#novemberchallenge

At the pilot seat was Octavia Tavish, a young FISH One. She did not follow the FISH religion anymore, but she didn’t feel like turning back into a human. She very much enjoyed being a red, piranhalike person, even if she no longer practiced diving down into the ancient altars to venerate FISH, the god of, well. Fish. She preferred to plough the skies, meeting new people, and trying medicine for her insomnia induced memory problems.

The other half of this duo was Audrey Belleville, an Alluisigator, fingers annoyedly tapping the weapon system controls. She used to be a wild flapper and a gun for hire, but after certain cosmic adventurous events best left in the past, she started to take things more seriously. She enjoyed flying around with Octavia, blasting the occasional sky pirates and spy drones, heck, they even managed to make a cantankerous wizard plummet from the sky (Who turned out to be fine of course. Wizards are sturdy). Still, preferred the moments post work: dancing, music - but not singing, as she was unfortunately, mute.

“So, do we uh, land on the mountain? It looks awfully jagged.” Octavia yelled to their passenger. She was a muscular purple creature, wearing an aviator jacket and an aviator helmet. The helmet’s goggles were replaced by aviator glasses. The creature had an eaglelike beak, which had two rigid feelers at the tip. Octavia would not have been surprised if they could swirl like propellers.

ACE had her nose pressed against the windows, looking at awe to the plains, holding a plushie dog she affectionately called Beagles. The yell roused from her reverie.

“Oh?” she scrambled forwards, and looked over the pilot’s windshields.  “Oh! Right, hm. That looks like a rough landing. Um. Maybe just, land at the mountain’s foot? I can make the rest of the trek myself.”

Audrey looked at the steep cliffs. 

I can see a trail there, she signed. But I don’t think it is a safe climb. Seems awfully steep.

ACE was a bit concerned about her pilot’s attention being divided between her copilot’s visual language and the awe inspiring, well, its less of a mountain and more of a spiny hill, but she respected a fellow pilot well enough to not judge her multitasking efficiency.

“No, no, it's okay, I will manage.” making a wild guess about what the sign language meant.

“Well. Fine by me.” said Octavia. “Prepare for landing I guess.”

The plane landed with ease. Several purple creatures trekking up the path looked at them with fascination for a few brief moments. The plane’s door opened up, and ACE jumped out, doing a little somersault.

“Thank you, brave pilots for taking me here!” she bowed and saluted at once.

I hope your journey will continue to be safe. May you continue your heroic deeds flourish. signed Audrey. ACE still didn’t speak sign language, so she just performed her bow-salute again.

Audrey and Octavia returned the salute, and then proceeded to fly back home. ACE waved after them enthusiastically. When she was certain they would be far enough, she sat on the ground. She grabbed an invisible steering wheel with one arm, gripped Beagles with the other, and began to levitate a few meters above the air, up, up the mountainside.

One of them, the smaller, more enthusiastic one, has left recently. His more reserved sister stayed behind, deciding to ensure that Granny will not be alone. These new farmhands came at the right time. Of course, they were originally here to intimidate her into a protection racket. In earlier times, Granny would have taken out her laser shotgun to deal with them herself. But the girl, Peacekeeper, convinced her to reason with them. She always had a way with words.

Ah here she comes, bringing a jug of water, and loaves of bread. She was purple, wearing a brown poncho and candy red boots. She was rather tall, and looked like some kind of spiny bird or a really thin beaked dinosaur. On her breast, she wore a red medal of some kind. Granny never asked what her species was. She just thought she was some kind of rare variant of her species, the hand turkeys (who were humanoid bird people, known for their thumblike beak, and a crest of fingerlike feather plumes).

She placed down the jugs on a table, and distributed the bread and the ragout. The newly minted farmhands were uncomfortable being around her, as the memory of her talking them out of the nonsense of forming a gang was still sore. Especially for the ones who refused her words, who got paralyzed with a single touch.

“That is alright love.” said Granny, nodding happily at her arrangement of plates. Peacemaker looked back, her eyes weary, but smiling. The farmhands set around the table, and cautiously tried out the food. It was rather good.

“It is made with a secret ingredient. Perhaps one day, you will be granted this knowledge.” said Peacemaker. Her voice was as tired as her eyes. “If Granny trusts you well enough.”

