nothing we can do but watch.”Pierre couldn’t quite tell, but it swore it saw the woman shiver. Her faceless head leaned down slightly, as if saddened by something. Pierre shifted.“At the very least, we can let them know he’s alive. He has a daughter, for goodness sake. Mira deserves to know what happened to her father. Do you have his home address?” the woman said, turning so that she was no longer facing the glass.Pierre could not make out the man’s reply. It opened its mouth, yet no words of its own came, only an equally incomprehensible sound that vaguely resembled that of a human voice. For a moment, the man in the glass looked at Pierre, only to turn away as the woman had.Pierre began to fuss. Why weren’t they listening to it? It was speaking! It can speak!Please, oh please, hear me. Please! I can talk!More sounds and screeches. No words. They were walking away now. Pierre shook its head from side to side violently, continuing the series of disturbing, uncanny howls.
What happened to my voice?Eventually, Pierre could no longer howl and everything was black again. Once more it felt a searing pain somewhere in its body. Just as the kitchen had dissipated, the lab too began to descend into darkness.As its vision refocused, it realized the pain was on its lower side; another blister opened. One of the human aircrafts had shot at it again.
Pierre found the energy to howl once more. As light flashed into its one good eye, its maw stretched open, crackling and fizzling as sores popped from the sheer pressure of its jaw separating, a piercing roar shrouded the air. It now cried to be known, to be understood. It did not even understand itself. Perhaps nobody would ever understand it.Its head lowered and it lifted one heavy leg, daring to step forward, never minding the heaviness in its head and chest. To its knowledge, it had no organs. If it did, its heart would be breaking right now.
As one coagulated foot followed the other, Pierre had come to realize that after all this time, it had been walking in some direction. It was moving forward somewhere— at least it could understand that. Wherever it was going, however, remained an unfortunate mystery.
Just keep going. The ground will guide me, won’t it?Pierre ignored the aircrafts and ignored the humans screaming for mercy below. It had to get home. That’s what the people in its vision had mentioned, home. That must be where Pierre was going. Home was still a mystery, but at least now the mystery had a name.Beneath him, the setting eventually began to change. There were more buildings now, many of which were crushed beneath Pierre’s eldritch mass. The aircrafts continued to follow Pierre, although now they seemed to be keeping their distance. At least that meant that there would be no more metal in its body. It was feeling more than enough pain at this point-- so much that it almost felt numb. The only thing driving the vast mound of flesh was pure instinct. The further it moved, the more aware of its surroundings it became.Screams echoed below, following every rumble of echoing, titanic stomps. The voices of the innocent rang in its ears like a horrible squeal, a desperate plea for mercy. Pierre despised the feeling of concrete and bodies crushing beneath its weight, yet there was nothing that it could do. Pierre wished that it could spare them the mercy that they wailed for. The only mercy they found was in death.
The creature released a guttural sound; a pathetic excuse for an apology for the ruination it did not wish to cause. From what it could remember, it never quite experienced guilt like this. Pierre’s eye sluggishly rolled downward, its gaze focusing on the apocalyptic rubble beneath. Despite the marred land, Pierre could vaguely comprehend the neighborhood below. Somehow it was a place of remembrance. Much like the memories Pierre had been lost in before, this place…Pierre came to a halt. The screams beneath continued. Vehicles and aircrafts rushed in circles around the beast. Pierre remained still.
A vague recollection echoed in the back of its mind. This place was familiar after all. Pierre had been here before. Pierre knew what this place was. Where it was remained unclear, but Pierre realized this neighborhood was part of the ghosts that echoed head. It was special somehow. Pierre shrieked once more. It staggered ever so slightly to the side, bulbous masses moving with it. This was the right place to be, it could sense it.Suddenly, an echo whispered to the disfigured creature once more.“COME BACK.”At the sound of the familiar young girl’s voice in the back of its mind, Pierre growled out with what was impossible to perceive as guilt. Its eye slithered shut and rolled open again. Now Pierre remained deathly still and it felt as if the air too had fallen into doldrum with it.“Mira?” Pierre heard another voice in its mind. This voice seemed to come from its own mouth, its own tongue, its own body. It was not an echo like everything else… Pierre had spoken, albeit within its own mind. Now it could speak to the echoes.In its exterior, Pierre was ever still. Inside, its mind raced.. “Mira? Mira I’m here! I came back!” Pierre called to the echo.“Dad?” He heard Mira’s voice call back to it… to him.She was silent now.For as long as Pierre could remember, its sense of self was lost entirely to the mutilation of both its mind and body. Pierre, for a time, wondered if it contained a sense of self to begin with; now it knew. He knew.Mira was his daughter. This neighborhood was his home. Maybe there was a before after all. A sense of self had always existed because he had always been the same. Pierre gazed downward to his hand. In his mind, it was that of a human. His eye strained, staying wide open in the fear that if he were to blink, he would be met with the reality of what he truly was.
“Mira, I’m so sorry.” Pierre’s voice quivered. “I won’t leave you again…”Pierre could hardly feel his legs and his head was elsewhere. Pierre had begun to fall to his side. He fell with little grace, gravity sluggishly yet harshly pulling him to the ground. Screams rang out and were silenced within seconds when Pierre’s pale body met the dirt. His jaw separated slightly as a weak, haggard breath left his congested throat.“I’m here now,” Pierre wanted to say aloud, yet all that erupted from a dark cavern of teeth was a sorrowful gurgle. He could no longer move, not even to lift himself back to his feet. He was far too exhausted to do so. At least here, collapsed on the ground, he would no longer bring damage to those around him.Now that he had found his place on the ground amongst the rubble he caused, he no longer contained the drive to move further. He was where he belonged. Although this neighborhood was otherwise alien in its visage, Pierre knew that it was right. With the weight of gravity pulling on his titanic body, his head and limbs felt leaden.Pierre mustered the strength to turn his head when he detected a nearby sound. Survivors were screaming, running away as fast as they could from a beast that did not want to hurt them. Pierre wailed at this, as if to try to quell their terror. A sluggish, boil-covered arm weakly raised, reaching for the terrified civilians. Instead, his arm fell with a titanic thud.What was the point of this? Pierre thought to himself as he watched the ant-sized people disappear into the clouds formed from destruction. Pierre had come all this way for something and now more than ever, when he needed the echoes, they were silent. He couldn’t hear Mira’s voice or his own.Something had happened to him, a long, long time ago. Something happened that made him this way, and now he wanted nothing more than to be home with whom he assumed he loved. Pierre was just about ready to give up. His eye began to grovel shut when suddenly he heard a quiet voice amidst the surrounding calamity.“Monster?”Pierre’s eye shot open. Mira’s voice. His head raised, every nerve and blistered muscle shaking in his neck. That voice… it wasn’t an echo this time. Her voice was nearer than it had been before. His eye spiraled in circles to try to find the source of her voice. Then, among the charred rubble and wreckage of homes that once carried loving memories, he saw a small child standing not far from where his arm had fallen. She looked just like the girl in his memories.Pierre’s hand twitched, indicating that he saw her. He growled, his voice quieter and less pained now. The girl, bewildered, walked closer to the beast. There was no one else around her, leaving Pierre to assume that whomever she had been with had either run off or he had killed them. His stomach— if he even had one now— churned with disgust and sorrow, mutated into one just as his own tortured body was. Somehow, he felt less heavy. Gravity was like a gentle wave crashing over him, beckoning him to remain tethered to the Earth. His attention was focused on the young girl more than anything, in recognizing her he could ignore every discomfort within and around him.This was his purpose, to find her again, just as he had promised he would. Once and for all, he was defeated. Not by man or machine, but by his own will. His will began to fade into a void of nothingness, as he had fulfilled his purpose. Pierre accepted that he would never truly know who he was or who Mira was. He knew that once upon a time, she was his daughter.The corners of his barely-closed, teeth-ridden mouth curled upwards into the facade of a grin. His head fell limp against the ground. For the last time, he smiled at his daughter.Goodbye, Mira.The cool afternoon air was once more welcome as he finally closed his eye.
KAIJU SHORT: INTERNAL SUFFERING
SYNOPSISNadia, now the Automaton, reflects on her state of being.
What a loathsome sound; the sound of machinery turning in on itself, computers exchanging encrypted words of the unknown. This too she had grown used to. Yet, as the days passed, as the machines clattered against one another and the computers chanted their rituals, she was reminded of everything she once was and will never be again.Day by day, data-laced words become more comprehensible. Nadia began to understand why the machines partook in this never ending battle. Olympus made them this way, just as they had made her this way. Now, Nadia was no different from the machines and computers.Nadia wondered, do the machines and computers feel the same way as she did? She pondered if they too sit in stagnant solitude, watching the world pass them by, wanting to reach out and greet the men and women that stared down at them everyday. Nadia had the privilege of experiencing the world before the Automaton was conceived, Nadia drank the riches of mortality. Whilst now, combined as one, the Automaton was cursed, knowing that as long as the machines turned their cogs, she too would turn, immortally, with them.
the ekanox
Stories from the world of the Ekanox.
This page will be updated accordingly as I write more!
Have any comments about my art and/or writing? Submit them HERE! :3
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
the ekanox
THE EKANOX: MYRIAD TEMPLE
SYNOPSISThistle Khousuuh recounts a terrifying memory of their past and faces the great deity that changed the Earth. Thistle has not yet overcome this terror and is left with questions of the deity's intent.
“Akuria is scorched red by the blood of the Elder God. The equinox deity tends to the breathing land and its horrible beasts. Only may the one born of Thunder speak to the red, as it speaks to them. Through the red shall they see visions. Visions of their own flesh, visions of the Elder God’s flesh. Intertwined, may they be tormented by the knowledge of the universe.”— The Prophecy of Hinaarah.
CHAPTER 1: THE BEFORE
Year 8916, January 3rd.In the heart of Caerulem, not far from the Blood Wall, the late evening was still aside from the few animals that flew past towering skyscrapers and people that wandered the streets. The city around them was void of the sound of machinery and music. This city was unlike the ones before it; rather, it was enveloped in the sound of nature. Nightlife such as insects and birds sung into the starry sky. This apartment building in particular was the most silent, for it was predominantly uninhabited aside from a few people on the lower levels. Pani lived on the highest floor.From scattered candles, arrays of warm colors painted the apartment. These rooms were once part of what would have been a storage room of some kind, now converted to a comfortable living space for two. In the beginning, Thistle never truly had a place to call home. They lived between places; the hunter base and Pani’s apartment. Now, her apartment had become something of a home to them.Thistle was curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets that they had strung together some few hours ago. When they had once been full of energy, the day ran them dry, and they now laid tiredly in their bed-nest. Pani, meanwhile, was drawing nearby, focused on detailing the figure she was drawing. Thistle tried to pay attention, but as exhaustion settled in, they had quietly begun to reminisce on their thoughts. This happened almost every night, because Thistle knew that one way or another, with sleep came dreams.Their dreams, recallings of old memories, only lasted for the time they endured them. Thistle had come to realize that these are not dreams: they were nightmares. There was one thing that they remembered, despite that. Thistle knew that when they slept, their mind did not drift into the same state as others did. Rather, their entire being shifted to a place no man nor monster belonged. Through the festering anguish, they remembered the strange place they ended up after every memory. It was a place of red; a realm that didn’t feel quite real, but not fake either.This was the realm of the Ekanox, the great deity that had made waste of the Earth centuries ago and now lived in dormancy, only reaching out to the Thunder Dragon when it saw fit. When Thistle closed their eyes, they found themself in a realm beyond comprehension; no matter how dreamlike it was. They had accepted that it was reality. Thistle had a connection of some kind to the elder god and the world it had created. They had always heard the dead whisper to them, their voices quiet enough that Thistle never quite understood them. The beasts birthed from the eternal flesh were otherwise wordless creatures, unlike their god. Even the Blood Wall spoke to Thistle— at least she was kind.When it came to remembering their nightmares, Thistle preferred the Ekanox’s strange, red place. Their time with their family’s cult, the Revisioners, had since become a jaded memory, one that they dreamed of forgetting. As cloudy as their memories with the Revisioners were, they would never truly forget the years of isolation. Years of being forced to torment others, being raised as a monster rather than a person. In truth, they were human, just like everyone else. But they were treated as a beast, being told that they were the only living dragon in Akuria.That made them special somehow , a great beast able to dance between worlds and speak to the dead.Thistle could care less about how they were idolized in their youth, yet a part of their subconscious would always struggle to detach from it. Every one of those memories had faded to the back of mind, though. Outside of the Revisioners, nobody truly knew where the great Thunder Dragon hailed from; only that they were born from an ever greater family that had ties to the Revisioners’ legendary Temple of the Ekanox and the Western Hunters. Thistle was content with that. Nobody needed to know, especially not about their… dreams.They would rather forget everything that had led them to where they were today. Had such things not occurred… Then they wouldn’t be here at all. Though, Thistle couldn’t help but wonder how things would have been if the Revisioners were just a little kinder.No matter how deeply they repressed those memories, they always had a way of coming back to Thistle. At least the realm they dreamt in was familiar. That night, they were dreading the moment they’d finally lay their head to rest, mostly because that night they were dwelling more than they should have been. At least they had managed to stay awake for a while watching their partner work and softly talk nearby. Her voice brought them back to reality just a bit.If anything good could be rescued from all the pain they'd endured, that would be that it had led them to their partner, Pani. It led them to their brothers, Knox and Lycidas. To their sister, Arden. Their real family. Thistle smiled slightly at the thought of them, the mere remembrance of their found family bringing them a sense of ease. Whenever they found themself dwelling, they thought of their family. They were the ones that showed them that the world could be kind and that they too were capable of such kindness.Thistle’s head slanted when they heard Pani move. They were momentarily broken from thought, sleepy eyes wandering to look at the artist sat near them.Pani sat on the floor atop a cushioned pillow, focused on whatever she was drawing in her sketchbook. She looked so peaceful, but they knew that she too was tormented by things left unspoken. They didn’t need to speak of it, not anymore. In that moment there was only peace. Thistle was too exhausted to really make out what she was drawing. It vaguely looked like them. Even without recognizing what it was, they felt calmed by it. By her presence. Despite how heavy their body felt, they couldn’t bring themself to fall asleep. They yawned, their hands reaching out from under the blanket to rub their sleepy eyes.There seemed to have caught Pani’s attention. The woman’s attention drifted from her work to Thistle. “You don’t need to wait for me, you know,” she insisted as she reached to undo her hair, long black locks falling to her shoulders.Thistle’s tail swayed behind them and they rolled onto their side, sighing out. “I know. I just… uhm,” their lips pursed in thought as they contemplated an excuse. “I like to watch you draw.”Pani chuckled, “I know you do, Thistle.”She set her sketchbook aside and scooted over, to which the bed was no more than a comfy mattress on the floor covered in pillows and blankets. Her hand cupped Thistle’s cheek. She gently smushed their face before pushing their head into the bed. Thistle poked their blue, forked tongue out slightly before their dark claws snatched up a hand-woven blanket.“But you haven’t properly slept in days. Get some shut eye. You’re gonna need it if you’re hunting with Knox tomorrow.” Pani scolded gently.Thistle let out a reptilian chitter of retort as they rolled back into the bed, curling up in the blanket they had taken. They peeked out from beneath it, the blanket propped up over their large horns.“I’ll only sleep if you promise to join us on the hunt tomorrow,” Thistle bargained tiredly. “ And if you show me what you’re drawing.”At that it seemed like Pani had affectionately rolled her eyes. She scooted over, sitting beside Thistle on the bed. “Fine, I’ll join you on your hunt,” she began as she upturned her sketchbook.“Here.”Pani presented the sketchbook to the dragon, who lifted their head just enough to observe what was on the page. Upon tea-stained paper was an elegant drawing of an infected beast. Thistle guessed it was one from her imagination, for they had never seen anything like it before. She was good at that, creating creatures in her mind. Before they could compliment her, their lips pulled back in a yawn, massive fangs outstretching as sleep took a hold of them.Pani smiled, pulling the blanket over Thistle’s head. Thistle chittered again, letting their head fall against the pillow. It was a good drawing, they just didn’t have the words to say it. Pani didn’t mind, not at all. Moments later, her attention turned back to drawing the charcoal beast.It only took a few minutes before the massive dragon was comfortably beginning to close their eyes. There was nothing to be afraid of here. Finally, they allowed their more than evident exhaustion to take over. They were too drained of their energy to fight it anymore.Whether they liked it or not, they were going to meet the Ekanox again— hopefully without any memories.
