#heryl

Oh, how I’ve missed my boys!

Yes! I have refs for Klango and Heryl, though they are a bit outdated, and an image of Kleff that shows off his colours and patterns quite well. They’re really due for a new ref soon!

It took me so long to dig up these refs, I’m so glad I managed to find em 😅💖

As promised, here’s part 2! I have more to say at the end. . . But, for now, I hope you enjoy! 💖

~~~

Once Klango emerged from the Hall, the horizon was already lit with a tinge of pale sunlight, so he gave up on getting some rest and sat in the sand beside the crack to watch the sunrise. Soon enough though, as he rested, his exhaustion caught up to him. Heryl found him passed out in the sand, and took him to a shady, shallow cave so that he might rest without being burnt by the hot sun.

Klango awoke much later, in the middle of the day. He stretched and yawned, glanced around, and then remembered where he was. Jumping to his feet, he made his way energetically out of the cave to find his new friend.

It didn’t take Klango long to track the ape down; he found Heryl beside a pond, gazing deep and long into the water.

“Whatcha doing?”

Heryl jumped, not having seen the yellow guy approach. “Hey! You can’t just scare me like that!”

Klango sat down by his side, tucking his legs up neatly. “But whatcha doing?”

“Shh.”

Heryl went back to watching the water, so Klango stayed where he was, unmoving. They stayed there, motionless, for two whole hours, before Heryl made a sharp, swift motion and plucked a fish right out of the water! Now it was Klango’s turn to jump - he had been daydreaming about his chunk, and the vine ontop it, and had not been paying much attention.

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Huh?”

“Earlier. You asked me what I was doing.”

“Oh.” Klango looked down at the ground, feeling his face glow warm with embarrassment. “I forgot.”

~~~

Soon enough, the two were inseparable. Klango would follow Heryl around as the ape performed his daily tasks, helping wherever he could. Heryl, in turn, taught the hoop-head everything he knew about Proto-Skullmonkey culture and the history of Guhrli and the other worlds of Creation.

Klango found all the worlds fascinating, but he was drawn in particular to the story of Ottoborg and his seven sons. Heryl would often joke about Klango being the lost eighth son of Ottoborg - he did, after all, have the hoop on his head, and spikes on his back, which were said to be defining features of the sons of the fourth king. They always brushed it off as a joke between friends.

But, some late nights, Klango would sit awake, in the cave he had made his home, and he would let himself think (but only for a little bit) that perhaps he was Ottoborg’s son.

He started to grow quiet - most days, he would prefer to sit on a rock, up on a small cliff that he would climb to, and watch the beings on the world below going about their day. Heryl was worried, for he barely saw his weird little friend anymore.

Klango was sitting in his usual space, quietly thinking, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped about a mile, nearly toppling off the cliff, before he was yanked backwards, falling into the soft lap of his friend. Heryl chuckled. “Whatcha doing?”

Klango smiled fondly as he sat up, recalling their first casual encounter, but the smile was brief. He turned back around to gaze out at the horizon.

“Just. . . thinking.”

“About?”

Klango shrugged. “About. . . where I belong? Who I belong to? Stuff like that. . . I don’t know.” He sighed quietly, leaning back against Heryl.

“You belong here?” Heryl said, half-asking it. “Or. . . Do you not want to belong here?”

Once again, Klango just shrugged. “I dunno how to put it.”

“. . . You could belong to me,” Heryl murmured the suggestion, responding to the second question.

“That would be nice.”

They sat up there until the sun was low in the sky.

It started to become a routine, of sorts. Once Heryl was finished with his chores for the day, he would climb up the cliff and sit with Klango until the sun was setting.

But one fateful day, disaster struck.

~~~

Klango came to, and, finding himself face-down on the ground, shakily pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. His memory was blurred, but he could faintly recall falling from a great height. His head was spinning and his vision blurry, and his body ached all over - but he managed to shuffle over to another body nearby. Heryl.

The Proto-Skullmonkey was on his back, oddly still, strangely so. And, when Klango put a hand on his chest, Heryl wasn’t breathing.

“H. . Heryl?” Klango mumbled, then tried again, louder. “Heryl? Friend?”

He expected, no, hoped to see his friend sit up. To smile at him, to tell him to stop being a moron. But nothing happened. He grabbed Heryl by the shoulders, shaking him gently. “C-C’mon. . .”

Time became blurry. He could only recall bits and pieces. His face was pressed into Heryl’s fur, and then others were pulling him off of the ape while he screamed and struggled. He was being pulled away by another friend, Bern, who was leading him to the Healer, and he felt numb, and hot tears were dripping down his face. He was shaking as he sat, then was laid down, and the last thing he saw was his closest friend in all of Creation being laid down beside him.

So crushingly still.

