#tuskan

‘Ionik, Tuskan & Dorik’ stools by Oeuffice.

essential form + classical architecture + primordial stones

Kotobukiya Star Wars: A New Hope: Tusken Raider (Barbaric Desert Tribe Version) ARTFX Artist Series Statue.  

I.HAVE.BEEN.WAITING.FOR.THIS.CHAPTER.FOR.SO.FREAKIN’.LONG.  LIKE. YOU GUYS DON’T UNDERSTAAAAAAND. @theredwallrecorder, @raphcrow, @willzgirl, @the-redwaller, enjoy mateys. Here we go into this beauty o’ a chapter.  As always, music is provided!  For the first half of the chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBhFHJMVfiI For the most important part of the chapter, for when our three baes become so damn kick ass, for when the white one approaches and is about to have his tail handed to him, this song. This song is what inspired this entire fic, this entire rewrite, is this very song. Please picture the scene when the girls get their energy back to this entire song because I will be personally heart broken if you can’t picture it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ehm4HLnr-FQ

Chapter Five: Lessons Learned/Enter Vulpuz

Skipper watched quietly as Willow sat on the soft green moss in the dense forest, three different kind of blades in front of her. Her eyes were closed, her hands covering her heart. Her little black ears twitched at random intervals, as if they could hear voices. 

He gnawed his lower lip slightly, long whiskers twitching. She had only recently started training with the old mink. His hazel brown eyes glanced towards Madam Glass Eye. She wore a worn purple cloak over her quivering frail body, gripping at her walking stick firmly. The stick upon closer inspection, was rather thick, and covered in whorls and lettering from a language that he could not understand. The black silk patch over her eye made her seem roguish, and at times, Skipper entertained himself with the image of the old mink as the captain of a pirate ship. She was certainly tough enough, he mused to himself. He could easily picture her setting sail on rough seas with a ridiculously strong crew, terrorizing the high seas, drinking grog all day, and singing shanties at night. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as she slowly turned at him and winked, as if confirming his daydreams as facts. Before Skipper could even open his mouth, she turned towards his daughter. 

    “Well, what do you hear today?” 

    “Mm...” Willow’s long eye lashes twitched before she slowly opened them. The difference in her eye colors always struck Skipper; the blue and the green were such a lovely contrast. He knew he’d have to beat away the males with a shovel in not too long. “This one here,” Willow touched the sword in the middle. “This is a new blade. They haven’t seen battle, nor bloodshed.” 

    “Good. What else?”

     “They were forged by a badger. The will to protect loved ones was poured into every inch of them.” 

      “What else?” Madam Glass Eye probed on. Skipper was already pretty damn impressed. She had hobbled over to them and without a word, laid out the weapons carefully on a white cloth before hand, and merely told Willow to listen. 

     “...They came from minerals and iron in the mountains. If I am very quiet, I can hear most of their materials inside of them. It sometimes sounds like a song, other times like a conversation. Sometimes they sound like crying, like this one over there,” Willow pointed towards the blade to the left. It was a jagged weapon, the blade old with age and wicked. “They cry a lot, this one.” Willow pinned back her ears. “They’ve seen foul, murderous things. They didn’t want to shed blood, but they did, and now all they want is to be soaked red.” Skipper shuddered, and even Madam Glass Eye looked uncomfortable. “They are from a land of snow and ice, and pain. Their iron was hard to find and harder to make. Because of this, they are brittle. Oh, but this here, this is Friar’s kitchen blade. They want to go back to cooking.” Willow giggled, picking up the giant kitchen blade. “I like kitchen blades the best, they tell me how to cook things.” 

     “Willow!” A young voice squeaked. “Willow, get yer tail out here!” 

   Willow jumped up, nearly cutting her footpaws on the blades as she bounded off the cloth. “It’s Fleck! Oh, father, may I go play with him? 

      “Yer ‘ere fer a lesson ‘ith Madam--” 

       “For a few minutes, go play.” The old paw waved. “Be back in fifteen.” 

        The young mink flashed a pearly white grin before she bounded off. There was the sound of bodies colliding and muffled hollering, before a loud splash and giggling took over. Sighing loudly, Madam Glass Eye slowly stood up from the tree trunk she had been resting on, stretching out her back. 

    “...So? Woddya ‘ink?” 

