The World's Calling

Massacres are bound to happen. One on this scale however is unprecedented. An entire town gone to some sort of ritualistic murder. Nothing was taken except lives and the ominous glow of an empty town. No noise to pre-empt the silence. For our band of soon-to-be adventurers, there was nothing to do except return to their various bases of operations and report back what had taken place. Collections of the 60 went off to report what had happened to their respective patrons and representatives while a few stayed in town to repress the memories. As the ones to lead the journey, the Hickshaw, the first to receive the news, was the mayor of Reseano.

Mykola Sirko

Reseano was the defining point of the Human Sphere of Influence. Around the center point of the Human Race’s crash. It had stood for decades as the pinnacle of human perseverance in the face of adversity. In the face of sicknesses unknown and beasts unidentified, it had been the Sirko family to keep everything together. Mathias Sirko who led and oversaw the ramshackle dwellings that would only provide momentary relief from the elements. Sasha Sirko, who established contact with the Animalia over yonder when the crop yield became low and they were on the brink of Starvation. Elias Sirko, Artyom Sirko, and now Mykola Sirko. While Mayor was the official title, he was more or less Governor. All the other cities were under his eye and his hand. This was not some boast, it was a list of responsibilities that he had to take care of. With the news that came out of Diamo’s mouth, each syllable adding to his surplus of stress, he could only respond calmly.

“Fuck.” said the Mayor calmly.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!”

Each expletive was underlined with a slam of a fist on his mahogany desk; a family heirloom that was currently taking the brunt of his anger. Of course, such a display of careless emotion was after Diamo had left. Appearances and such had to be taken into mind when dealing with the public. Currently, the only one in the room with them at that time was a runner friend by the name of Sig Cassidy. Sitting down in an office chair nearby. Dressed in rough attire with eyes made for staring and an outfit that was made to be thrown around and go unwashed, he was dreadfully underdressed for such news. After staring down at his 10-gallon hat, Cassidy was the one to break the silence.

“And there’s nothin else?.”

Sirko turned his back to the man as he made effort to repress his feelings on the news.“ Nothing! Hickshaw was a population of 2000. 2000 people are fucking gone! No tracks, no hints, no nothin?! Just a pile of meat strung up inside the mine! There are family members of the deceased here, we can’t just tell them that little Sascha was strung up by his intestines hundreds of feet underground! You can’t just say that to people! They get antsy, start assuming false truths as real truths.”

“Ok. Look, it's shit. On the plus side, we can most likely resell the place. See if we can get some Runners to station there till we can flip the houses.”

Sirko stared at Cassidy coldly. “That is not our first objective. “

While a small bit of bother found itself on the Sepia skin of Cassidy, he continued on with his line of thought. “Unfortunately, it's the one that we have to deal with and fast. Loose lips are already starting ships and the real estate people are sending letters “inferring” about any new land opportunities. I reckon that one of those new guards has already been finding out the price of information. Been tryin' to keep the more aggressive ones off your doorstep but I won’t be able to hold them off forever, especially once it hits the families of the deceased.”

“Vultures. Is Highburn still available?”

“Marsha went round to the Mirepod Sphere recently, so she won’t be mentally there for a bit.”

“ Johnny Gigas?”

“I think he’s Johnny Nitro now, and last I heard he was doing flippy stuff down south.”

“Fine! His name, what was it, uhh Salaman! Is Salam available?”

The cowboy checked the list.

“The Badger? Yeah, he should. Should be returning from Malwit with those horses.”

A small smile graced the face of the Mayor. “Once he hits the border, track him down, tell him to get his friends, and do what needs to be done. “

As Sig went on his way to correspond with the badger, Mykola slunk back down in his chair and looked out over his city, of the houses held together by will and wood. The children walking to the local schoolhouse. A house that would be missing pupils. A house with a faulty roof and a fence that needed fixing. So many things needed fixing. The visions of shortfall discussions from Hickshaw already haunted his mind. As he pulled open his top drawer and opened the hidden latch on the bottom, he got out a bottle of whiskey and began to drink.

Everdone

The Metro was a shining jewel of civilization. The closest any of the races could get to reclaiming their former glory. Paved streets, Skyscrapers over terraformed land masses. The grounds were paved, and robots of the city found themselves on the moving walkways to perambulate from building to building. Built next to each other, each house connected to each other through the corridors and locked off by steel-made doors. Magnetic sidings to each of the buildings allowed units with similar magnetic faculties to use machines to wipe down and clean the buildings. Of each physical worker, there was a working body and the day-to-day body. Work bodies were simplistic machines made for a singular purpose. To clean, to lift, to build, and destroy. The common bodies could find themselves walking the world for years and months with energy cells made for endurance and not stress. At the current moment, one of those common bodies was addressing a more secretarial work body. Everdone-23 extended his multiple arms in a variety of tasks and approvals while his main head looked at Catalyst- 2.

“Has the information come in regarding the interviews at Waning Rock?”

“Interviews were conducted to fill up numbers in terms of the deficit, the necessary items for our services arrived two days ago.”

“Information from sent units?”