“Is the secret ingredient beans?” hazarded Handersen, who just a few days ago was a pretend knife fighter. It was all just for show, he could barely cut the weed choking the plants. Peacemaker replied with a small smile and a wink.

“Don’t worry kids, you will get what you deserve.“ cackled Granny. Granny had a checkered past, and had amassed quite the wealth. Before she met Peacemaker and her brother, Gunslinger, she kept it herself. Now she has used to help out the local village, raising schools and doctor’s offices. “Take it from me. I know how rough this world is. If you work for me, I will make sure you will get what it takes to get by.”

“She means she will pay for your education,” said Peacemaker hurriedly. Granny just winked, fully intending to teach them some dirty tricks to survive.

After dinner, Peacemaker joined the farmhands in the backbreaking work. She was a simple creature. Hard working and unassuming, until the community was threatened. She faced any and all invaders ranging from robber barons aiming to build an oilfield on the town to misguided youth looking for quick buck. With Gunslinger at her side, the two were beacons of hard work and justice. 

But then the trouble with the thunder began. Beckoning her and her brother to some distant world, for something important. The track wouldn’t be that far away, just a trip to Planet Ivory, and then through a voidship to Paluspace, Planet Palusylvania. The call was strong. And yet, deep down she was scared to leave this place. 

Her brother was more eager to leave, being more of a wanderer type. He let him go, citing that she had to protect the farm for a bit longer. Now with this group of badland urchins turned back on the correct path, she had no excuse to stay.

She was supposed to be the local Wise Sheriff, the Peacemaker. She can’t be that if she left. She knew the thunder’s call was not mandatory. She might miss the whole thing. Perhaps she could stay.

But he was no fool. Behind the door was going to be a handful of henchmen. All alert, and ready to riddle him with bullets to rival the finest cheeses. So he took out his trusty grappling hook, and threw it towards the rusty roof of the foreboding factory. It hooked onto something. Tugging the rope, Thom decided it was firm enough, and climbed up. On the roof he saw what his hook had snagged: a creepy gargoyle in the shape of a spiny bird, or perhaps, a beaked lizard. Thom tipped his hat. The gargoyle gazed grimly, no reply. The ace detective decided to move on, and pried open a hatch on the roof.

[...]

Dr Nial Nails laughed, his rubber gloves squeaking as he rubbed them together.

“Foolish fool! You have fallen right into my trap!” Thom Thumbly was standing in a pile of downed henchmen, all down for the count, thanks to his quick gunwork, and mighty fists. He snorted.

“Doctor, it seems to me that hypothesis can not be correct. I have disproven the fighting ability of all your goons, scientifically.” A faint ‘Yeah boss’ was heard from the pile of knocked out accomplices. 

“Ahaha! But I have been counting your bullets, and your punches! It stands to reason you can not fight for much longer.”

“Oh doc? You wanna fight me yourself? Ain’t nobody besides you and me here.”

“Ahha! That is where you are wrong! Ain’t nobody else here… yet!” Behind the doctor, several vats of chemicals began to glow and froth. And in a few moments, several new goons emerged. Some short, some tall, all eager to beat up the intruder.

“GO! My homegrown henches!!!”

[...]

Thumbly stood victorious, the henchmen melting away around him. The contents of the vats were all ruined, emitting a tart smell, bubbling and frothing horribly.

“No! How did you know that cider was my cloning compound's one secret weakness!”

“Heh. Well, I just realized, the best way to fight homegrown is with your own homegrown. And what other homegrown to use than this tart cider? Your foul mixture was overpowered by my sweet and fruit brew. Especially due to the secret ingredient.”

“And what might that be?”

“Well. Just a bit of… PUNCH!” he yelled, and hit the mad scientist squarely in the face.

Humanity, as you all hopefully know, originated from Planet Exile. In ancient times, due to a badly calibrated magical experiment, a vast number of people have been, ahem, exiled to other worlds. One of those is our beloved Planet Blood… or as it used to have been called, Planet Hope, which is a much better name and does not contain pointlessly wistful punctuation. But I digress.

Perhaps this magical catastrophe is the reason humanity is so prone to being cursed by spirits or mutated by eerie energies (for further theories down this path, read Strange Magnetism by Glossomer et al). Perhaps this trait was always present in humanity. This is how the first wizards came to be, and unfortunately, probably this was what attracted the elves to our world.