CHAPTER 2: RED TEMPLE
For a little while there was a peaceful silence accompanied by a comforting darkness. They were safe in Pani’s presence. Surely no bad dreams could dwindle in their mind now. That was so until he had opened their eyes again— but they were not in bed beside Pani. They were somewhere else entirely.They should have been surprised, but he was not. That didn’t shake the anxiety that washed over them the moment their eyes focused on their surroundings.No longer were they safe and secure with her. Even their friends were out of reach. Now Thistle felt cold and their head had begun to hurt from the deafening silence. The silence was more like a droning hum. They covered their ears and squeezed their eyes shut again, murmuring to themself over and over. “ It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real… ” Thistle recognized this place. They had been here in their mind before. He didn’t even need to open their eyes to know what this place was, the silent hum and the smell of metallic blood was all that they needed to know, all too familiar to Thistle…The statues.The marble.The red.It was the Temple of the Ekanox. That horrid place in which they were born and raised in. A temple made to hail and Elder God that was responsible for tormenting them with their own experiences. Moons had passed since they had last visited this place, they wondered why the Ekanox brought them here this time. That wonder was short-lived, however.They realized there was a bedroom, specifically their mother’s chambers. An old and wretched place Thistle had no fond memory of. Her personal chambers were nearly twenty feet tall in height, perhaps even larger in length. Her bed sat at the end of the chamber, where they knew she was sitting. She was always sitting there looking crooked and upset, picking away at her skin; skin that revealed growing scales. Their mother was a dragon like them, but unlike Thistle, she was not a fully blooded dragon. Their parents, although draconic, were only half blooded. They disliked how rotten their mother had begun to smell when she began to transform into her draconic body.The physical change from human to monster was a slow and daunting process that Thistle had fortunately never endured and never would. They were the first Akurian dragon to be freed from the inevitable transformation, one that was caused by mysterious forces beyond understanding. Come to think of it, they could never remember a time their mother didn’t smell as rotten as she acted. She was obsessive over maintaining her human form despite that now she looked more animalistic than ever. She had scales on her arms and legs, horns and a tail like Thistle did. Instead of these features naturally occurring on the body… it was like her draconic form was slowly and painfully bursting from the inside out.That was how Thistle remembered their wretched mother.Not only was her physical form putrid, Thistle had come to learn that she never truly wanted the best for them. No matter how many times she told them, her actions spoke otherwise. Her dishonesty hurt more than any injury she had caused them. Yet here Thistle still cared for her in some way. And there she sat before them on her bed, staring with dead eyes as she always had. Thistle swallowed the bile in their throat and stared back at her. She said nothing to her child, merely glaring in their direction. Her gaze was as sharp as daggers, as judgemental as the end of days.Thistle felt their heart sink in their chest, knowing that if they were to say anything they would surely be met with her wrath. Thistle always had been, So, they did what they always knew to do, and that was to keep their head low as they slowly trudged towards her.“Mama? Are you alright?” Thistle asked, their ears pinned back. Despite that they were still themself in this moment, they felt like a young child in this dream.No response from their mother.She twitched and peeled away more of her skin. Black, rotten blood splattered from the skin peeled off her scaly arm. The flesh fell to the floor, revealing twisted tendons beneath growing scales. She stood slowly, a haggard, raspy breath leaving her pale lips. “ It’s… It’s time, ” she rasped out.Thistle froze in their steps, hugging their arms around themself. Thistle didn’t like this memory. It had been a while since this one had replayed in their mind. They hated this one because it was so vivid. They clenched their jaw before speaking, “I know. But I…” Thistle remembered what they had said to her as a child. “I have a toothache. Chipped my fang.”“And you think that will stop the ritual, boy?” their mother whispered back in her breathy voice.Now Thistle was silent.She scowled, beginning to limp towards them and pulled her torn robes over herself to hide her scaly arms. From beneath her robes a boney, clawed hand reached to grab Thistle by the forearm. Thistle remembered how cold her hands felt. They still felt as cold as they were back then when they were just a child. Tears filled their eyes and in that moment, they were the terrified young dragon that they were all those years ago.“Please don’t make me do it again!” Thistle pleaded as they were practically dragged along the obsidian floor. “Please mama, please!”Just as their attempts at resistance had been before, it was futile. There was no escaping the ritual. They fell limp in her grasp, sluggishly treading behind her as she brought them to the sacred room. It was a dull place that reeked of mildew and death.In the sacred room, dozens of Temple Keepers sat surrounding a sigil; an Ekanoxian symbol of sacrifice, the drawing of three narrow, black, pillars. Candles lined each corner of the triangular sigil, in the middle a circle written in undecipherable runic letters were etched into the floor. Thistle began to cry silently at the familiar sound of the Keepers song. Their voices were so soft and quiet, had they been here to aid the Thunder Dragon, they would have been soothing voices.From behind the organized group of Keepers they heard the clatter of chains. An impure one, as their mother had called them. Thistle themself never knew why the cult claimed these Akurians to be impure, though they had been told time and time again that it was the Thunder Dragon that would make them pure in death. There was no escaping now, there had never been an escape. Not until their mother was dead– or until they woke up.The sound of chains became louder as the pure one was presented in the middle of the circle, dragged into the sigil by two keepers. The chained one was a young boy, far too tattered to fight back. He was no older than Thistle was, at least back when this had happened. They recognized the young boy; Solanine. A child with barely a quarter of dragon’s blood in him. That was what had made them impure to the cult and that was why it was Thistle’s job to kill the child.“No, no...” Thistle retorted, stepping back.The Keepers all turned to look at them, staring through faceless cloth that covered their faces. They hid their face in their hands as they moved away. It was the first time that they were able to turn and run away from the memory, out into the hallway and down long corridors endorned with hand-carved statues of various Ekanoxian icons. Thistle ran towards the first door they saw, hoping it was an exit out of this nightmare. The door they ran towards was tall and dark, bearing no carvings or apparent texture. From beneath and in between the cracks on the door was a vibrant red.Thistle looked frantically behind themself to find that their mother was trailing behind them. Her steps were becoming faster and faster until she was practically sprinting towards Thistle. This was new. This was not a memory.In a fit of paranoia, Thistle pounded their fists on the door, trying to get it to budge. She was getting closer and closer, they could smell the rot and hear the sound of her ragged breath. Their claws raked the stone of the doors until suddenly they felt weightless. The two doors had turned open and Thistle fell forward. They collided with the ground and behind them they heard the two stone doors slam closed.The smell of decay did not fade.
CHAPTER 3: god's flesh
With a pained whine, Thistle sat up. They felt something wet on their cheek and hands. They blinked and as their eyes focused, they found that they were surrounded by red. The red was not light, rather, it was something far more grotesque. It was blood. Thistle’s eyes widened and they panicked, trying to wipe the blood off of their hands and from their face, only causing it to smear all across their face. Thistle stopped, a sob escaping their lips.Wherever they were now, this was not the temple. This was some place else. The ground was soft and damp, even a little warm. It was made entirely of flesh. Despite that it seemed to take the form of an empty outdoor complex, the pillars that held the hallway up and the vast land ahead was made up of dark red meat. The sky was pitch black even though it seemed like it was casting a shadowy light upon the organic landscape.Thistle sniffled, wiping away their tears with bloody hands. There was no choice but to go forward now, as long as they got away from their mother. With one reluctant gaze back towards the door, they clenched their jaw and turned to the flesh-land. Thistle stepped forward, cringing at how the ground felt beneath their feet. It reminded them of the Dead Zone beyond the Blood Wall, only this land was not nearly as decayed and barren as the rest of the organic landscape. This land was still alive .The land was breathing. They had seen visions of this breathing land before. It inhaled and exhaled, breathing its rotten air into the atmosphere. There was a low hum that encompassed the landscape, like a slow, very slow , heartbeat. They no longer felt like they were dreaming. This place was very real. Thistle felt as if they were breathing with the land, they could feel and hear every breath it took, every breath it slowly let out.It’s heartbeat was not all that Thistle heard, either.There was that voice again, mostly inaudible but recognizable as the sound of what could have been human. “ Hello ?” Thistle called out to it. They were met with the sound of the landscape’s beating heart.No response.Thistle's cyan eyes scanned the terrain. Surrounding the dragon was an organic structure, made up of geometric muscle and ligaments. Thistle imagined because of its biological nature, its pillars must have had a skeleton of some kind. This crimson dream-place was an organism. This realm lived just as the flesh of the outer Earth did in the Dead Zone. This was where the Elder God— the Ekanox— dwelled.For what felt like hours, Thistle found themself wandering these organic corridors that seemed to span for miles and miles. Time was irrelevant in a place like this, yet it still felt as if they had been here for ages. Thistle could feel themself becoming choked up, not with fear, but an urgency to leave. Wherever they were now, they were lost. They knew it would be a long time until they returned home. The door Thistle that had entered through had since disappeared, supposedly miles away at this point.There was nothing here.From the looks of it, not even the Ekanox. The Ekanox had been gone for quite some time. Thistle knew that it dwelled here, but it chose not to speak to them.Thistle couldn’t believe that they almost hoped they would see the massive, pearl-white creature somewhere in the distance. All they saw was black when they looked through what could have been an entrance to the meat-temple.Thistle wandered. The only thing that met the dragon were miles of empty halls constructed by flesh. There was the occasional sound of wind, like the land itself was taking slow breaths and exhaling somewhere that was far from Thistle. Thistle felt tears well up in their eyes again.Was this ever going to end?Was this part of the ritual?Then, as if something had read their very thoughts, they heard an all too familiar voice.“I was waiting for you.” the Ekanox spoke. Its voice, however, was not unique. The Elder God spoke in Thistle’s own voice, a mangled version of it at least. The Ekanox had never developed a voice of its own despite its time on Earth. Once, Thistle had been disturbed that the God had taken their voice, now, it only bothered them.“Why didn’t you answer me?” Thistle asked the Ekanox, their cyan eyes gazing up at a pitch black sky, then wandering downward. Finally, in the distance, Thistle saw the massive, pale figure of the Ekanox. In the shady darkness, its pink-white form was obstructed greatly. Despite how far it seemingly was, it spoke as if it was right next to Thistle.“I don’t know how,” the pearlescent flesh-god whispered plainly.“What do you mean you don’t know how?” Thistle retorted, their ears pinning back and their tone lowering. “ You did this.”No response. Once more, the ancient one was silent. Thistle frowned, tears filling their eyes. They had spoken to the Ekanox many times before. They knew the Ekanox well, and it knew them. Unfortunately for the god, Thistle was the only person and thing it had known for over six millenia. Thistle found it strange that no dragon before them had harbored a connection to this deity as they did, though not even the Ekanox could answer that. The dragons, unlike everything else, were not of the Ekanox’s making. For a reason Thistle and the God had yet to understand, that must have been why Thistle was here and the Eknox knew no dragon before them.“It’s been moons since you last spoke to me,” Thistle murmured. “Even when I was here the night before and the night before that, and that you—” Thistle’s words fell short and they looked to the ground. Even when there were no memories, they always ended up in this place one way or another. “You didn’t have to take me back there.”“Back where?” the Ekanox murmured.“Back there! To the Temple!” Thistle shouted, an arm raising. A chittering growl escaped the dragon, they stepped back until their back was to the wall, and they slid to sit on the warm, red ground beneath them. The warmth of the realm’s flesh, however, was not soothing.“I wanted to see it,” the Ekanox than said, it spoke as it felt nothing at all. “It’s a strange place. You keep it buried. I noticed that while I was away. There is much that you keep buried, Thistle.”Thistle’s ear twitched, their claws picked at the surface beneath. “So was that why you were gone for so long? You were in my head picking away at my memories, is that it?”“Not so, Thunder Dragon. I was curious.” the Ekanox responded, monotone and relentless.Thistle scoffed at this. Since they were a child they had spoken to the Ekanox, though one thing would always remain between them: Thistle and the Ekanox would never truly understand one another. It often spoke in riddles and cryptic tellings, never any answers or explanations of what was done and why. “That all you got then? You were curious ?”Silence from the Ekanox, then a simple, still monotone, “Yes.”“You shouldn’t be going through my memories, you know.” Thistle grumbled, almost defeated.“Why not? They’re right there. I can see them all. Why not relive them?” the deity inquired, though its lack of tone made it difficult for Thistle to tell if it was being genuine or not.Thistle could feel themself choke up. Did it truly not understand the weight of those memories? Their claws raised from the fleshy ground below, tearing up small chunks of red as they raised. Thistle looked at their hands, trying to ignore the faint red that clung to the ends of them and the pinkish hue on their palms. “I can’t relive something like that.”“It shaped you. It is everything you ever were and will be.” The Ekanox stated. Thistle wasn’t entirely sure of what to make of that.“ That doesn’t mean I want to go back !” the dragon yelled. Thistle’s hands once more set to the ground, more aggressively this time.“But it didn’t shape me. It could. I want to see it– again.” The flesh-god seemed to be bartering. It was otherwise careless towards the distress it was bringing Thistle. Thistle couldn’t claim if the Ekanox was self absorbed or anything like that.“That’s selfish.” Thistle snarled.“Selfish?”“You think if you relive my memories that makes it yours. You will never know something like that,” the Thunder Dragon explained, their voice hoarse from yelling so loudly just a few moments ago. “It’s selfish that you’re usin’ me to do that. You don’t even care what happens to me.”“There’s much to see here. Much I have yet to experience.” the Ekanox murmured.“Whaetever . Just get out of my head. I don’t wanna talk to you right now,” Thistle began to tuck their knees up to their chest. “ Go away.”The Ekanox was silent once more. Thistle felt a little more alone now. They weren't sure if they should feel grateful that it left them alone like they asked it to. A part of them still wanted to talk, to tell the Ekanox how wrong it was for everything it was doing and had done. Yet no matter how many times they tried, it was like they were walking in circles. The Ekanox either refused to understand or didn’t understand at all.Thistle’s mother was wrong to have ever looked up to a deity so shameful. The Ekanox was a pathetic excuse for a world-destroying god. Thistle was just angry now.Thistle came to a halt with a full body shudder. They wrapped their arms around themself, looking down either way of the muscle-covered hall. Thistle cried. They cried until they felt their head ache, until they had no more tears left to cry. It didn’t matter if they cried anyway, the Ekanox didn’t seem to care. Either that, or it didn’t understand why they cried. Maybe it never felt sadness.Thistle rested their chin atop their crossed arms. Now they sat in silence, staring at the empty halls, wondering when this would end.The Elder God was ever silent.But then, came a new voice, a familiar one.Thistle?They stared.Thistle?Their eyes squinted slightly. The dragon shut their eyes.Thistle!Cyan eyes shot open. That was a voice... they knew that voice.Thistle, wake up!They blinked and when their eyes opened once more, they were engulfed in a familiar smell of home. They were in their bed, where it was warm and comfortable. Thistle felt Pani’s hand on their shoulder. Thistle's gaze softened as they stared up at her. “Y-yeah?” the dragon murmured out.“Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep again,” Pani whispered as she laid back down.They smiled, the kind of smile they faked when they were afraid. “I’m fine,” they said. “Just had… a weird dream.” Thistle closed their eyes again, indicating that they didn’t want to talk about it. They never would. Nobody would know what he saw that night.Pani’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t a good enough answer for her. She reached to take their hands, unfolding them so that she could lace her fingers with Thistle’s. She understood their torment, even if she would never know what they truly saw in their dreams, she knew it was very real. Pani lifted a finger, upturning the dragon’s palm. Gently, her index finger traced every divot and crease in their palm. Thistle’s head slanted. They leaned closer so that they could press their forehead to hers, an affectionate gesture Thistle gave to her and all their loved ones. “We’re safe now.”Pani gave a hopeful smile. “We’re safe.”Thistle’s smile was finally genuine. Fatigued but real. All that Thistle cared about now was the moment. Their anger still lingered in the back of their mind. Those memories would go back to being locked far from the moment. Thistle was where they truly belonged now. Tomorrow they would see their friends as well, they would hunt, enjoy the day, then come night, they would meet the Ekanox once more.Maybe next time Thistle met the flesh-god, it would choose a kinder memory to recall.