~~~

Klango woke up much later, alone. Sitting up, he realised he was in the tent that belonged to the tribe’s healer, Mleng. For a moment, he was confused - but then it all came rushing back to him. The fall, the pain. . . Heryl.

He stood up quickly, but quickly regretted this action, as all the blood rushed to his head and bruises from the fall began to ache. He sat again, leaning against the wall and hugged himself, lowering his head as he felt tears start to come on.

He cried until he was tired enough to fall asleep again.

When he woke up again, it was late, at a time when all the other inhabitants would be sleeping. Someone had thoughtfully covered Klango with a blanket. He sat up. . . and noticed a small, pale square of fabric at the foot of his bed.

He picked the scrap up, and, realising what it was, held it tight against his chest, doubled over with dry sobs.

It was Heryl’s bandana, the one he’d never, ever taken off, not in all of the time he’d known Klango.

~~~

It was a month gone by since the fall, and nothing was the same to Klango without his Heryl by his side.

When the planet Wx came close to Guhrli and the Harvest of the Wx began, Klango bid goodbye to the world he had called home for so long, and climbed onto the new world. On his first night on Wx, he gazed down at Guhrli, now far below him. He tied Heryl’s bandana around his own neck.

“I won’t forget you.”

~~~

I know, it’s getting a little drastic now!

I recall moments when I first showed off version 1 of Klango’s story. People loved Heryl so much - and don’t worry, I love him too! I promise you, things get better in the conclusion. Stay tuned for that 💖💖💖

I hope you enjoyed!

Part One here.

Part Three here.

Part Four here.

I said I’d upload it, so here I am <3 This is the second version of Klango’s Origin - meaning I’ve written it once, and rewritten it. I wanted to polish the final product up before posting it all, to make sure the writing comes off as smooth - while also trying to keep the feeling of it being an entry in the Hall! (Though I think that sense may have been lost a little down the line. . .) So here is the first part of the story - I’ll be linking all the parts together to make it cohesive! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. . . But perhaps I’m biased. O-8^P ~~~ There once was a world that fell apart. Like many pieces of the world, one small chunk of land carrying one small plant drifted away into the cosmos, never to be part of a whole again. It kept travelling, on and on.  As it drifted, it passed by many suns, and through many clouds of dust and water. Slowly and slowly, the plant grew and grew, until finally it sprouted a bulb, which blossomed into a pale blue lily. Eventually, coming to the end of its life without pollination, the flower withered and died - but not before it dropped a single seed. 

Years passed by, and time and dust eventually buried the seed. But one fine, fateful day, when the land passed by a particularly warm cloud of gas, the ground stirred. There was a ripple, then two, before the earth spat out a sleeping being. 

Quater had seen the plant struggle to grow and reproduce, and took pity; using his powers of creation, he breathed life into the seed. And so, new life was born from the old. 

The being dozed for a while longer, before coming to his senses and finding himself alone. But that fact hardly mattered, for the view of creation before the being was so stunningly beautiful that he found himself frozen to the spot at the sight. 

After five sleepless, motionless weeks had passed, the being sluggishly lifted his hand to gaze at it. He spent his first few, truly sentient moments inspecting himself, marvelling at the bright, happy colours that pigmented his body. He tugged at the loop on his head, he pressed and turned the three buttons on his chest, he reached a clumsy hand behind himself to gently tip the sharp spikes that stuck out of his back. And, after a while, he stood, and took his first few steps, pacing around the perimeter of the tiny chunk of land that gave him life. Sitting down in the middle of his land, the being considered his surroundings, and himself. 

“It’s awfully lonely out here.” 

For a moment he was surprised - until he realised the words came from his own mouth. 

“If this is me, and I am here, then are there others out there, too?” He wondered to himself, sinking into another round of thought. “And who am I?”He pondered for another few moments, humming to himself. His humming turned to noises, syllables that could be considered pieces of words, as he tried to find a name to call himself by. 

“Keh. . . Ken. . . Kl. . . Kla - Klan? Klahh. . . Klang?” He grinned to himself. “Yes - Klang! Klang is my name-“ Excited, and still learning control of his limbs, he sprang to his feet and began to jump for joy. “Klang! Klaaaang! Klaang-oooah!” He tripped over the plant, now a stumpy, dormant vine, landing flat on his face. 