The elves consigned several of our city states to a blood soaked pocket dimension, and kidnapped several more. For what end, there is no consensus. Some propose it was just common cruelty. Others say our magical affinity made us great test subjects. I think the latter idea is more valid.

But how did the kidnapped humanity survive and thrive so much that they could fill up two pocket dimensions on Dawneve, while also sustaining stable colonies on Palusylvania? The answer is deceptively simple: thanks to our nature, humanity was easily cloned by whatever technology was available to elves!

I have actual textual evidence for it. Ancient elven tablets, rescued from some flea markets by myself have been painstakingly translated by our elvelinguistic colleagues, with my help, of course. It looks like the tablets are a series of complaints about a facility that was built to duplicate humans for a great experiment. The complaints mainly pertain to the old warden, and the author talks about how they would have done a much better job.

The complaint also describes various ugly mountains in the distance (the author’s words, not mine), which allowed us to look up geological surveys, adjust for erosion, and calculate the exact spot: a patch of land in the Dry West, southeast from the so-called “Thundermountains”.

So, if you are a student here, and you have a keen eye to detail like this ancient elf, please consider joining my expedition! It counts for your mandatory field study time, and if successful, I will award you bonus credits!

On the third day, he had a tinge of despair, as he checked out his rapidly depleting bean reverses. He might have to resort towards jerky if nothing turns up. His food related thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of thunder. No, that wasn’t it. It was the rumble of a speeding van. Gleefully he stood out, and waved with great enthusiasm.

The van rolled past him, but it suddenly braked with a screech. It backed up a bit, and a window rolled down. A purple head looked out, with a much sharper and curved beak, and less friendly eyes like dagger. Her feelers were short and bent like claws.

“Oh hey. Look who is here.“ she squawked.

“Who is, who is?” a nervous voice was heard from the vehicle, and an anxious fear weasel looked over her shoulder. His fur was white, and his hair was elegantly combed green.

The other one sighed, and vanished under the window. The door opened up, and Gunslinger could see inside the Van. The weasel at the steering wheel had attempted to give off the air of an elegant academic, but only managed to look like a student before an exam. On the shotgun seat was the sharp woman. She seems to have been a bit smaller than Gunslinger, and she was wearing an elegant black and white dress. She was holding a cigarette holder, but it had no cigarette in it. Instead, it held a tiny scythe.

“Well. This is the Expert Arthur Wolverman. He doesn’t have an official academic title, but I guess he deserves one.” she said, pointing at the weasel, who gave up an excited “Hallo”.

“I am Fatale. It is officially Femme Fatale but I only use the second one. Much sharper and on the point. And you are?“ She took a drag on the end of the cigarette holder.

Gunslinger held up a finger as usual, and handed over another copy of his business cards. Fatale looked it over, and passed it along to the reverent Wolverman, who put it in a scrapbook, and scribbled a note on it.

“Well, fancy that. A true Gunslinger. Well. Hop in. Maybe after meeting you we will finally stop going in circles and get to… wherever the thunder is calling. Do you have any idea?”

Gunslinger shrugged.

“Well. That is okay. We have an Expedition Leader for it. Maybe he’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

“Wow! To be here at this age, being the first person to be sneered at since ancient times!” The aforementioned Expedition Leader guffawed. He was tall, and dressed just like Doctor Pentacles, except he wore two monocles, and seemed jollier. His feelers were curled back, imitating mutton chops.

“Don’t mind her cousin! We are both in for a ride! The ride into the unknown! Which is much better than the ride into the known! Come, take a seat.“

Gunslinger looked inside the van. The Leader was sitting on a couch affixed to the floor of the van. There were several computers and other dubious equipment inside, all covered in stickers of unknown creatures and comic book style weaselfolk. Well. Not as rigorous as the habitat trucks, but will do! He enthusiastically hopped in with his luggage, and closed the door behind him.

“Alright Artie. I think I heard the thunder from that direction. Be a smart weasel, and pedal to the metal.“

The van turned around, facing the setting sun. On its back, an airbrushed tentacle creature was visible, along with an “HONK IF YOU LIKE ELDER GODS” sign. The van began to move, speeding towards a mountain in the distance. 

“Do not worry my friend. I am the same Grisha as always. Just having a passenger is all.”

Charmed to meet you, Miss Solaria. You have quite the well oiled operation here.

“Okay. Thanks?” Solaria blinked.

“Its just a faint remnant of a god of narration. Nothing biggie.“ Even tried to jest, without much success.