CHAPTER 4: conversation (end)
Year 8916, January 7th. Four days since the Ekanox made contact with the Thunder Dragon.As every encounter had been, Thistle’s conversation with the Ekanox was a thing of the past. The memories had faded once more— for now. Though they pondered the flesh-god during their time in the Dead Zone, a day had passed since the nightmare. Thistle had enjoyed the hunt with their friends, it was a grand time as always, and rejuvenating after such an anguished recalling.To Thistle’s delight, their hunt had been successful. Not only had they culled a sizable herd of beasts, but they had salvaged hearty riches of bone, flesh, and teeth. All kinds of parts that would be of great use within the Blood Wall Society. Thistle was still surprised that Pani had agreed to go at all. Usually she preferred to hunt alone, but she was never one to go against her word. Every now and again Thistle felt the temptation to ask her to join their hunting division, but that would mean abandoning her life as an artist, so the question remained unspoken.In light of the hunters’ success, this had brought them to the Iron Market not long after. They kept what was left for themselves and traded off the rest. Thistle traded a leather satchel of beast teeth for a strange book. This book had caught Thistle’s eye for one reason: the three rectangular symbols brandished into its cover. Those were the symbols of the Pillars, the Ekanox’s first form. These symbols had only ever been used by the Revisioners.That early evening, Thistle was sitting at the very peak of the Blood Wall, perched comfortably in a makeshift seat on the ledge of the wall. They idly flipped through the journal before sighing out, looking to the vast landscape ahead. Nearby Sthastraon was flying freely in the air. He’d come whenever Thistle called for him.“What’s wrong?" A deep yet soft, feminine voice spoke. The Blood Wall. Little did the people of Akuria know; she too had a voice. To them, her voice was no more than a deep rumble, something unknowable and song-like. Thistle, however, understood these songs. Through thundering octaves they heard every word clearly.Thistle picked at the spine of the journal. “I keep trying to forget it, but it keeps coming back to me.””The nightmare you told me about?” the Blood Wall asked gently.”Yeah,” Thistle huffed. “I keep thinking about the Ekanox said— well, what it didn’t say.””Have patience, Thistle. ””It’s hard when it’s nothing but stubborn. It always talks to me like I’m dumb!” Thistle growled under their breath as they flipped through pages, not bothering to read the writing; they were mostly just feeling the jagged texture of the pages. “Doesn’t care how badly it hurts me, it just wants to be in my head so it can… I don’t know.””You’ve explained enough, Thistle. I can feel your distress. Let us talk about something else, ” the Blood wall chimed. “Tell me, why has this journal piqued your interest?””This old thing?” Thistle seemed to perk up at the mention of the book. They shrugged. “Got it at the market, it belonged to a Revisioner.””I see. I can’t judge you for being curious about it. Be cautious. The Revisioners are dangerous.” the Blood Wall insisted. “Have you told Pani about it yet?””Oh yeah. Course’ I did! She knows,” Thistle nodded. They told Pani everything . She was always the first to know whenever it came to just about anything. “It’s just… been so long since I seen or heard anything from them,” the Thunder Dragon said. They flipped the journal over and looked down at the rectangles on its cover. “This thing looks ancient anyway. Fella from the Meat District–uh, Clovus– he was sellin’ it said it was passed down to him from his grandparents, but he didn’t care much for it. I just want to understand what’s in it. Doesn’t seem like any cult stuff.”“Oh? Clovus is a butcher, is he not?””Yuh-huh. He and I are buddies. We do a a bit of trading on the side here and there.” Thistle smiled. “Anywho… I can’t make much sense of it now, it seems this book here was more like a diary. Belonged to an old hunter from the early days. Most of what’s in here is just nonsense, though. Haven’t gotten too far yet.”The Blood Wall rumbled, Thistle could feel her shift slightly. “Most intriguing! Old World relics are hard to come by. If you are to find anything distressing though, please do yourself some good and put it away.”“Eeh..” Thistle shrugged, flipping the pages of the old diary.The Blood Wall rumbled, tectonic plates of flesh shifting against one another for miles and miles. “I’m serious, Thistle. Know your limits. I understand your curiosity, but I worry as well. Something tied to the Revisioners could be bad news. I only want you to be cautious in your… investigation.”Thistle didn’t respond at first, uncertain of how to feel about her concern. The Blood Wall’s concern was anything but spontaneous, though. She had always been like this. Had she a heart, he imagined it would be so large it could take up all of Akuria itself. The Blood Wall was kind in a way that almost frustrated him at times. Thistle internally scolded himself; they should be grateful she was looking out for them.The dragon’s ear flicked once against foggy air. “You’re right,” they closed the journal. “I’ll look at it later.” They didn’t want to look at it anymore, at least not right now. Thistle’s mind had already shut off after she had mentioned the plausible distress the book could cause, at that moment it stunted his curiosity. That fading intrigue left room for a new thought.”Oh no!” Thistle suddenly exclaimed, their tail raised then fell.”Is everything okay?” the Blood Wall hastily asked, panic in her voice.”I just remembered I was gonna meet Knox and the others at the tavern,” Thistle pouted. “I completely forgot.”A sigh from the Blood Wall. It sounded more like a low, droning bellow than a sigh, but Thistle could tell from her tone that it was a breath of relief. She hummed, “Then perhaps you should join them. Tell them what you have told me, dear.””Ooh, yeah— Arden’ll get a kick out of it! She loves relics like these,” Thistle smiled at the thought of his sister. “I’ll let you know what happens.””Lovely! And bring me some mead while you’re at it.” the Blood Wall chimed.”Mead? Since when did you drink?” Thistle asked curiously with a hint of playfulness in their voice.“Since I learned I could— I’ll explain another time.” the Blood Wall couldn’t help but chuckle. She wasn’t one for being cryptic, though now was not the time to explain a happening she had yet to understand herself. All she knew is that now she could get a taste of mead.Thistle pursed their bearded lips and decided not to question the Wall. Sometimes Thistle forgot that she was a massive organism made from thousands of years worth of decay, shaped and changed by the land around her. One could argue she was far more eldritch in nature than the Ekanox itself. They nodded. “You’d better tell me, cause’ I won’t stop bugging you until you do!””I know you will, Thistle.” the Blood Wall laughed. Her laughter sounded like a deep chitter, like thunder crashing in the distance. “ Now go. Your friends are waiting for you.”Thistle looked over their shoulder one last time at the red landscape ahead. It looked more scarlet than ever, embalmed by an array of orange and yellow from the setting sun. Despite everything going on in their head, they could set that aside for now. There was always one thing in this barren world that would bring them hope; his friends. They were all they needed in the end, all that they ever would need. Thistle then placed a hand on the Blood Wall. She said nothing more.Thistle then stood, using their long tail for balance. They stuffed the diary in an auburn-leather satchel cast over their chest. Then, they let out a series of chittering whistles. Not long after a roar pierced the orange air, Sthastraon turned on the wind, beating his wings as he flew towards the wall.The massive exannor landed atop the Blood Wall beside Thistle, dipping his massive form downward to welcome the dragon onto his saddled back. Thistle didn’t immediately climb on. They looked to the Blood Wall one last time.“I’ll see you soon, old friend.” Thistle murmured with a gentle grin. The Wall hummed softly in response, beckoning him off.Thistle climbed atop their exannor, and once they were set in the saddle, Sthastraon took off into the sky, soaring back into the last haven of humanity.
© ALL Characters are protected under copyright and are original characters created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
the ekanox
WHAT IS THE EKANOX?
The Ekanox is a horror world building and narrative anthology project that takes place over six thousand years in the future after a world changing apocalypse has destroyed the Earth, turning it into a desolate wasteland.Over a millenia after the Ekanox made contact with Earth and released its pestilence upon the planet, Earth has succumbed to a calamity. The infected, known as beasts, roam the surface in a northern land now known as Akuria. What has come of the rest of the world remains a mystery... as far as the Akurians know, they're the last of humanity. The Akurians live hidden away behind a massive wall known as the "Blood Wall", their only protection against the apocalyptic wasteland. Humans known as "hunters" are responsible for hunting and harvesting the beasts for parts and protecting the Blood Wall Society.With limited technological advances, Akuria's population has been forced to adapt to a terraformed world of flesh and decay. Now ruled by Beasts, Earth is merely a husk of what it once was. The last of humanity finds itself safely hidden away behind a massive wall known as the "Blood Wall", their only protection against the apocalyptic wasteland.The Ekanox is an entirely personal worldbuilding project created from pure passion for creating a world and crafting a compelling narrative within it. Currently, it is my goal to publish an anthology book consisting of tales within this world and from there, maybe expand the horizons of The Ekanox into the realm of game and film.
"MAIN" narrative
(NOTE: This is a working synopsis. Subject to change.)The Prophecy of Hinaarah, a prophecy written by revered knowledge keepers, predicts the hibernation cycles of the Ekanox, keeping the Akurians in anticipation of its next awakening. The Prophecy states that on the Ekanox’s thirty first awakening, the Earth would “splinter” and decay, bringing forth the end of all life.Hunter Thistle Khousuuh was born and raised in this dying world. After escaping his previous life beneath the eye of his family's cult, he pursued a life as a beast hunter and strives to understand the new, reborn earn. Thistle is a confident and upbeat soul, determined to protect remnants of humanity and make a life in Akuria.
When the Ekanox awakens after its hibernation according to the Prophecy’s tellings, Thistle sets out with his group to find and destroy the deity once and for all before it makes landfall in Akuria. Thistle is determined to succeed where his father failed and change the fate of the world.Alongside his allies, Thistle will uncover the truth of the prophecy and its origins while they journey through a vast eldritch wasteland. But not all people are allies. Enemies will be made, secrets will be uncovered and bonds will be broken, pushing Thistle to doubt if he has what it takes to save humanity... and himself.
ENTER THE WORLD
OF THE EKANOX
YEAR 8923: THE BLOOD WALL SOCIETY
" Akurian people dressed in armor made from bones, metal scraps, gather around a bonfire.. Dancing with a burning beast corpse in the middle, gathered beneath a massive overgrown war robot that's been sat dormant for thousands of years. They celebrate the death of technology and the rise of a new world... "Society has been rebuilt in a dystopian, primitive image. Currently, there is a population of about 276 million within the East coast of Akuria. People of the Blood Wall Society are also known as the Akurians. Whilst the continent’s name, it has been generally associated with the Blood Wall Society specifically.What remains in 8923 of Earth’s human population lives behind the great Blood Wall, now relying on steam and solar power to maintain this apocalyptic civilization. The use of paper money has now been completely abandoned, leaving digital currency as the only viable source of income for individuals. Some markets still accept self-made coins, though the only physical currency accepted is trade. Black markets thrived off of creating weapons and other resources from the armor, skin, and hide of the infected.The society of 8923 lacks many social structures and political systems that had formerly been valued and utilized in the Old World. Over hundreds of years of adaptation and a lack of historical and political preservation, the government has collapsed and been lost to time.Most notably, there is a lack of concentration of monetary wealth. This means that there is an absence of economic class divisions (lower to upper, etc.). While there are people who may maintain more resources than others, their wealth is based on the size of their group and access to available resources. Citizens with higher circulation of wealth from trade consist of farmers/gardeners, hunters, blacksmiths, cybernetic enhancers,, and anything else that falls under these categories.It should be noted that even with the lack of government system, law, and policing, a general moral code exists amongst the Akurians. Law may be absent, but maintaining a sense of community, acceptance, and connection.Despite the futuristic aesthetic of the Blood Wall Society in 8923 and the use of hologram technology, cybernetic enhancements, and uses of solar/steam power, overall, technology is as primitive as it was in the early 1800s. Tech that is seen ans used is that from a long lost time when technology had rapidly advanced (now all thats left are hundreds of years worth of scraps that people have attempted to make the most of, in short) before ultimately becoming a huge downfall on humanity as resources were overused, run dry, and adaptation for more "primitive" ways of life akin to that of medieval humans, was what meant success in a decaying civilization.
In addition, currency is no longer used or considered. Rather, trade for resources is what economically supports the people of the Akurian society.