     “Besides your lack of grammar skills, you’d have made a rather roguish pirate.” She chuckled as he shot her a embarrassed, but irritated look. Sighing, she looked up at the sky, her gnarled toes curling around the stem of a daisy. “She is powerful. Her magic lies within the earth, specifically with finer materials and minerals in bladed weapons. Few mink ever are born with such a power. She needs to train, and live as happily as possible.” 

      “Wot’s ‘at mean?” 

     “Her future could either be wonderful, or quite red.” Madam Glass Eye stomped on the daisy to make her point. She tapped her eye patch. “I should know, after all. Seeing the future is a curse, my dear Skipper. The less I look, the safer everyone else. However, her future just won’t leave me alone.”

       “Red? Wot’s that mean?” Skipper scowled. “Red is ‘er favorite color. D’ye mean...blood?” 

    Madam Glass Eye didn’t respond. She wrapped the cloak around herself, as if to warm herself. She shook her head and heaved a sigh. “I hope we never find out.” She finally said. 

                                                         ***

    She was red. How she loved this color. It came in so many shades, so many vibrant variations, different kinds of bold, different kind of pastels...she loved it. Willow adored it. She felt that everything that red represented was her. She saw red in the fires that she cooked over for her holt. Red was hot; it represented heat, longing, desire, willpower, and courage. She saw red in her father. He lead with strength, he made her joyful with his love and jokes. She saw red in Fleck. He was vigorous, determined, and radiant. She loved him. She saw red in the blades she spoke with; all their malice, brilliance, and wrath. She saw it in blood. Blood was the combination of it all for her. The more she practiced with the swords, the more she could hear it. Blood pumping, thrumming, dancing in every creature she interacted with. She wanted to reach out and touch it. It danced and shimmered for her. It called to her, singing to her a song she didn’t know the words in her head, but yet knew them perfectly well in her heart. 

A season had passed since she had begun her training with Madam Glass Eye. Never once did she mention the blood’s song to her mentor. How could Willow? It scared her. At first. She ignored it, a scratch she wouldn’t itch. 

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The song became louder...and it was no longer scary. It was comforting. A friend that she longed to embrace. Each creature she passed, their blood sang their song. She had noticed when she was cooking with the Friar, and the Abbot stopped by. She couldn’t see them, no, not their faces, their fur, their clothes. She saw blood standing in their forms. It had frightened her so much she nearly dropped the bowl she was holding. Their blood sang to her. It sang of individual feelings, thoughts, it was as if she was looking into their very souls. The smell of crispy pastries and mouth-watering soups vanished. The tinge of nutmeg no longer tickled her nostrils, nor did Willow feel in her hands the bowl she was holding, stirring up sweet cake batter. She could not see the glorious old ovens, the pantries piled with food, or the messy tables. She did not feel the warm cobblestone under paw, nor did she hear them ask if she was okay. All she could see, hear, feel, was their blood songs. The songs were ancient, melodies hitting notes she had never heard before. 

When she came to, she found herself in bed, the nurse worriedly watching her. 

Such experiences became common place, to the point where she was no longer alarmed. 

But lately...lately she had wondered, if the blood were to all form together as an ocean, what would happen? Would the sea of blood song finally connect them all? Would there no longer be any pain? Would beasts stop seeing her as a vermin if they could hear her blood sing? She hadn’t seen Fleck in a season now. His father would beat him when he caught him sneaking off. If Stone could hear what she heard, would he feel united, not divided? New arrivals at the Abbey didn’t trust her, and some who did know her still feared her. What if she just let a small drop of her blood out? Would the world hear it? 

Putting down her kitchen knife, she looked into the cauldron that bubbled with her soup. She hated shrimp, but the otters adored it, so every night she made hot root soup, just for them. Closing her eyes, she let the crackling of the fire fade, ignoring the spicy tingle on her tongue. She raised a paw over her head, calling forth a blade. Surely just one drop of blood would be all that was needed. The prick of the blade did not satisfy her. Perhaps a bigger slice would be better. 

Make me red. She commanded the blade, ears perked, ready to hear her blood’s song, hoping the holt would love the sound as much as she did.

    She heard a scream of horror instead. Eyes slowly fluttering open, Willow felt her heart stopping. Lying on the ground was her father, her kitchen knife buried deeply into his leg. His blood was pooling under him, soaking into his fur. His blood wasn’t singing, it was screaming. Bark Nip was shaking her, while Kelp knelt next to Skipper, trying to staunch the blood flow, her bandages next to her. Through it all, Skipper did not look angry or horrified. He kept shouting Willow’s name, begging her to stay with him.  Willow’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fainted.