I resent that description, but I have to suppose that I agree, it is true.

“So!” said Solaria, returning to her usual cheerful self, but with a hint of fright still in her voice. “Time for a rest then! And of course, movie times! ”

Later that night, Solaria and Even went to talk business. Apparently old Doctor Pentacles wanted to cancel the entire follow up dig, citing that it would not help out his hypothesis. His students were dismayed, and performed a small academic mutiny. In the end, the old professor relented, and planned for a much smaller, less thorough dig. This would mean Solaria’s crew would have to stockpile less fuel and food, as the follow up expedition would be much smaller than they planned it to be.

“Would be good news, but unfortunately, we have already made the fuel. But, I suppose, we can always sell the surplus. You won’t believe how many people crossed through our base as it was a just a roadside diner“

“Well. You did make it look like a roadside diner.”

“Hah. Well, it’s what little fun we can have out there. I’ll be honest, we all thought this would be more exciting for my petrol clan.”

“Wait a second, let's rewind a bit. You said people visited here? Who? Others from the network?”

“Oh yeah. Some were the usual couriers like Charlie, Thomrys. At one point, Mudskip Air landed here. Some confused wanderers I have never met before also swung by. And they all had one of those funny purple dinosaurs. Speaking of which, where did you leave your friend? Gunslinger if I recall?”

“He left. Continued his journey.“

So many of them. I wonder how many Spawn will arrive here. Maybe a few dozen.

“Do you know where he is going?”

The Thousand Thunderfisted Tales was an extremely capricious creature. Hard to divine why its fragments would gather, and why here of all places.

“Well. If they ever need help, I’ll be ready.” said Even.

Past the realms patrolled by enlarged frogs and leeches, past the never ending feast and festivals of the Blood Sirens, we find the ruins of the grand city of Elver. Its many skyscrapers are either empty, wrecked, toppled over. With the weather of the centuries, one can see they were mainly empty frames, as the elves lived solely in the penthouses. There is only peace and bird song.

Ruins of several elf gates can be found all over the town. In their heyday, they were large enough to transport the entire population of kidnapped towns in a timely fashion. Now, they were just rubble, thankfully never to activate again. However, one small elf gate, hidden in the basement of an unassuming minor tower, is still online.

This one leads to the pocket dimension of Elverest, the place where the elves went. And now, for the first time in ages, an elf came through it. He was the prime specimen of the Left Elves. One right arm tucked behind his back, hidden under a shawl. The other two left arms were each carrying two colourful cocktails.

And the elf was shaking with rage. He was told that an alarm triggered. The god he was supposed to be guarding got out of jail. Ugh! He hated this. He was promoted to be the new Warden of that place just hours before the unfortunate disaster. He had plans on how to repurpose that uncooperative god! He never got to see his office either! The previous warden said she left a giftbox for him. He bet they stole that too!

He went to the surface of the ruined streets, and lifted his hand for a hover taxi to come. Sure the city has exploded, but surely the taxi constructs might be still around. Well. They better come soon, he has already run out of drinks. He annoyedly tapped his feet. It has been an entire minute!

While some taxi constructs did survive, they weren’t really keen on meeting up with the elf. They never tipped. But time was ticking. Sooner or later, either the cars would give up, and offer a ride to the elf. It might just take a few days.

She was still in a sore mood. They managed to waste good intel, yes, but surely it was not their fault. It was that darn expedition turning out of nowhere. No, more specifically it was the fault of the purple dinosaur with the guns. Guns he didn’t even know how to use properly! No, it was the fault of their source, they didn’t provide them the door code! No, it was the fault of…

They knew the higher ups would not accept their excuses. Yet they could not admit defeat. They will find a different god. Or perhaps a great weapon. She has sacrificed so much for this. She has given up on tenure to be able to fully focus on the righteous cause of a simpler, flatter, more equal and understandable world.

Tulip was sitting on her bed in silence. She was holding out a mirror, and was carefully aiming an eyedropper full of plant nutriment at the tulip she planted on the top of her head. 

She was also pondering about the cause. She was enthusiastic about making a difference, but deep down, she began to question if this was worth it. She even started to question if it even made sense? She only joined because Rose was really into it. Maybe they could instead, volunteer at a soup kitchen or form a community college back home? Nah, that sounds like effort. But retrieving ancient gods is actually more effort, come to think of it…