AKURIAN HUMANS OF THE BLOOD WALL SOCIETY
Humans in 8923 are noticeably different from that of humans in the 21st century. Due to shifting climates, changing terrain, and adaptation to a more harsh and active lifestyle, Akurian humans appear far more primitive and ape-like in comparison to that of Old World humans. Though, it should be noted that Akurian humans are not a separate species despite being in the early stages of developing as one.Akurians are specialized for running, climbing, and traveling long distances. They possess highly advanced respiratory systems that allow for a higher oxygen intake and specialized lungs that almost “filter” the smog of the air when climbing to great heights. Akurian humans also have more body hair, but it isn’t uncommon for people to shave as well. Thicker body hair allows Akurians to withstand colder and harsher climates when climbing atop skyscrapers or flying on exannors.Akurians stand at heights from 5’9-6’5, which is the average height for an Akurian. They have a longer, stockier build with larger muscle mass allowing for a more active lifestyle. They also tend to be more top heavy with strong pectorals and arms that allow them to haul themselves seamlessly when climbing. In addition, Akurians have also developed a “thumb” on their foot comparable to that of Old World great apes, and because of this they tend to have specialized shoes for climbing.All in all Akurians are masters of survival both in terms of adaptation and primitive technology.
THE DEAD ZONE: BEYOND THE BLOOD WALL
THE BLOOD WALLCreated thousands of years ago, the Blood Wall exists in order to divide the Dead Zone from the last wide-remaining human civilization on Earth. Blood Walls were constructed around the world, the only Blood Wall currently standing remains in Akuria. It has naturally grown up to over three thousand feet tall in select areas, including mountain ranges which further elevates it’s height.The Blood Wall carries a pseudoconsciousness of it’s own after absorbing hundreds of years worth of organic material. The wall is over three thousand feet high, stretching across Akuria, made up of a flesh substance known as “ekaris”. This is where the name “Blood Wall'' originates. While it is not entirely sapient due to it’s consciousness stemming from primarily nonhuman origin, it is a stationary object that maintains the energy of the organic material it has absorbed from both human and infected. Inherently, all of this material is from infected origins which further links the Blood Wall to the Ekanox.While it cannot be controlled or utilized in any manner of ways as the Ekanox manifests in the form of the infected, its presence is undoubtedly real yet vacant. First, the organic material such as flesh and skin had only collided with the outside of the wall. As the years went by, ekaris flooded over the wall but was not considered harmful to the human population since the infection can only be transmitted directly through saliva and blood. Still, why the ekaris does not expand past the confines of the Blood Wall itself remains a mystery. All that humanity knows: the Blood Wall allows them to thrive.When one moves closer to the Blood Wall and farther away from the apocalyptic, pseudo-urban society, bone-like crackles can be heard from the Wall itself. Low rumbles, akin to a bellowing heartbeat accompany this organic sound. This is believed to be the ever moving flesh of the Wall, shifting and changing as it absorbs and reconstructs matter onto itself. In a sense, the Blood Wall itself is alive. Whilst not a conscious entity, or at least not at this point, it seems to function as if it is alive. Some have even claimed to have heard voices coming from the wall, not of human origin but of this massive wall itself; a song of some kind, in tune to its beating heart.An inner wall known as “The Mountain '' was constructed and is not nearly as tall as the Blood Wall, only standing at four hundred feet tall. In the case that the Blood Wall ever failed as its predecessors did, the Mountain would provide temporary security for the last real civilization on Earth.(1) Graveyards were made illegal in 2110 when fertile land became more and more scarce. Graveyards often proved to be a viable land for farming due to the abundance of compost and fertile soil. Graves were dug up and replaced by farms. This caused a country wide outrage over the years but it was ultimately decided that the survival of humanity was more precious than the preservation of the dead. Regardless, the illegality of graveyards remained and still remains a controversial topic.
ROT TISSUE / "EKARIS"Rot tissue, better known by Akurians as "Ekaris" or "Ekarian Tissue", is a nonsentient substance made up of human DNA and other organic material. Despite sharing DNA with that of humans, it is not of human origin nor relation. Rather, this fleshy, meaty substance is the direct result of excremants from beasts and other deceased organic material. It is also the product of years of biological waste during the early days of the Age of Iron. Ekaris should not be mistaken as simply a kind of a "flesh", this is a completely new form of cosmic-organic material that defies all previous laws of biology and physics.Ekaris is essentially "living" meat. It is what primarily makes up a vast majority of the dead zone and it's structures. The Blood Wall, however, is an outleir as it is made of an unidentified, keratinous-like covering that gives it a strange, bone-like appearance. Other geological structures and terrain in the Dead Zone are almost entirely made of ekaris and beast remains. Ekaris has a putrid rotting scent and is almost always seen writhing and moving in some way, ekaris is never entirely still. A grotesque texture, it is wet with blood and mucus but otherwise soft to the touch, much like living muscle tendons and parts.Ekaris is rich in minderals and nutrients, so, it may be consumed but is not reccommended (at least not in it's raw form) as it carries a plethora of bacteria harmful to the human body. The existence of ekaris allows beasts and other Dead Zone fauna to thrive in these barren, fleshy lands.There have even been accounts of ekarian structures "moving" and "growing" on their own, such as the strange phenomenon of the Labyrinth of Empirius. Though ekaris is not alive nor does it maintain sentience, it behaves much like a fungus in the way that it expands in vastness across the Dead Zone.When ekaris is "decayed", it solidifies and becomes calcium-keratin and eventually withers into dust, supplying nutrients to surrounding fauna and other ekaris.
FLESH SKYSCRAPERS / MARROWSFlesh skyscrapers, better known as "marrows", are massive structures of organic material resembling man-made structures such as skyscrapers, buildings, and even old world vehicles. Marrows can be grown either over existing structures, or spontaneously grow as the fleshy landscape continues to expand. Marrows have a hard structure with a mostly soft outer layer, resembling human skin and muscle. These fleshy skyscrapers will collect residual parts which will then merge with the rest of the structure, making for the illusion of a city or town made from flesh. Marrows are usually completely solid, however, some may be hollow and will even possess levels, stairs, and windows as a normal building would. Marrows range from heights of twenty to two hundred feet in size, and taller. There is no definitive height when applied to marrows. Like average flesh, these marrows may decay if no new matter is collected or growing across them.In a smaller, basal version of marrows are thin, fungus-like structures known as "pikes". Pikes are often the early stages of marrow growth, however, pikes will not always grow into vast structures. Many will remain small in size, ranging from heights of ten to forty feet at the most. If there is no residiual organic matter to latch onto the pikes, then they will remain as they are until they begin to decay. If there is matter present, then they harness potential to begin growing into a marrow.Both pikes and marrows are the result of excreted decay and matter from the infected and the Blood Wall itself. This means the flesh making up these structures possess strands of the Pestilence, making them capable of homogenizing with the dead. On some marrows, usually near the base, clumps of homogenized beasts can be seen growing within the structures.OBELISKSObelisks are a unique form of marrow. Obelisks stand at least one hundred feet in height and unlike skyscrapers, they will not grow or shrink in size, rather maintaining one constant size. Some obelisks have been observed to grow to heights of five hundred feet. Obelisks may span from a hundred to thousands of feet in height and tend to be slimmer in diameter. They may bear strange spikes and spines, creating the illusion of intricate patterns and designs along them. Though, the only naturally ocurring patterns across them are small runes that bear nonsensical meaning. Initially, it was believed that these runes etched into dark keratin-like flesh was the Ekanox's attempted mimicry of written human language. These runes were later "translated" and developed into what is now currently known as the Ekanoxian language.The Ekanox itself is known to have left obelisks in it's wake, insisting that the first obelisk population are the ancestors of all living obelisks. There is no known reason as to why the Ekanox leaves these obelisks in it's wake, however, it has been observed that these obelisks tend to be found within a triangular pattern despite being thousands to millions of miles away from one another. The Revisioners have dubbed this as the Ekanox's "migration path". There is no known records or observations of it, but it is believed that the Ekanox may use these obelisks as self-made landmarks to return to upon awakening from each hibernation.OBELISK SHAPE VARIANTSDespite that all obelisks are identical in biological nature and functionality, no obelisks are completely identical. However, obelisks do tend to take two primary “forms”. That being the geometric and irregular forms.➢ Geometric - These obelisk forms usually take the form of three dimensional shapes such as boxes, cylinders, pyramids, and even spheres. These shapes are more easily recognizable as native Earth shapes in the third dimension.
➢ Irregular - Irregular obelisks do not maintain a particular form, rather, these obelisks are mangled and incomprehensible, taking the form of shapes that do not exist on Earth. Some believe that these obelisks represent shapes existing in a dimension from a higher plane of existence.BRELLI THE ASCENDEDBrelli the Ascended is a name given to one of the oldest obelisks in the Great Desert. A landmark to hunters and travelers alike, it is believed by many that Brelli was the first obelisk “born” in the new world of Akuria. Despite that there is no record of it, ohers believe that Brelli was once an Akurian scholar that dedicated her life to studying the Ekanox, only to be doomed to a fate of becoming one with the entity. What sets Brelli apart from other obelisks is the vocal “hum” that emits from it, much like that of the Blood Wall. This voice is what has led some to believe that perhaps, much like the Blood Wall, Brelli’s consciousness stems from an accumulation of human interaction, or, was once a human itself.
CREATURES OF THE EKANOX
THE INFECTED: "THE BEASTS OF THE PESTILENCE"Scientific Vocabulary:
➢ Aspiriumation (as-pir-um-ation): the overall process of the Pestilence's zombification.
➢ Consicioism (con-shee-oh-is-um) : the reconstruction and materialization of the human brain.
➢ Perovism (per-row-vis-um) : the end of the zombification process and beginning of homegenization.The Pestilence is a transmissible virus originating from the Ekanox and carried by the Ekanox. Infected individuals are known as “beasts''. Depending on the stage, some beasts will be found in large groups or as individuals. Groups of beasts are called “swarms”. Nests are known as “hives”. This virus completely rewrites human biology, transforming humans into primal, undead, entities. There are a total of five stages that infected hosts will undergo until the Pestilence has completely transformed it’s host. The virus can only be transmitted through saliva or bodily excrement. Though, the most groted aspect of the beasts is their ability to reproduce. Most of the beast population are derived from previously infected hosts. Humanity was merely a means of jumpstarting the formation of this new and grotesque species.Due to having a flexible biology that is in a sustained inflammatory response, beasts are able to homogenize. This means that the bodies of beasts are constantly producing new tissue, cells, and bones. Beasts have a high parathyroid production rate as well, resulting in antler-like formations on their body. Beasts are animalistic in their posture and anatomy, however, due to being human before infection, they do maintain some human-like qualities before their physique becomes mutilated.Because of their modified anatomy and misplaced organs, they are able to make a range of sounds, or no sound at all. Some beasts may possess the ability to scream or roar, some lack vocal chords entirely and are not able to vocalize. The most common sound is the “chitter”, the sound of rattling keratin above layers of flesh. This chitter is not a vocal noise, rather, it is an idle sound that naturally occurs when the beast walks or breathes. The chitter is often used to identify the presence of an infected.Beasts are constantly bleeding due to tender flesh over the body, and the virus can also be transmitted through blood via open wounds. This acts as an "adhesive" that quickens the homogenization process. The beasts will continue to homogenize until they become nothing more than a pile of rotting and simultaneously liviny flesh.
THE EXANNORSExannors are man-made saurischian theropods created through artificial genetic splicing using the DNA of a genetically modified species of avian known as "exarons".Like much of the apocalypse, the direct origin of the exannors has become convoluted over hundreds of years, many believe that they were one of the various organisms that developed from prior life on earth after the Ekanox made contact and that the Ekanox shaped them to be the forms they are now. However, their true origin lies within early domesticity of Ekanoxian species (lab created animals known as "exarons") homogenizing with beasts. Humanity managed to domesticate certain strains of homogenized Ekanoxian species which eventually lead to the development of domesticated beasts known as exannors. Exannors are not affected by the Ekanox’s influence. It is not entirely known why despite that they carry the Pestilence; one could assume that because they are non-human, they lack Mirror Worlds, meaning that the Ekanox cannot control or influence them.In the Blood Wall Society, exannors are considered a method of transport and offer animal companionship. With the absence of vehicles such as cars and planes, exannors have become a popular commodity. The average Akurian tends to have an exannor one way or another, exannors are abundant in their population and most people either raise an exannor from a previous clutch of eggs or inheret a previous relative's exannor. In either case, an owner must form a lifelong bond with the creature. Exannors will often only accept one rider/owner throughout their entire lifetime, so when a person takes in an exannor, that exannor is with them until death. It is almost impossible to break the bond between an exannor and it’s rider, though some will unfortunately abuse this special bond between man and beast. Many do not, however, as it is taboo to mistreat an exannor and view them as lesser. Exannors are considered a staple of Akurian society.Exannors dominante the Society as the primary predatory and common wildlife. Despite their close ties and origins with humanity, not all Exannors are domesticated and tamed. Outside of the Blood Wall, variants of "wild exannors" can be found.
© ALL Characters, concepts, art, and writing are protected under copyright and are original characters created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
the ekanox
THE ART OF THE EKANOX
Some but certainly not all of the art I have created for the Ekanox! I'll add more here over time.
© ALL Characters & Art are protected under copyright and are original characters created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
BLADE IN THE CITY
Stories from the world of BITC.
This page will be updated accordingly as I write more!
Have any comments about my art and/or writing? Submit them HERE! :3
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
BLADE IN THE CITY
SHORT SCENES
Basically just a collection of one-shots I've written for this world.
Some more canon than others, but notes are provided with each story if need be to clarify.
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
short scene: keep your eyes on me
SYNOPSISObasi and Noctis share a brief but intimate moment. Obasi is in her feelings, for lack of better words... A short, and fun scene I wrote for practice!