“Mostly a mixture of Animalia and Humans. The only outlier in terms of introductions were 2 Mechanoids and the Experiments Unit.”

“From before the Transfer?”

“No, around 5 months out. During [Redacted] Operation [5.3].

“5.3… Reality Malleability?”

“Confirmed.”

“Who do we have near the unit?”

“Surveil and Combat unit, designation Fallacy-108”

“Long line of Software, without a merger. Especially in these times. Keep them near the Unit and ensure that nothing comes of it. Something like that would have been called in for Reassignment. Ensure that the steel on them isn’t too damaged before we can properly integrate them.”

“Information from Hickshaw reveals that a mass of life forms were found to be exterminated.”

“Send the requisite flowers, thoughts, then send out feelers for the land price.”

Animalia Clan

The Hills and Valley of Redfall were scattered with their signature scarlet flowers. Long Stalks covered the wide open spaces as their flowers reached toward the sun. Redfall was a grand area only navigable by those with the senses to identify each and every pitfall and turnabout. A land plentiful in resources but the residents spread out into concentrated clusters, each trying to avoid the other. Only one meeting place was set aside officially as neutral territory. Deep within the trees and forestation was a set of furniture made of stone and moss. Handly carved by some of the more flexible of the animalia, those who sat within these chairs were the ones to lead the people. 8 chairs, others to be built in the future, but for now, 8 sat at this meeting.

Ivy the Tortoise

Starlas the Cougar

Masith the False Dragon

Orlando the Fox

Rodan the Bear

Slip the Otter

Ferron the Rabbit

And Sera the Chipmunk

At the head of this meeting of the beast was Ivy herself. Her grip on her chair nearly broke through the stone as the chipmunk recounted the news.

“No bodies could be properly recovered. The burials will be scarce. A group mourning has already been arranged.”

“Deras, Urgan, Sixclaw, Rummage, Clash, Lattimo, Mattimo.” Ivy heard the names rattled off by the Cougar on her left. Each one pointed not only at her heart but her credibility.

“Enough Starlas.”

On her right, the false dragon spoke.

“The Human leader sends his apologies. The machines send their own. It was the boy. Hartland who came personally. Met with all the families. ”

“ Marcel, his brother Barthel.”

Each name a slash at her. The stone and moss started to crumble under her grip. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his sly eye of his directed at her. The tone of the names under his breath was a mix of compassion and exploitation. Starlas was as affected as any of them but she knew his ultimate goal. It sickened her.

“Enough.”

“Simo and Kalia as well. Such a shame.”

“I said enough!”

Ivy reclined in her chair. The outburst left the others taken unaware but they were not surprised. A beat of silence passed before Ivy spoke again.

“I know them, I know. We will find out who did this. And they will be brought to justice.”

“Feh.” The cougar scowled at his superior. “I am sure you will lead. The strength of the whole relies on the individual. But one individual cannot be everywhere.”

The ache and exhaustion in Ivy’s voice were apparent as she addressed the opposition. “Are you bringing this up now? After all this? Would you use this atrocity to further your goals in something unrelated?”

“ For too long you have spent your time wasting away to place nice to the Union demands. You hold a monopoly of power over the rest and in full honesty and full respect for your position, this tragedy is an extension of your inflexibility. You have to consider this as another stroke against you. We have allowed ourselves to restrict our travel and for what? The respect of those who could not defend us? They place caps on us to limit our integration. They seek to keep us weak and divided and you play into their hands. All for this individualism that you are the one to lead us into the Bright Night like you were Lassa. This is not the way and you must understand that. To placate the damned metals that encroach on our borders and tempt our people with falsities?! This blood stains your soul as much as any criminal!”

In the next moment, Starlas found himself on his back. In the sun stood Ivy with blood on the back of her claws. The others of the roundtable stood shocked. The Cougar stared deeply into her eyes and Ivy into his. He had won. And she knew it.

Waning Rock

The room was empty. Vig’s sword lay on the ground. Vig lay on the ground. A dull feeling found itself weighing on his mind. The dullness turned into heat. Of the screams of the innocent far away. Inability. Constant inability. Years he had been doing this. Years. They called him a hero. He couldn’t save them. They were under his watch. He couldn’t help them. He could barely stomach the cleanup. Why? The heat became cold. A cold feeling pierced his head. Vig stared at his sword. Years in his hands. Years in action. He had reached his peak. He had done what he could and now… now he was starting to decline. Age was starting to hit. Magic’s Willpower cannot deny death forever. Why did he deny it? For ineffectual help in a world that didn’t get better. He knew his own body. He had put in the work. It was only going to get worse. It always got worse. Always. Always. Always.

Vida.

Always.

He hid.

Always.

He lost.

Always.

He could be done. This wasn’t worth it. This stopped being worth it. They egged him on. A limp pack mule desperately trying to ignore the creaking and breaking of his bones. There were better people. The door creaked open. The wind hit his face. His hair covered his eyes. He moved them out of the way.

Not yet. Not until he is done.

Vig picked up his sword. It was heavy.

“Always ready. Always willing.”