Giggling to himself, he sat back up. “Ooh! That’s even better; Klango! I shall call myself Klango.” 

For a long while, Klango journeyed happily along, content with wherever the land took him. He would peer over the edge at the many worlds below him, and gaze upward at the lands that floated high above. Often, in his first few weeks of world-watching, he would shout and call out to the lands, but no reply ever reached him. Eventually, he resorted to just watching, and was happy with that.

Yet, he became bored with this life eventually. He wanted other beings to talk with, to run with, to play with. So one day, when his chunk of land sailed particularly low along the surface of a world, he bid goodbye to his birthplace and leaped off onto the dusty ground below.

He found himself on the surface of a dry desert planet, the sand swirling in deep tones of purple and grey. The sky was dark and the air cold, so he took shelter beneath a rocky overhang and slept curled under it for the night.

~~~ 

When Klango awoke the next morning, he was surrounded by the first beings he had ever seen, aside from himself. 

The beings had shaggy, ragged pelts that seemed to be balding, as if clumps of their fur had fallen out, and the colour of their fur was a patchwork mixture of greys, browns and sandy tones. They had short, stout legs, with broad upper bodies, and their heads were ominous skulls with unseeing, black eye sockets. And yet, Klango had an unsettling feeling that they could, in fact, see him.

After an uncomfortable hour or so of the waiting game, in which Klango sat and stared at the apes and the apes stared patiently back, the beings slowly turned and walked away, each in turn. They would occasionally stop and peek over their shoulders at Klango, as if to assure that he wasn't a threat, but as the day went on and the hoop-head made no attempt to hurt them, the creatures became more at ease.

Klango observed them going about their daily chores, making bread from some sort of strange powder, creating tools out of sticks and stones, and occasionally playing around with each other.

He didn't speak; only watched, as he was not sure if the beings even spoke the same way he did, or if they spoke at all.

But as night fell, the yellow fellow witnessed a most peculiar thing - each of the creatures stepped into shallow holes, that Klango had noticed in passing earlier in the day, and buried themselves up to their necks! He could hardly believe his eyes. What strange behaviour! Though, he thought to himself, who was he to judge other beings for their own behaviour? He’d never known anything apart from his own chunk of land. And in any case, today was certainly a day of firsts. . . So why not? Swiftly, he dug his own hole and buried himself up to the neck, just as the others had. Surprisingly, he found the soft sand to be quite comfortable, and soon drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up the next day, he found that he had slept in again. One of the native creatures of the land was poking the hoop on his head. "Hey, new guy? Hello? You awake?"Klango jumped with surprise, scrambling to escape the loose dirt that surrounded him. "Oh!- Yes, yes I am. Sorry."

The being shook his head patiently. "No need for apologies. I am Heryl." Heryl held out a. . . Hand? Paw? To help Klango up, which the hoop-head took gratefully. He took in the sight of the other, his sandy brown fur, the creamy-coloured bandana tied around his neck.

"Me Klango," he gestured towards himself. "What is this land? And - pardon me asking - What are you? And-" He babbled on, until the ever-patient Heryl held up a hand for his silence.

"This world is named Guhrli, and our race is known as the Proto-Skullmonkeys. We were created by Arven, seventh son of-"

"Who is Arven?" Klango queried, interrupting his new friend’s explanation.

Heryl seemed taken aback."U-uh, well, Arven is the seventh son of Quater. Surely you know of Quater?"Klango shook his head.

After a brief pause, the Proto-Skull grabbed Klango by the hand, leading him to a rock wall as he mumbled incredulously under his breath.

They stopped in front of a crack in the wall, which Heryl squeezed through. The hoop-head was a little hesitant to enter, but forced himself to follow nonetheless.

After a few minutes of squeezing, the crack opened up into a large, spacious hall. Text filled up one of the walls, and from what Klango could see, it stretched on forever. “What. . . Is this place?” Klango murmured, slightly unwilling to break the seemingly reverent silence that filled the echoey hall.

“This is the Hall of Records. There’s one on every single world that has ever been conceived by a son of Quater. Any being seeking knowledge comes to their Wall to learn, and. . . I think it’s your turn now.” 

"Read. This?" Were the only words the poor hoop-head could manage. Heryl chuckled at the other’s hesitation. "It's not as long as it looks, friend." He explained. "You could probably finish reading it within the day."

Klango gulped, then nodded, albeit a little reluctantly. Heryl dipped his head, turning to leave so that the yellow being could read in peace.

It certainly took Klango a day - and a little into the night. Once the daylight faded, small bugs began to light up in the hall, until the whole passage was aglow with pale golden light. ~~~ Thank you for reading! Be sure to check out the other parts:

Part Two here.

Part Three here.

Part Four here.

A few more paper doodles to-day 💛💛

First up is my beloved boyfriend in klay like me! He was kind enough to indulge in my hyperfixation and watch me play for nearly three hours a week or so ago. I’m lucky to have such wonderful partners who are so patient with me 💛💛

Secondly, just a little Heryl fishing for his lunch. :]

The moment we’ve all been waiting for!

I’m sure you’re waiting to get to the actual writing, so I’ll keep it short. 💖

I hope you all enjoy this finale!