Obasi hated clubs. Hate was a strong word she often withheld the urge to use, she knew the connotation of hatred implied more than most thought, but when it came to the rambunctious setting of night clubs, she couldn’t think of a better world. It was why she always opted for renting a private room if she did want to deal with the overwhelming scents, sights, and sounds that came with clubbing. This was a club she had come to often, a rather popular club-slash-cyber-bar that a Phantom ally owned.Cyber bars would always perplex Obasi; she could never quite understand the notion of eternities linking and simulating shared emotions for a thrill. Obasi wasn’t cyberized, nor did she hold any interest in doing so, but she couldn’t deny that she had grown fond of how cyberization looked on certain individuals… such as the animan sitting next to her.She did well not to stare at Noctis, despite that her arm was draped along the back of the ovular, maroon seat. Still, she couldn’t quite keep her eyes away, especially when Noctis’s silver fur shone like diamonds against neon lights. Noctis always sported an unkept beard and scraggly fur, usually it would bother her, though Noctis was the only animan she knew of that could make such a messy demeanor look handsome.Not far from them was the circular table that was the resting place of Obasi’s trench coat and some emptied glasses of wine. Since they had arrived at the club, Obasi had hardly said a word. She was focused on the taste of mocha-leather on her tongue, smoke billowing from her heart-shaped nose, but even then she couldn’t quite shake her current train of thought. She and Noctis hadn’t come here for any reason in particular, neither of them were interested in typical club activities anyway. It was pleasant to enjoy their company together with no real goal, no social pressures or expectations. Obasi grumbled under her breath and raised a hand to scratch an itch on her silver beard.Her attention lingered to the side. Noctis was on her phone, Obasi didn’t care for what she was looking at despite that the screen was perfectly within eyeshot. Noctis was texting someone, Obasi still didn’t care. She grunted and looked away. She tried to convince herself that the phone was the reason why, to make some fabricated belief that she was looking away from Noctis because she was upset that she was texting someone. Obasi wasn’t that kind of animan, though. Much to her dismay, it would have been much easier to blame this feeling on Noctis’s phone and whomever was texting her, but it wasn’t.In her stomach she felt a fuzzy, butterfly-like sensation. She always felt this way with Noctis. No matter how old they got, that feeling would remain strong. As they grew older, that feeling grew stronger. Obasi raised a hand to scratch her graying beard bashfully. She pursed her lips and maintained her silence, her features only shifting when she brought the cigar to her lips for another trawl of smoke that whispered quietly from her mouth shortly after.This caught Noctis’s attention.Obasi noticed the light of Noctis’s phone switching off and felt a weight on her chest not long after. Noctis was leaning on her, staring right at her. She knew it. Her heart started beating faster and her expression turned almost angry. She wasn’t conscious of this, she didn’t know how else to express herself. Noctis made her feel so feverish, even when she wasn’t doing a thing. She grumbled, the sound reverberating in her chest.How in the Divine’s name had they gotten here?Obasi still didn’t look at Noctis, even when Noctis broke the silence.“You’re not even gonna put that damn thing away when we’re together?” she asked. Obasi knew the question was rhetorical even without registering Noctis’s tone. Noctis loved to prod her with jokes like this.Obasi breathed in smoke again, then lowered her arm. “Don’t push your luck.”Noctis chuckled at this, head head leaning back on Obasi’s shoulder, making some attempt to get Obasi to look at her. At first she didn’t even move. Then, when Noctis said nothing, not even a follow up to her joke, Obasi finally looked at her.When their eyes locked, Obasi’s heart didn’t stop, it just hammered even faster in her chest. She held her breath, and when she exhaled some smoke drifted to Noctis’s face. Her lips pursed sheepishly upon noticing Noctis inhale despite the smoke. The smaller animan shifted against her, getting comfortable against Obasi’s soft, luscious mane.Noctis had always thought fondly of Obasi and she would never understand it. In a way, Noctis looked up to Obasi. She had been able to discover parts of herself because of Obasi, and Obasi, quite frankly, still wasn’t sure what to make of it. She saw that admiration every time Noctis looked at her, ocean blues laced with awe and another feeling that they both refused to put words to.Obasi just stared. Maybe Noctis had a point; she did smoke a lot. The cigar wasn’t distracting her anymore and it was burning out anyway. Obasi grumbled and leaned forward enough to set it in the ashtray before sitting back. Noctis got comfortable in her position again.“That’s better,” Noctis spoke with a sing-song hum. “I like it when you keep your eyes on me.”“You’re greedy. You don’t deserve the spotlight.” Obasi returned the humorous expression. Despite her words, Noctis remained in the metaphorical spotlight, her eyes locked on the silver-haired animan. Noctis made her head spin and her heart beat like it never had before.“Hard to leave it when you always got it on me.” Noctis snickered, her arms folding comfortably. “Thanks for inviting me, by the way. Needed a quiet night.”Had Noctis not followed up her words, Obasi would have stammered.Oh, Divine, what do I do? Obasi still panicked anyway, flustered. Noctis had her beat– at what? It doesn't really matter now. They were here and there was no going back, Obasi didn’t want to go back as much as this feeling made her head spin. She felt more like herself and more alive than ever when she was with Noctis, and that was a feeling worth cherishing.Obasi closed her eyes for a moment, then her head shifted to the side so that her forehead touched Noctis’s for a brief moment. “Anytime.”
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
short scene: allowed to be mad
SYNOPSISA short scene based off of an idea I had for my OCs. Obasi is lost in thought while her daughter tries to get her attention about something important.
A voice was calling her name from the other room, the familiar voice of a child. Though Obasi’s mind had drifted far from the confines of reality. The voice was soon silence. She sat motionless on the couch, leaned back, cigar tucked between two fingers, with the addition of a stagnant expression. Smoke billowed from her nose as she thought about nothing in particular. That was until she felt a small tug at her sleeve. Mitsue, twelve years old and determined to gain her mother’s again, yanked as hard as she could at her mother’s coat. Obasi’s eyes snapped into her direction, her head slowly turned as well.She remembered being Mitsue’s age, tugging at the same sleeve she once tugged at before she had grown into the coat. Obasi felt a chill and grimaced slightly, trying to ignore the image of her younger self at Dubaku’s side. “Yes, Mitsue?” Obasi put her cigar in the ashtray.Had she known her daughter was nearby she wouldn’t be smoking at all. Mitsue tugged at her sleeve. “Mama, you keep ignoring me! I was calling your name!” The young chimp spoke with a disappointed shout, either hand gripped Obasi’s arm. Obasi’s eyes widened, then she hung her head slightly.“Oh, sweetie,” she began. She moved, her body shifted so she could hold her arms out to Mitsue. “I’m so sorry...”Mitsue rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but still stepped forward to be hugged by Obasi. She pouted and leaned her face into her mother’s soft fur. Mitsue spoke but her words were muffed. “Mitsue, you have to face me to speak.” Obasi reminded her with a slight chuff of amusement.Mitsue leaned back up, standing straight and glaring Obasi in the eye. “I’m tired of you ignoring me. I needed your help with something.”“Oh, well what is it?” Obasi asked, her voice quieting. She tried to stifle the growing feeling that she did something horribly, horribly wrong. An old feeling that usually followed her when she was a kid.Her daughter sighed and sat in the space next to Obasi. She didn’t respond at first, resting her elbows on her legs and her head in her palms. “Hologram wasn’t working. Doesn’t matter though, I got it figured out.” “Mitsue, I didn’t… I’m sorry.” That was all Obasi could think to say.There were no excuses. She knew she had heard a voice earlier, yet she ignored it. She ignored the voice of her daughter. Obasi felt a heaviness in her chest, a familiar sense of shame. With a subtle frown, she extended an arm around her daughter’s shoulder.“I’ll make it up to you. For ice cream Saturday, you get three scoops on your cone. That sound fair?” Obasi suggested. Mitsue leaned on her mother, squinting. “Hmm… Fine. But until then, I’m still mad at you.” Obasi chuckled, nodding.“I know. You’re allowed to be mad.”“But you aren’t allowed to smoke inside anymore. It makes you distracted, and that annoys me.” Mitsue added. If there was anything that Obasi had raised her right with, is was to be open about her emotions. Sometimes a little too open.Obasi nodded slowly. “I’ll try my best, kiddo. I promise.”
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
Story: HAUNTINGS
SYNOPSISFacing ghosts of her past, Obasi seeks out Noctis for consolation.Honestly, I'm not entirely sure how this fits into canon, but I would personally interpret it as a darker glimpse into obasi's "slice of life" rather than an actual part of the narrative.
CHAPTER 1: The Ghost
It was December.The streets of Haderia were alive. Busy with the sound of voices and machinery, neon lights polluting once crisp air. In the deepest part of the city lay the largest district amongst countless others: Bladeburn. Bladeburn was well known for being the home of the Phantoms and homes to some of the most successful crime syndicates. In the heart of the district was the Complex– an apartment building that Obasi and a good portion of her group lived in. Obasi was homed at the very top, alone in a penthouse that once belonged to her father, Dubaku, and grandfather, Kabili. Now, it was hers, just as the rest of her family’s legacy was.Keeping her mind occupied was a burdening task, busying herself with unnecessary work. Come December, she was always on edge, because that was the month her life had shattered into nothing over thirty years ago. Once upon a time, when she was just a child, December was an exciting month. It was her birth month– every child had good reason to be excited for that. Just like every other thing in her childhood, that excitement died in her before she reached eighteen. December was the same month that Faraji had taken her first love from her. December was the month she had lost her father, her grandfather– herself .What should have been a childhood was replaced by stinging alcohol and an unwilling dedication to his work. Since then, her work and the violence that came with it was the only thing that absorbed Obasi’s life. Because of that, outsiders from other districts knew well to ensure that their business in Bladeburn remained effective, productive, and most importantly, quick. Obasi knew that the industry for artillery trade was anything but quick, but she also knew how to make it work. If there was one good thing he learned from Dubaku it was how to make business boom in their district.Obasi did not relish her work, as successful as it was. As a matter of fact she hated it most of the time. So much death, pain, and conflict came from it. From the start she could have left Haderia, she could have stolen Dubaku’s money and ran. Yet she didn’t. She tried not to blame herself too deeply for what she did and what had happened to her family. Whilst it was true that the Phantom's work benefited the city— especially those less fortunate— Obasi grew weary of the blood that stained her hands. The crimson on her fingertips was not her own, rather, that of her family. To dwell on such grievances was a worthless effort.She could be tired and frustrated all she wanted, it wouldn’t change a thing. At the very least she took solace in knowing she made more change in this city than both her kin and the law combined. She had animans that relied on her group, ones that needed the work that they carried out to continue. Despite it all, she had made some kind of life for herself here, and that meant keeping the exchange of artillery going.There was one problem, one she couldn’t quite wrap her head around. To begin with, she wasn’t in a sound state of mind, nothing seemed coherent enough for her to make sense of. There was a shipment outside of the country that her group was anticipating. It had arrived, though the group who had delivered it weren’t so keen on securing the trade due to an offer made by a secondary party. For the first time in years, Obasi was struggling to find a solution. Usually the trades went through, there was no second party to consider.Such a thought carried into one thought, then another. There was a reason that business wasn’t flowing as usual. Something or someone was interfering. They had been doing work with the overseas group for years now, they relied on that shipment to trade within the city. Surely there couldn’t have been anyone else in league with them; the Phantoms had an agreement. One didn’t just break an agreement and pull in a secondary party, especially not one that Obasi was unaware of.There was a fear lingering in the back of her mind, one that was no doubt an inner conscience that she chose to pay little mind to. Sure, there had been murmurings in the city, ones that Obasi wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, it could have been anything. There were always strange things happening in the city.Though, Obasi couldn't help but to think of those who followed Faraji, it had always seemed odd to her that they had simply fallen into obscurity. Certainly it couldn't have been them? Almost thirty years had passed since she had escaped Faraji and the Ravagers. Despite the thought of their return, there was no evidence that it was truly them. Her fur stood at the thought of it, her head felt heavy. The very thought of Faraji having always been alive was enough for her to freeze up. She was older now, so much older, yet everything that she had done to her and her family was still fresh in her mind.He was the reason that so much blood stained Obasi’s hands.Obasi had begun to realize that her head was spinning.Obasi gripped the arm of the chair she was sitting in, her head hanging slightly. Suddenly she felt nauseated at the thought. Her other hand clenched the glass of bourbon.What if everything happened again?What if she lost everything?What if she was found again ?Now Obasi’s mind was far from the deal, spiraling thoughts had fallen into a deep, dark place that she was always sure to neglect and repress. She could taste iron on her tongue. The taste was faint, like it was at the back of his mouth, just like it had been years ago. The large animan was frozen in place, her own mind reaching out to her and enveloping in a memory most unwanted. The memory had such brutal arms, wrapping around her and surrounding her in nothing but that taste of blood. And that smell.That awful smell .Despite the fact that she was in her apartment, she could have sworn there was the fragrance of something decaying. Rot lingered in the air, the only gentleness that she felt as she was pulled deeper and deeper into the memory. Soon enough, she had set foot into the memory, like she was there all over again. Around her she saw familiar cold walls, stained with the dark, faded traces of blood stained on old concrete, and something hanging from the ceiling not far from her. Her eyes peeled over the barren room. Had anyone cared, it could have been filled with furniture, but this seemed more like a meat cooler than a living space.It was all so real now. Like she was reliving this moment all over again.Obasi felt rigid metal around her arms. She blinked, looking downward. Her body was bound to the wall, her arms strung upwards by iron chains, the cuffs tight around her wrists. The iron stung her wrists, feeling cold and painful all the same. Obasi tugged on the chains to no avail, her whole body felt weak. Every muscle ached from having tried to escape time and time again, her stomach felt as if it had been carved from her body, and her head… Her head was so light that she could barely see now. Obasi could only experience the pain from this harrowing memory.This was the place that Faraji and his Ravagers had taken Obasi to shortly after Everest and their son, Dakarai, had disappeared. It never made sense to her— how Faraji had amassed such a loyal following. Loyal enough that they were willing to challenge Obasi herself and carry out such heinous acts. Her best guess was that Faraji promised and maybe even provided something of higher importance, or perhaps they all carried the same skewed morality just as she did. Such a thought was familiar too, as it was the very thought that ran through her head for the time that she was chained up in this awful place. That, and the wish for death.Never before had Obasi pleaded with death itself to take her hand, yet when she cried, nobody came. Not even Death.Tears welled in her eyes, the blurriness of her vision being the only saving grace from looking at the bloodstained walls and the dark form of a body that hung across from her on the other side.She hadn’t noticed that the dark figure was a body until now. She knew whose body that was. It had been a while since he thought of Everest. Everest was her first and only love when she was younger, they had shown her some normalcy in life. They were her escape, her everything. For some time she had even imagined a life with them. The birth of Dakari was the closest thing Obasi had felt to hope in some time. When she carried her baby and held him in her arms for the first time, she felt as if that was what hope truly was. Yet that hope had since shrouded into terror, just as everything had always been. Terror .Now all she could remember of them was the rotten thing that hung from its neck in front of her, taunting her. Their body was missing an arm– something that was surely inflicted after Faraji had killed them and brought them here.Before they had both ended up in this place, Obasi had searched near and far for Everest. One day they had gone missing, and not even their parents had any care for their disappearance. At the very least, Obasi remembered that they had told her Everest called. Allegedly Everest had told them that they left the city with Dakarai. That alone had never made sense to Obasi. She and Everest had their disagreements, though never anything that warranted such a reaction. Everest would have told her if they were leaving and Obasi would have gone with them if they had. If she could go back in time and change everything, she would have left the city with Everest and raised their son far from this hellish place.But there was no going back. There was no life for them. Eventually Obasi would learn the truth.Everest had never left the city. They had been here the whole time. Here in this room their cold body hung quietly while flies danced around them, the only company they most likely had before they died. Obasi didn’t know how they had died. Faraji had never told her.And Dakarai, her first son—No .Not this time .Her baby wasn’t here this time.Her mind had always seemed to run blanks when it came to Dakarai. She had never learned of the fate his son had met. Faraji had only ever mentioned that they had taken “care” of the child. Even when she had returned to recover the remains of her love, if there was anything left of their baby, it wasn’t here. Maybe there never was anything left of Dakarai. Obasi could hardly remember what her son had looked like, and nowadays she only remembered Everest as a cold, lifeless figure.In the back of her mind she knew this was all just a ghost, although it was one that she had been forced to relive more times than she could count. She had never felt more afraid, even when she had found her father dead, in life her father never would have come for her anyway. Obasi was truly alone in this place.Obasi shook against her iron restraints, her body trembling from the cold and fear. She looked away from Everest. Even when she heard approaching footsteps she did not move. She hadn’t the strength to even blink, much less look to see who was approaching. From the smell alone she knew who it was.Faraji always had such an awful stench, the smell of decay had always clung heavy to his fur. It was fresher than the smell in the basement. He wore it proudly, as a reminder of how strong he truly was despite every feeble thing about him. Obasi feared him. She feared him more than death itself. From the moment Obasi had met her, there had always been something about Faraji. It was not his strength, nor his influence, but the sheer magnitude of his hatred. Obasi feared how such hatred could exist in this world. How one could carry something as heavy as the burden of hate. Hate had turned Faraji into something that Obasi wanted nothing more than to hide from. She never knew Faraji before he had fallen into his own mind; as far as he knew, Faraji had always been like this.Obasi squeezed her eyes shut. In the midst of hysteria she attempted to remind herself that this was just a memory. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t real, even when very real hands touched her face, even when that hand forced her to look into the emerald eye of cessation.Faraji’s eyes were as vivid in her mind as they had been all that time ago. His cold touch was as vile as it had been many times before. A part of Obasi had begun to doubt if this was just a memory. How cruel it was that she remembered Faraji so vividly. Her brows furrowed and she bared her teeth weakly at the smaller ape.“Don’t you dare touch me,” Obasi growled out with as much strength as she could muster.Faraji sucked his teeth, a poisonous grin pulling at his lips. “You’re in no position to make demands, Obasi.” he hissed, his words slurred by his torn lips.Obasi snapped her teeth in response, the chains behind her rattling at the stress of her movement. Faraji’s voice was so vivid. Obasi’s features fell flat and she weakly slouched against the momentum of the chains holding her up. “I just want to go home." Obasi grumbled in pain.“But you are home. You and your sweetheart ,” Faraji retorted, tucking his arms behind his back. He leaned uncomfortably close to the other, his head twisting to the side. “You know? This place was my home for the longest time. While you and your father ruled the streets, I found my place beneath the ground.”Obasi did not respond, her eyes hadn’t even flickered to look at Faraji. She could taste iron in her mouth.“Ever since you were a child, I wanted to bring you here." Faraji leaned away, sighing in a display of false sympathy.“You wanted me dead since I was a child.” Obasi’s amethyst eyes finally locked on the smaller gorilla. She breathed in harshly, gritting her teeth.“Oh?” Faraji’s voice perked, echoing against concrete walls. “It’s far more than that, girl.”Obasi sneered. She was not a young girl anymore. Not a weak, impulsive child that followed her father’s every will and bent the knee in fear when one raised her voice. No, she was not afraid like she used to be. She still held fear in his heart, but no longer did fear control it. Now, it haunted her, but she still had control. If only she had known that back then.“I couldn’t make Kabili suffer, couldn’t make your father feel it either.” Faraji began, a hand lifting to grasp one of the chains attached to the iron cuffs. He tugged at it.“They already had the world in their hands, and I didn’t want that world. I just wanted them to know what I felt,” his voice softened. If one hadn’t known the kind of animan Faraji was, perhaps they could feel sympathetic for him. “But you? I could make you feel everything I felt,” Faraji smiled. He relished in the pleasure that pain brought, even more so when he brought pain to his own kin.Obasi felt sick to her stomach about it, a pained sound leaving her. Despite knowing she was older now, that all of this was a memory, in that moment she felt like a frightened young child– just he was all that time ago. “I-I don’t want to!” Obasi pleaded in anguish, tears falling from her eyes to his fur.Faraji’s hand had begun to reach out to her. Before that cold palm could hold the side of her face, she heard the sound of glass shattering.She blinked, and suddenly he was back home. She was in the living room again. Her chest rose and fell frantically as her eyes swerved every which way, wondering where the concrete and smell of rot had gone. Faraji, too, was gone. Just as she had been before she was alone.Obasi blinked, breathing out harshly through her mouth. When her left hand formed a fist, she felt something sting. Obasi chuffed in surprise at this, opening her hand and quickly raising it. There was a long cut on her palm. That was when she recognized the smell of alcohol on her fur and saw the gleam of shattered glass both in her lap and on the floor.She must have crushed the glass. Obasi slowly set her hand back down against the arm of the chair, sighing.Tense, she sat there for a few minutes, staring at the wall and wondering why her mind had brought her back to that memory. Memories were the one thing she would never have control over, no matter how hard she tried. Whatever she had been thinking about before was far from her mind, she could hardly think about work aside from a few details. There was one thing that crossed her mind, though. Obasi didn’t
CHAPTER 2: Whispers
Here in the dead of night over a cigar, far from bustling civilization did Obasi find asylum. The Howling was a small jazz club. The club was quiet that night, aside from the gentle hum of idle music and quiet conversations drifting through the air. The ambience allowed Obasi not to slip too far into reflection. Obasi hoped it was over for now. For her own sake, she needed to be anywhere but home right now. She needed to be somewhere safe . This was as good as it got.The jazz club was vintage in its appearance, almost like a futuristic tavern. A strip of pink neon light ran across the wall throughout the club, casting an ambient glow upon the patrons. There was a stage nearby where four animans– two alligators, a boar, and a tamarin– performed their music quietly. Tables littered the center of the room where multiple animans were gathered, talking about stars knew what. For just a moment, Obasi wondered if they too had been brought to this place for a similar reason. To find solace. To forget. Obasi liked this club because of its softness, a much-needed change of pace from the usual clubs she spent time in.This place had become something of a sanctuary for both Obasi and Noctis. Maybe they met in this place because it kept them from getting too close. She would never let Noctis in entirely, but as the days passed, it became increasingly difficult to. Obasi often avoided making close company. Noctis was different– closer than others. She had always been too afraid to let her in, yet Noctis had found a way into her heart, like she had hollowed out a spot in it just for herself.Now that Noctis meant something to her, Obasi couldn’t quite keep herself away from her. Something about Noctis had her enamored. Often she thought of Noctis as a balance to herself, as strange as it seemed, and balance was not easily found in a life such as her own. The same could be said for Noctis, as well. Noctis had taken an unexpected liking to the kingpin and as a result had become quite protective over Obasi. Not that Obasi needed protection or companionship— as nice as it was. She tied not to think too much about what she and Noctis were, what mattered is that they had each other.Noctis was the only one who knew of the memories. Obasi had yet to tell Noctis about Everest, at least not by name. Thirty years and she still never quite knew what to make of what had happened with Faraji. Obasi had never opened up about what had happened in that cold place, not even to Jericho or her eldest daughter. They didn’t need to know. That was why she asked for Noctis to come– the only problem was that Noctis wasn’t here yet and Obasi was getting a bit antsy.She knew during the nights Noctis was far more busy than she was and besides, they hadn’t planned this. That alone should have been enough for Noctis to know something was the matter, and part of Obasi was beginning to regret this. Opening up was never easy, she thought of herself weak any time she had. Yet here she was hoping that Noctis would be here, that she could tell her everything, that she could confide in her and feel okay again.Obasi wanted comfort and she felt ashamed of it.She had begun to fidget with the sleeve of her coat. Fortunately for her, a kind waitress was able to shake her out of all these thoughts. She was a macaque with a tray that held an assortment of vegetarian snacks. They had been prepared specifically for her– it was a big deal that the king of Haderia was at their quaint little club after all.The kingpin gave a warm smile to the younger animan, taking one of the vegetable bakes. “Thank you.” she murmured. After the waitress had left her line of sight, there stood a familiar figure a few tables away.It was a tall, broad lowland gorilla animan dressed in a black tank and denim jeans, and some roughed up combat boots. Noctis always held herself with this kind of power that seemed to make the air still, or maybe that was just Obasi being dramatic any time she laid eyes on her. Upon seeing her, Obasi swore she had never felt such relief before. Simultaneously her chest felt heavy and there was a fuzziness deep within her ribcage and enveloped her chest.Obasi cleared her throat slightly, averting her eyes. Noctis couldn’t catch her staring. Her attention instead went to the cigar she held between old, scarred fingers. Idly she slowly twirled the thing, watching as a small trail of smoke moved with it. Amethyst eyes flickered to the side when Noctis came into view, slowly leaning down to sit in the empty space beside Obasi. The couch usually fit four people, but Obasi and Noctis were amongst some of the largest animans. That night, it was a couch fit for two.“Sorry I’m late.” Noctis spoke with an almost song-like hum in her deep voice. Her voice was soothing to Obasi, like a low, gentle wave. The kind of soft voice she wanted to hear that night. The silver gorilla leaned back on the couch— which creaked under her weight— getting comfortable. “The ring was busy tonight. Mostly cause’ we had a fella all the way from the North. He was from Bristlegrass I think. Almost had me on my ass.. But when you called, I dropped the last fight.”Obasi was quiet for a moment. Noctis had hardly ever dropped fights before, but any time she had, it was for her. Something about that never failed to stir this ridiculous, fuzzy feeling in her belly. She couldn’t tell if it was excitement or sheepishness, maybe both. Obasi had dropped her own work a few times for Noctis, though she never quite expected for it to be reciprocated.A few chuffs left the larger animan and she raised the wrapped tobacco to her lips.“Wish I could have seen it.” Obasi hummed to herself, taking a drag from her cigar. He usually wouldn’t have struck conversation like this, but with her mind spinning, she had to find something to mediate her thoughts. She usually didn't even care about the fights, especially when it came to Noctis being on the short end of the stick. A part of her did wish he had seen the fight, though. Obasi wasn't being so subtle about her nerves. Noctis was already reading her like a book. Even through a cold, seemingly motionless demeanor, Noctis could see it all through those haunting purple eyes. When her body said nothing, her eyes spoke a million words. "I've been busy with work at the docks. Got my mind all wound up." Obasi spoke upon becoming aware of her demeanor.“The docks? You’re still getting trouble there, I’m guessing.” Noctis inquired, suddenly intrigued. Noctis wasn’t unfamiliar with the underground– she was a pit fighter after all, one of the best in Haderia. Though what Obasi did was far different and more complex than anything she had ever been involved in. So, Noctis kept her nose out of criminal work, but when her best friend was the King of Haderia, she couldn’t help but get a little curious about what Obasi was up to. She had a feeling there was more than just work on the kingpin’s mind.“Uh…” Obasi hesitated for a second, her eyes narrowing back on her cigar. Her gaze was subtle when it left the narcotic, drifting along the somewhat empty room. Every other animan was occupied with their own conversation and drink. “The deal— it didn’t go through.”Noctis perked up, already invested. She leaned her weight on one elbow when she sat up. “The deal with the–”“Don’t say their name,” Obasi quickly cut Noctis off. Even if no one was listening, she had to stay quiet to some degree. The gorilla inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly. “We got the gear, but there’s someone who’s dropped a higher price for it. As far as I know, the guns haven’t gone through to them. I can’t–” she gestured a hand slightly, her teeth baring for a moment in a sneer. She was awful at lying, even when she bluffed with confidence. “I can’t let them take it.”“You gave them the money?” Noctis asked.Obasi froze up. Noctis was catching onto her. “No, of course not. Dealing with groups overseas can be dangerous, it’s why we wait to meet at the docks to make it final. There’s some bastard who caught wind of the deal, and I don’t know who,” Obasi growled, trying not to crush her cigar. Her lip twitched in clear frustration before taking a long drag from the narcotic, inhaling every last ounce of smoke until it enveloped her lungs like a burning fire. That fire burned well, took the edge off, just a little bit. Obasi exhaled smoke that faded in the air, stained neon pink by the surrounding area.“There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there.”Obasi froze. Her eyes narrowed on Noctis.Noctis’s head slanted. “I can see it in your eyes, Obasi,” her cybernetic arm lifted to gesture slightly at her. It fell back to her lap with a mechanical whir. “This isn’t just about those guns.”Obasi's brows furrowed. “You should come stay with me tonight.” Noctis then added before Obasi could even think of resisting. She knew all too well what Obasi was going to say, and quite frankly, she wasn’t having any of it.For a moment the amethyst-eyed silverback hesitated, her previously stoic demeanor seeming to fade entirely at the mention of spending the night with Noctis. It wouldn’t have been the first time that she had stayed with her. Sometimes the nights were more bearable if she was with Noctis. her features stiffened, attempting to hold onto some shroud of defensiveness before she slowly nodded. “Yeah…”“ Yeah , I’d like that,” Obasi murmured, looking away from the other sheepishly. She fidgeted with her cigar.Noctis couldn’t resist a smile. She was almost impressed with how easy that was. Obasi would usually fight tooth and nail to insist that he was fine, that she didn’t need any company. Tonight was different. There was something different about Obasi and Noctis knew it. Noctis had a feeling that she knew, but she wasn’t going to push Obasi to talk about it.Obasi brought the cigar to her lips again. Before she could take a drag, Noctis’s hand had suddenly but gently her wrist, letting go almost as soon as she had taken it. “Your hand.” she murmured, her brows furrowing with a newfound concern. She almost asked what happened, instead she plucked the cigar from Obasi’s hand and set it in the ashtray nearby. Taking the larger hand in her own, she upturned Obasi's injured palm. The cut didn’t look deep, merely a long catscratch; still noticeable.Obasi chuffed, though she didn’t pull her hand away. “S’just a cut,” she said, not lying entirely. Her lip upturned slightly in a sheepish grin, “Nothin’ to worry about.”Noctis pursed her lips, grunting at Obasi slightly. She dipped her head, pressing it gently against the other’s neck, her head then leaning against a broad, fur-covered shoulder. The gesture brought reassurance, letting that heaviness fall from Obasi’s shoulders. That fuzzy feeling in her chest remained all the same. Obasi inhaled, hesitating for just a second before she leaned her cheek against the side of Noctis’s head. Slowly his hand closed around the other’s, not minding the slight sting against the cut.The slight weight of Noctis’s head on her shoulder and the pang of skin against an open wound kept her tethered to reality.Her head slanted more, her nose brushing gently against Noctis’s silver temple. The shorter gorilla tilted her head, her nose almost bumping against Obasi’s. Such a gesture startled them upon realizing how close they had gotten. The two of them breathed out, Obasi shifted back– as did Noctis. Noctis smiled, biting her lip slightly in a flustered gesture. They had known each other for decades now, closer to one another than they had ever been to anyone else, yet they always faltered when they got too close. For however long it’d last, that would always be something that was left unspoken between the two of them. In this moment, however, that sheepish sensation brought Obasi comfort– and Noctis too.Obasi could finally begin to feel some sense of ease. No longer did she feel that heaviness on her shoulders and her chest was no longer heavy with fear. She’d take the feeling of bashfulness over the sense of anxiety. She realized she was still holding Noctis’s hand. Dark eyes tinted as she looked downwards to their hands. Idly her thumb brushed over the back of the other’s before relaxing.There was silence between them. Obasi’s eyes tentatively met Noctis, who had the most mischievous smile on her face. Obasi knew that look all too well, and it did little to quell the sheepishness in her. She squeezed Noctis’s hand. Now her lips twisted in a slight grin.