~~~

Hoborg sat in the throne room, contemplating the thoughts that swirled like clouds in his brick-shaped head.

Mainly about his world and his children. . . But one thought stuck out like a sore thumb. Worry.

He was worried for the new(ish) addition to the Neverhood family, Klango. Three months or so had passed since the son of Ottoborg had arrived on the land, and he seemed to have had a wonderful time at first - yet, he had been seen less and less often over the past few weeks.

The last Hoborg had heard, Klang was in the Hall of Records, which seemed to be where he always was nowadays. The other Neverhoodians had been complaining about him blocking the corridor, while they tried to read their favourite stories.

So, prising himself out of his seat, the king set off to find Klango.

~~~

Hoborg pulled the doorway of the shrinky door up with one hand, peering inside.

Indeed, in the near distance, he could see the yellow hoop-head, tucked up against the wall of the long, echoey tunnel.

Stepping in quietly, he made his way down the hall until he reached Klango, sliding down the wall to sit beside him.

"Hey there, friend." Hoborg greeted him in a soft, gentle tone.

When Klango only gave a slight wave in response, not taking his eyes off the wall in front of him, Hoborg turned his gaze to the image Klango was looking at, continuing to quietly speak to him.

"Haven't seen you in awhile. Are you doing alright?"

"I miss him.”

Klango pointed a shaky finger at the image on the wall. It was a picture of himself, and someone Hoborg didn't know - some sort of Skullmonkey, by the looks of him - looking entirely happy in each other's company. When the king looked back at the real Klango, silent tears were streaming down his face.

Hoborg embraced his adopted son.

~~~

Klango was asleep in his room (Hoborg had convinced him to go and finally get some rest) when someone shook him by the shoulder, gently encouraging him to wake up.

Cracking one eye open, Klango sat up immediately, as the one who woke him was his brother, Willie Trombone. The other hoop-head gave him a happy grin.

"Morning, little brother! Happy birthday!"

Klango cocked his head, the hoop on top of his head wobbling slightly as he did so. "Huh? It's not my birthday today. . ."

Willie shrugged. "Early birthday. . . Ehm. . . Anyway! Hoborg have big gift for youuuu!" He perked right up, pulling Klang out of bed and skipping over and out the window, hopping into the Lake Car.

Klango followed, a contagious smile that he caught from his overly happy brother curving his tired lips. He hadn't smiled in a while. . . It felt good.

~~~

Klango frowned slightly, turning back around to face the pair of his friends. Both Willie and Kleff stood side-by-side, grinning like idiots - a certain air of cheekiness tainted Kleff’s expression.

"You're sure he said here?"

Willie nodded.

"As in, here, here?"

"Hear, hear!" Someone shouted from nearby.

"Hear what?" Came a reply, not too far away.

Turning back around, Klango gazed up at the spiky tree. Truly, with all those flowers, plants and vines on it, it was a glorious sight. Not the one he was looking for, though.

He spotted that one being led out from the Nursery by Hoborg.

A familiar, fluffy, bandana-wearing sight. . .

Looking back, Klango isn't quite sure what happened next - all he knows is that, suddenly, he was in Heryl's arms, and he never wanted to let go of him again.

"Did you miss me?"

Klango half-laughed, half-sobbed into the Skullmonkey's fur, clutching him as if, if he let go, Heryl would fade away into nothing again. "Shush- shut up."

"Of course I missed you."

End.

~~~

Thank you all for sticking it out to read Klango’s story! I’m so glad he’s been well received 💖💖

I’m hoping to start re-writing another few older Neverhood writings I’ve done, so look out for those shortly!

In the meantime, I have a sort of pseudo-sequel to this story - just a short scene in which Heryl comforts Klango after a nightmare. Would anyone be interested in seeing that?

In any case, thank you so much again for coming along on this ride. 💖💖💖

Part One here.

Part Two here.

Part Three here.