“Can you tell me what happened at that fight?” Obasi nudged Noctis’s shoulder, inquiring. “Curious if you got put on your ass or not.”Almost immediately, the grin on the other animan’s face had dissipated. Noctis gasped in false offense at that, shoving Obasi back. “You know I never let anyone put me on my ass! Didn’t know you thought so lowly of me,” she snickered, rolling ocean eyes playfully.Noctis’s thumb gently stroked along the back of Obasi’s hand, her ocean gaze wandering to watch this thumb comb over graying fur, “Because I left the fight early, so there wasn’t a winner determined,” she continued, a grumble of content leaving her. “On the bright side, though, we scheduled a rematch for next week. I already beat that poor sucker into a pulp, he wouldn’t have survived another round, anyway.”“Good.” Obasi teased, her other hand lifting to ruffle Noctis’s short hair.Noctis chuffed twice before she lifted her head, lightly biting at Obasi’s finger to get her to pull away. Obasi just as lightly battered her once on the nose instead. Noctis chuckled, once more leaning her head against Obasi’s shoulder.“You think you could make it?” Noctis then asked, her voice quieting slightly.“To the fight?” Obasi inquired, her head leaning to rest against the other’s once more. She thought for a moment.Noctis hummed, lips brushing against Obasi’s well-kept mane as she shifted, “Mhm.”“Course’ I will. Wouldn’t miss it for the world." Obasi hummed back, a low, guttural sound that she hardly ever made. There was often no reason to. But Noctis always seemed to bring out the sides of her that even she was unaware of.Noctis returned the grumble of content, her fingers unwinding from Obasi’s. Her hand drifted to hold the back of the other’s, raising it enough that she could get a good look at the cut on her hand– and generally admire how much larger Obasi’s hand was in comparison to her own. Obasi made her feel small yet safe, that he was cared for and seen. Such vulnerability was seldom felt in a world as cold as their own. Nobody in this city could afford vulnerability when every waking moment was a battle, but for just one second everything seemed to come to a halt when they were together. Noctis wondered if Obasi felt the same. If she felt small like this, too.Noctis’s fingertips ran gently through the long fur atop the other’s hand. “Do you want to tell me why we’re here?” she murmured.At the question Obasi almost immediately felt bile in her throat. Her head slanted, eyes shutting for just a moment. To soothe herself she inhaled the scent of Noctis’s fur— a rustic smell of dirt and blood, as she was fresh from the ring. “I…” Obasi hesitated, eyes fluttering open again as she debated if she was to tell the truth or not. They danced around many things, stalling was the one thing these two were great at, especially Obasi. However, she was now running out of things to stall with.Obasi wished she had brought more than just one cigar. That would have made it a little easier for her to say out loud. Shecould only pray that one day it would be easier to say aloud.“I saw him again,” Obasi murmured, her voice quieting to a hesitant whisper, soft enough that even quiet music could drown it out. “This time it was shorter, but it still…” her lips formed a thin line. Obasi's injured hand curled into a fist. The wound stung as worn muscles clenched together. The sting hardly made her flinch. “Still felt like I was right there again.”After she had spoken, she felt daft. To admit such a feeling was nothing short of vulnerable, and Obasi despised vulnerability. Yet it came so naturally in her instance, he wasn’t sure if she had it in herself to feel anything other than ridiculous. Her eyes wandered to the cigar that was burned away in the ashtray
Story: BITTER MEDICINE
SYNOPSISDays ago, Obasi advised Noctis to dodge this fight. They both knew this would be a dangerous decision... Or was it? Determined to prove Obasi wrong, Noctis takes the fight anyway, harboring dire results. After Noctis approaches Obasi for some consolation following her bloody victory, it becomes clear to them that this was about far more than just the fight.This "flashback" story provides a glimpse into the past of Obasi, Noctis, and their daughter Mitsue, and the kind of troubles that they face when clashing beliefs, livlihoods, and attitudes collide. There is no right or wrong, only the choice to be better, and what must be done to pursue that choice.Story inspired by "Bitter Medicine" by the Crane Wives.
CONTENT WARNING!This story contains themes and imagery of (fictional) graphic violence that may not be suitable for people under the age of 16. This is a story intended primarily for mature audiences. Imagery of gore, blood, VERY brief mentions of suggestive themes, vulgar lanuage/cursing, and implied CPTSD is also present, please read with caution.
CHAPTER 1: THE IRON BRUISER
YEAR: 10072
INNER HADERIA, THE KYSSARO DISTRICT.
DEEP UNDERGROUND— EPSILON’S RING
NOCTISNeon laced buildings loomed across the fading purple-blue sky. Waves licked the shoreline, receding back into darkening waters. Beyond the beaches and boardwalks, beneath the vibrant obelisks, lay the ruins of an old world now reconstructed. Within rusted walls the promise of a blood soaked battle and chilling thrills brought animans of all kinds together. These ruins nursed a vast arena: Epsilon’s Ring. This pit was locally famous for harboring skilled cyberized gladiators from around the city. It’s founder, Epsilon Akkaias, was one of the few eternities in Haderia that had little to nothing left of her original body, aside from her organs. She had founded this ring many years ago when she still maintained a fraction of her original flesh and thus lost herself to the riches, much like her ring’s inhabitants.The only way to access Epsilon's pit were three narrow stairways that descended from a front on the surface. Many years had passed, enough that it was impossible to tell what this building was before Epsilon had converted it into what it was today. Once narrow passageways were exited, this brought the patrons to a less narrow, open room that extended in a loop over four looming levels that towered like a subterranean borough. Bordering the walls were different rooms such as private lounges, a bar, even a restaurant in coarse condition. Everything that a boisterous place like this needed. The fighting ring itself was in the lowest level of the vast compound, in the center of all the action with a hollowed out base. Surrounding the open core of the dirt floored ring were rows of bleachers where crowds of animans sat. Others stood, others shoved each other out of the way for the best seat in the house.That night the arena was crammed with eager animans testing their luck in extreme bets and poisoning their organic and inorganic systems with alcohol. They were eager for good reason. This was the match-up that countless animans had been anticipating for months now. Music burgeoned, vibrating the ground above and below. Stentorian voices hollered for a victory not yet won. Most of the bets placed were landed on one animan: the Iron Bruiser. That’s who they knew her as, at least. Every loyal fan piled up on the rows of concrete bleachers with a bottle clutched in their clammy paws had no clue of the Iron Bruiser’s real name. Quite frankly, Noctis was content with that. She was here to put on a show and intended to make enough money to make ends meet. Noctis had never been quite fond of her employer, though. Epsilon valued her fighters at the expense of greed and a scandalous attitude. Not that Noctis was much better, but at least her ego was mostly in check.From where Noctis stood in what was now becoming mud, it looked as if the nexus of levels were skyscrapers themselves, conjoined in a hexagonal cirque that constricted her. She gazed upwards at the lights that shone down on her from the highest level. From down here, it looked like a prismatic sun, bathing her in the light of diodes.Noctis panted, her fists clenched, migraine pounding in her skull. She licked the blood from her lips, eyeing the arena. She tried not to think of what Obasi had told her just days ago when she had taken this fight: “This fight is a death sentence. You’re going to be outmatched.” Noctis practically saw her standing ahead of her, amethyst daggers making an uncomfortable place in her ribs.Before she could have any more time to linger, her head lulled when she heard the announcer’s voice. The announcer was a ram animan with curled, overgrown horns, Noctis always forgot his name. His hooves turned up dust as he hopped down from the ledge.“Are you ready?” the announcer shouted. He extended his arms graciously, the crowd roared. “The Iron Bruiser stands victorious… Or does she?” The ram pointed to Noctis. Noctis held her head high, puffing out her chest with a sneer. “Now, the Iron Bruiser will face the ultimate killing machine. He’s the real reason you’re all here. Eternity vs eternity… The most bloodthirsty battle you’ll ever witness. On Epsilon’s behalf, we present: THE IRON BRUISER VERSUS… THE MARAUDER!”After plundering her way through the opening rounds, Noctis was face to face with the true contender of the night: the Marauder, a tactical eternity built for the kill. Long ago he was an alligator animan that now sported a mostly artificial body. A metal tricorn now encased his head, molded perfectly to the flesh and skull beneath. Though the Marauder was not nearly as artificial as Epsilon was, he still bore an uncanny resemblance between animan and machine. Noctis could never muster why an animan would willingly go this far for power. Epsilon didn’t count, because she must have had some kind of sick fetish for cyberization to get this far. The Marauder, however, was hellbent on reaching absolute potentiality.With pride in every step, he trudged into the fighting ring, muscular arms outstretched and basking in the attention that he received. He towered over her, easily standing over ten feet. Of course, this was not his original height, as he had willingly ripped away everything that he previously was to become an executioner. This was an animan that took great pride in his mechanized nature, one who had chosen to become this way. Noctis’s brows lowered, her nose wrinkling at this.And so the fight began.The first two matches went by quickly, Noctis had knocked the Marauder onto his tail without struggle, but as the final match drew closer, a fire had begun to burn in her opponent. The Marauder wasn’t going down easy. This was Noctis’s first time taking on such a collision; if only Obasi was here to see it. Noctis wondered if she’d be proud, even after all the times she had told her not to take this dangerous opportunity. Noctis hardly listened to Obasi when it came to the pits, what did she know about these fights?Nothing.Maybe she wouldn’t have been proud, she’d probably just be glaring at her from her personal seat above the crowd, her sunset gaze cutting into Noctis like a knife. Yet here in the ring, her knuckles aching and metal arm blistering with steam, Noctis pined for her. She pined for the way Obasi only paid attention to her. She couldn’t suffocate the hunger for Obasi despite how much she sought to. This desperation catalyzed Noctis, it masticated her enough to assemble the strength needed to keep fighting, as if to prove herself like Obasi was here anyway.Now she stood here face to face with her opponent in muddy, blood soaked dirt, surrounded by obsidian metal and drunken fans shouting their false names with ferocity.The titanium anomaly had managed to use his claws to loosely impale Noctis, but with adrenaline coursing through her veins she hardly noticed. When he circled Noctis, she noticed a faint limp in his left leg, yet the Marauder continued with confidence, despite the injuries she caused him. Somehow she had managed to avoid the snapping maw of the Marauder for most of the fight and the times his teeth had sunk into her, it was on her dense metal arm. That would be a pain to get repaired later.In a macabre way this stroked Noctis’s well-hidden ego, what was previously in check began bubbling to the surface. She was the Iron Bruiser for a reason. To put her down was far from an easy task, at times, she felt as if she was indestructible. With newfound anger coursing through her veins it was certainly starting to feel that way.Now they were both agitated and ready to get this fight over with. Noctis was scanning her opponent for any other signs of weakness. It wasn’t until the Marauder snapped his jaws at Noctis again, a hiss escaping this lip-less, metallic mouth, that Noctis spotted an ineffectualness in his machinery.“Has the Iron Bruiser finally met her match?” the Marauder hissed, his grovely voice shrouded in artificial tone. Noctis wasn’t going to give in to the taunting. It was a relentlessly overdone tactic, one that did little to stir Noctis. She ignored the reptilian and instead focused on the sparks that followed his words.There.Her sight was on the cybernetic joint where the eternity’s mandible met his temporal. The round before Noctis had delivered a blow to his jaw; seems it did more damage than she had thought. She always wore her opponents down until the little imperfections had no choice but to rear their heads. That was the Marauder’s weakness. More sparks fluttered from the Marauder’s mouth, obstructing whatever words he had attempted to sputter out. The crowd was becoming louder and louder now, almost distracting. Noctis bared her teeth.Now.Marauder charged at Noctis, his toothy jaw flying open with a mechanized roar. Noctis gritted her teeth and turned on her heels, dodging to the side fast enough that she nearly fell. Two chuffs escaped parted lips. She just barely caught herself on her left knuckles. Noctis had the advantage now. Marauder had his back to her. Before the reptile could completely face her Noctis quickly rose to her feet and sprung forward, latching onto the Marauder from behind.The large Eternity swung his head from side to side, trying to shake Noctis. Noctis managed to hold on for a short amount of time before the Marauder fell to the ground and moments later was rolling in an attempt to free himself of Noctis. Fortunately for him, Noctis let go. She was on her back now, trying to catch her breath. Her side was throbbing with pain yet she persevered.Well shit. Time for plan B, she thought to herself as she began to stand.Marauder shrieked once more, “You sick little bitch!” His foot stomped against the dirt ground before charging at Noctis mindlessly, steam billowing from his neck and the glow of overheated machinery emitting from his mouth. Noctis’s own arm was beginning to overheat, the mechanisms heightened her adrenaline. Both of Noctis’s arms raised, in either palm she held the upper and lower jaw of the Marauder. It took every last muscle– both of flesh and metal– to withhold the strength of the larger animan. Her prosthetic arm cranked upwards against the pressure of the other eternity’s jaw, threatening to buckle. Pain seared through Noctis’s arms, causing her to yell out, fanged teeth bared to make matters worse, Marauder’s razor sharp teeth began to pierce her palms the further and further she pulled his jaws apart.“C’MON!” she screamed, the need to win coursing through her veins. The agony was enough for Noctis to muster the strength she needed to claim her victory. Steam rolled out onto her face from burning mechanics in the throat of the alligator.Then, there it was. More sparks.The crowd was raving now. Their voices gave initiative. Blood coiled down from her palms to her arms, staining her with a crimson victory.This is it.Noctis laughed. The Marauder snarled out, but only flecks of electricity glittered from his maw now. A hideous metallic screech began to fill the air, followed by a petrified wail. Noctis began pulling his once indestructible metal jaw apart, slowly but steadily. The further she pulled, the louder the sound of breaking metal became. The joint that once held his skull together was faltering, the hinges began to snap the farther she meticulously ripped him apart.She pushed back against her opponent, using the momentum to raise herself to her feet. As she did so, she heard a crack. The Marauder’s neck had snapped under the weight, yet somehow they still glared into Noctis’s eyes.Guess his brain isn’t connected to his spine. She momentarily thought, but she had no time to ponder the logistics of this.
Noctis yelled in the face of the Marauder and with the last of her strength. In a terrorizing caterwaul of metal, Noctis separated the Marauder’s maxilla. It tore effortlessly from his head in a cluster of meaty gore and electric sparks, blood splashed in a wave from his throat, gushing onto the ground. Noctis was just a few inches from the vermilion bath. The crowd cheered. This was the bloodbath that the Iron Bruiser promised them. The Marauder fell back into the red dirt, which flew up into the air. Satisfied patrons went wild. Noctis caught her breath, a cocky smile pulling at her lips. It wasn’t everyday that she could put on a show that good. It was gonna be hard to top this fight. Meanwhile the Marauder was thrashing around pathetically, trying to find where his lower jaw had fallen. He attempted to curse out Noctis, but she had evidently tore his artificial vocal box from his larynx, which laid attached to a string of slaughter nearby.
The Marauder’s crimson gaze locked onto Noctis, he pathetically tried to stand, but collapsed each time.The referee trotted into the ring. “Start the count!”Voices of hundreds of animans chimed out.“FIVE!”Noctis inhaled, stepping to the side.“FOUR!”The Marauder remained motionless, still glaring.“THREE!”Noctis smirked, circling the Marauder.“TWO!”The Marauder’s eye closed, finally defeated.“ONE!”Noctis raised her fist and pounded it against her chest. The crowd raved, chanting her name again and again. If not the money, then this was what it was all about. She wished Obasi had been here to see this. The rush of delirium was infectious.But that was about an hour ago, by now the adrenaline was gone.Epsilon had given her the promised pay of the night and now Noctis was alone in the locker rooms, listening to the crowd shuffle out from the ring. Her victory was now a memory and her pockets just barely filled with money that she did not value.She had hit the shower to clean herself of the Marauder’s foul-smelling blood. She sat on a bench shirtless and exhausted, pain surged through her side from where he had impaled her. Fortunately it was just a flesh wound that just barely broke through to her muscle and wasn’t deep enough to injure any organs. Noctis had endured injuries like this many times in the past, she bore the scars to prove it. The worst of the injuries she had endured was her arm some years ago. She rolled her iron shoulder, the sound of whirring biomachinery reflected off concrete walls. Bleeding made her feel real, like she wasn’t all iron. She wasn’t anything like that killer.Maybe Obasi had been right. As she cared for her wound, she ran Obasi’s words ran through her head again: “You’re going to be outmatched.”“Was I?” Noctis responded out loud. She chuckled under her breath, staring at the floor. Noctis had finished covering the wound as best she could and by now the pain hurt good, proof of her resilience. To her, this was nothing. She had endured far worse before, the title she now upheld was proof of it.Muscles clenched, her jaw felt tense. Noctis bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood. Noctis stood and furiously threw the bloodied rag against the locker on the wall, which rang out in a raucous clang. She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling and exhaling. Noctis flinched when she heard the sound of a chiming buzz from inside the ring. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she rapidly tied the gauze as tight as she could around her arm. Once her arm was wrapped, she studied her iron hand. It was polished enough after she had cleansed it of the Marauder’s carnage, though she identified a few hardier specks.Her metal fist curled, Noctis glared harshly at the sapphire eyes that looked back at her in jaded, reflective metal. For a moment, those eyes looked almost violet. Her fist unfurled. The hue of purple was a trick of the mind. She shook her head, a furious snort leaving her heart-shaped nose.Noctis had to get out of here. She got dressed and abandoned the ring.
CHAPTER 2: TALK BIG GAME
COMING SOON!
BLADE IN THE CITY
WHAT IS BITC?
“Blade in the City” is a sci-fi horror and crime-drama book that takes place over ten thousand years after humanity's extinction. In this future Earth, creatures derived from man-made bioweapons known as "animans" rule the world. Following in the ruins of humanity, animans have rebuilt the Earth and reestablished new countries, territories, and cities. In addition, they exist with advanced technology and artificial intelligence.This story takes place in a country known as Eaderix. Here lies the largest animan city in the world: Haderia. Haderia was once the capital of the state of Kaiurrus, though after an uprising, the government was forced out of the city and settled a new capital further up north. In the midst of that uprising, the Phantoms acted as a vigilante group that most rebels were affiliated with. The Phantoms then took control of what was left behind by governing bodies and since then has maintained economic stability in Haderia through underground activities with allied groups around and outside of Kaiurrus. To this day, Haderia continues to thrive under the eye of the Phantoms and their current leader, Obasi Adebowale, who is the face and the troubled protagonist of “Blade in the City”.Obasi begrudgingly follows in the footsteps of her father and the former leader of the Phantoms, Dubaku. It’s not like she had much of a choice, anyway. She was raised to be the “man” that her father expected her to be, but she was no man, and she was no heir. She wanted a life of her own, yet that choice was ripped from her the moment she was born. Following her mother’s death shortly after she had been born, Dubaku became resentful, thus raising Obasi into the reclusive, ominous animan she is today.Despite her upbringing, she’s become a better leader than her father and generations before her had been. Under Obasi’s leadership, new opportunities were brought into the city and other groups were granted freedom that had previously been held on a tight leash because of Dubaku. While the Phantoms are not lawmakers nor harbor control over Haderia, their protective presence allows for Haderia to thrive.… That is until strange disappearances begin to take place throughout the city.Month by month, animans begin the to disappear both from smaller gangs and communities. At first, it’s a cause for concern, and the Phantoms have to join forces with the second largest organization in the city, the Azure. With no leads after months of investigation, the case of these disappearances begins to fall short…While others seem to move on, Obasi is hung up on the case. She knows that there’s something deeper going on, that this isn’t just a matter of animans up and leaving the city. This is darker than even she could imagine, yet as the months continue to move on, so does everyone else. Obasi has mild support from her family, but she’s insistent on pushing them away, especially her daughter.With her skills as a surveillance hacker, Mitsue is adamant on trying to help Obasi crack the case, but Obasi is more focused on helping Mitsue carve a life of her own away from this harrowing work. Mitsue won’t budge, and neither will her brother Jericho. It takes some convincing for Noctis to come around, but once she does, it’s too late. They’re all too late.More animans have gone missing and now strange clues have been left throughout the city. As Obasi collects these clues and begins to isolate herself, she comes to the realization that these disappearances and the ones responsible for it have a more personal connection than she originally thought.As a protagonist, Obasi must overcome not only protecting her own family and group from harm, but her own dilemma, facing the reality of the situation, her past (and current) actions, and everything that she has previously endured. She must reach within herself and revisit a difficult past and make peace with it if she is to put an end to this and embrace the life she currently has. Obasi has always had one foot in the door; just barely letting herself have the life she knows she could have. Her story is about making peace with her past so that she can live in the present.
BOOK SYNOPSIS
(NOTE: This is a working synopsis. Subject to change.)After going extinct in 3101, humanity is nothing more than an echo. In the wake of man, a new race– the animans, beast-like anthropomorphic creatures– now rule a new Earth with advanced biomachinery and artificial intelligence. The year is 10089. New world governments formed in the ashes of what came before threaten life as all animans know it. In the high-tech city of Haderia, gorilla animan Obasi Adebowale leads the criminal vigilante group known as the “Phantoms”. Born from a century-old legacy, Obasi is both a parent and a revered leader attempting to juggle her familial life with her work as a crime lord.Day by day, her work and her past weighs on her. As she pulls away from the ones she loves, danger looms over Haderia.
A handful of mysterious disappearances throughout the districts catch Obasi and the Phantoms’ attention. An old rival, another gorilla named Faraji, and his cultish group rear their heads once more. Life in Haderia as they know it is threatened, animans become enthralled by Faraji’s manipulative beliefs to embrace the end days. Obasi must face herself and her past if she is to face Faraji. Her autonomy is questioned and must brave everything that she has neglected. If Obasi does not brave the face of change, then everything that she has fought for will be lost.
enter haderia city
WHERE & WHEN DOES BITC TAKE PLACE?
The year is 10089, millions of years after the extinction of humanity. Blade in the City takes place in the city of Haderia.Haderia is an immense megalopolis in a corner of the state of Kairrus. Haderia was once the capital of Kaiurrus, though after an uprising in 9986, the government was forced out of the city and settled a new capital further up north. In the midst of that uprising, the Phantoms led by an Adebowale, acted as a vigilante group that most rebels were affiliated with. The Phantoms then took control of what was left behind by governing bodies and since then has maintained economic stability in Haderia through underground activities with allied groups around and outside of Kaiurrus. To this day, Haderia continues to thrive under the eye of the Phantoms and their current leader, Obasi Adebowale, alongside their allies led by Sunila Arkaans, the Azure.
WHO IS OBASI ADEBOWALE?
Obasi is a stoic silverback with more weight on her shoulders than she’ll ever admit. As the leader of the revered Phantom organization- a vigilante group and mafia- this leaves her with the responsibility of overseeing ongoing criminal and underground activity in the city of Hadera. She has been the leader of the Phantoms for over 25 years, nearing 30 soon. This has earned her the title as the "King of Haderia", one that she seized from her father, Dubaku. She is respected by many, but not all. Obasi could care less about this, as her goal is to ultimately maintain peace within the city. She strives to provide for those in need, including the lower class and others who have been let down by the higher government. Obasi is seen as a protector of sorts because of this, as she puts a large effort into keeping military activity to a minimum in the city and ensures that resources are distributed evenly- or at least as much as possible. There is only so much that Obasi can do, but it is wise to never doubt her determination.Aside from her work as a kingpin, Obasi is a mother. She's raised three daughters. In addition, she's a maternal figure to the younger members of her syndicate, one of which she's taken under her wing. Despite being stoic and sometimes cold, Obasi is incredibly caring to her family and friends. She tries to spend as much time as she possibly can with her loved ones, and she will always make time for them if she is able. Obasi will always put her family first in dire situations, and she wants only the best for her children as well. She encourages them to seek lives outside of the criminal underground and supports them in this. Obasi herself has also sought a career far from criminal work. From a young age she had an interest in music, and this later led her to occasionally perform at adult clubs or small events under the artist name of "Amethyst Blood".Personality-wise, she is rather solitary and often appears very intimidating. This, however, does not reflect who she truly is. Obasi can't really help how imposing she is in terms of looks and tone... She is generally quiet and blunt in her speech and demeanor. Obasi is very protective over the innocent and she is determined to do whatever she can to help others and aid them in a comfortable life. As the leader of a trusted vigilante group that provides support and protection in Haderia, Obasi will do whatever it takes to maintain this peace. However, she will not indulge in violence if she doesn’t have to. Obasi prefers peaceful resolutions to settle disputes. Sometimes that is easier said than done. In truth, Obasi is a very soft and friendly animan. She prefers to be as approachable as possible and doesn't want to be percieved as someone daunting or intimidating to talk to. Obasi does the best she can to appear more welcoming to others.
WHAT ARE ANIMANS?
The animans are man-made, anthropomorphic beasts that resemble old world, twenty-first century animals. It should be noted that all that remains of the world prior to humanity’s extinction are the animans, all other ecological niches have been filled by large reptilian species (there are no animan variants of these species). Animans were originally created from a strand of artificial hominid genetics known as “base variant DNA” and the spliced genes of a multitude of mammal and reptile species, the animans resemble humans within their bodily anatomy, however, they tend to sport more animalistic features more predominately. Despite having originally been created as biological weapons the animans have since readopted human technology and society.Humanity has been extinct for over ten thousand years, leaving animans around the world to pick up where they had left off, and have since adapted more advanced technological feats than humanity ever did. This includes complex quantum computing, cyberization, advanced artificial intelligence, and even space travel. However, this has unfortunately led to an oppressive political and class divide, a folly that a now ancient humanity has seemed to pass on to their lab-made creations.SETTING
The world of Blade in the City is one that is geographically diverse, however, the story itself focuses on the megalopolis of Haderia, located in the country of Eaderix. Most of what is entailed in this information pertains to animans that live within Haderia, as I have not invested much time or focus on developing the world outside of it. I have plans to do so, but for the sake of simplicity, I don’t focus on animans outside of Haderia.However, it is safe to make the assumption that the world around them functions similarly to Haderia in terms of technological advancement and general societal structure. Ultimately Haderia stands out because of its detachment from the Unified Government that rules Eaderix and functions similarly to a pseudo-socialist society that directly opposes a destructive capitalist government purely, not through violence, but through existence.ANIMAN VARIANTS
To put it bluntly, any other animal outside of these variants DO NOT EXIST. The variants listed below are existing variants.✦ Mammalian (Most common and diverse)
✦ Reptilian (Mostly uncommon and limited to four variants and one sub-variant)
✦ Avian (Sub-variant of Reptilian)
✦ Amphibian (Very uncommon but more common in Haderia)MAMMALIAN
✦Primates
✦Ungulates (all hoofed mammals)
✦ Cetaceans (VERY RARE)
✦ Canids
✦ Felines
✦ Any mammal, honestly!REPTILLIAN
Limited to:
✦ Crocodilians
✦ Squamata
✦ Serpentes
✦ TestudinesAVIAN
Limited to:
✦ Any Aves family/species, reallyAMPHIBIAN
Limited to:
✦ Anura
✦ CaudataWHAT ARE VARIANTS AND SUB-VARIANTS?Variants function similarly to the process of selective breeding. Specific phenotypic traits from different species of animans are integrated into base variant DNA, which results in the animan variants. Base variant DNA is a stabilized strain of artificial genetic, self-replicating material derived from human stem and genetic cells. Base variant DNA made from atomic materials to stabilize base variant DNA. There are gaps in base variant thymines allowing for animal phenotypes and thymines to fill the missing gaps. New “brands” of standalone synthetic material were also developed worldwide to aid in constructing variants. Now, the animans have proved to be a marvel of humanity’s old science, becoming a self-sustaining “species”. Scientifically, animans cannot be described as a species or a breed, though many animans are content with the terminology as a “race” or “species”.Sub-variants are animans that derived from a specific phenotype of family or genus. This means that, for example, animal relatives within the same group such as, for example: crocodilians and birds, are both variants derived from the reptilian phenotype, but maintain their own unique set of synthetic material and thymine.However, due to unresolved intricacies, crossbreeding between animans, or, hybridization is difficult to near impossible. Animans with different thymine and synthetic material cannot hybridize. Base variant DNA is typically only stable with two phenotypes as well, the introduction of more than one phenotype (ex. A mammal x reptilian, or two different species of mammals) would cause intense genetic mutations. Hybrid animans do exist, but most do not live for longer than a few months. The longest recorded living hybrid was a lion-tiger hybrid that lived for three years.
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.
BLADE IN THE CITY
THE ART OF BITC
Some but certainly not all of the art I have created for BITC! I'll add more here over time.
© ALL Characters, art, concepts, and writing are protected under copyright and are original properties created by Cato Emerson / Monstatron.