                                                        ***

The pale sun in Hellsgates dimly shone down on the remains of the broken night club. They were all silent. Willow felt drained and exhausted. She had explained how the green eye appeared before her, the glass one that Madam Glass Eye wore, and she felt Fleck’s life passing from the living to the dead. How she felt him entering the Dark Forest. She had called out to him...and he had heard her. She danced, she sang, she did all she could to just...make him feel that he should wait for her. For once last chance to see each other. But after what she had done...would he even want to see her? 

The silence from the Lady was deafening. Nivedita was still holding Willow and stroking her on the head, giving comfort in any way she could. Tuskan, the male rat, coughed once or twice. 

     “Perhaps it is time.” The Lady finally said, quietly. Nivedita and Willow stiffened, slowly looking up. 

      “...What?” Willow dreaded the answer.

      “Perhaps it is time that you officially went to the Badger’s Counsel.” 

     Willow felt as if she had been punched in the guts. She struggled to breathe, Nivedita holding her closer, almost protectively. Willow could hear the rat’s heart racing horrifically fast. 

    “What’s the, uh, the Badger’s C-counsel?” Tuskun coughed, licking his dry lips, his nose twitching against the dust that curled into the air around them from the destruction. Nivedita opened her mouth to explain, when the pale sun overhead darkened. The air had the tang of rotten flesh and volcanic rock, the ground under them shifting at random intervals. It would look like the flower garden before flickering to look like gray sand, and black stones riddled with lava veins. Slowly turning, they all stared at the white figure who stood at the very barrier of Hemlock Grove. He wore darkness as his cape and hat, shadows snaking around him as if he stood in the wind. His voice came out both as velvet, and as nails being dragged over a chalkboard. 

     “The Badger’s Counsel, my dear ratling, is where the first Badger Lord’s rule. It is they, who choose who lives in the Dark Forest, and who comes to my domain. It is they who keep me out of their precious Dark Forest, and the land of the living. They station worthy guards to contain me to this hell.” He grinned wickedly, his long fangs dripping with saliva. “They claim to be ones to help shape the destiny of heroes. They claim they don’t discriminate, so, technically Willow Slay lies in their jurisdiction. She was meant to be a creature of good, not a creature of evil, yet here we are. My lady,” He made an elegant sweep of his leg and a hat appeared on his head, to which he took off with his bow. 

      “They have the right to bring Willow Slay to their realm.” Nivedita whispered to Tuskan, as the lady slowly turned to face the master of Hellgates. She looked as if she were containing a giant sigh. 

    “Vulpuz.” She snapped.

     “The Lady.” 

     “To what do I owe this...pleasure?” 

      “Oh, you know, the usual.” The fox began to pace just outside of the garden’s black iron gate. His white and silver fur flashed under the pale light of the overhead sun as he moved. “I was bored to tears, torturing some souls, as I do, when a little hell bat told me of what had transpired here, and, honestly, I had to come see for myself. My my, but you look like you were put through the runner.” 

   Slowly the Lady plucked the rest of the blades out of her body, plunking them on the ground with a loud twang as the wounds healed. “Your point?” 

      The fox opened his mouth and licked his chops. “What a more perfect way to destroy you, then when you are at your weakest?” His claws protruded further from his paws. “I was mulling it over, but I think I just really want to kill you all with my own bare paws. 

    Tuskan, though while petrified, opened his mouth to respond before slowly shutting it again. The air around him had shifted. He could feel a spark of energy blitzing around the three females surrounding him. He took a step back. He suddenly was aware of how utterly outmatched and outclassed he was. The demeanor between them all had changed. Moments ago, they were filled with sadness, depression, even a sense of defeat. But now? Completely different. Tuskan couldn’t quite help but feel proud as the three looked amongst themselves, nodded slightly, and then they all smiled. 

The Lady stood up and stretched. She snapped her fingers. The nightclub groaned and shook as pieces were fitted back together. Stone upon stone, an brick upon brick as perfectly put back in place, and Tuskan could have sworn that the garden of flowers around him suddenly bloomed.

      “Ladies?” Willow asked. They nodded. She turned, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not going to get in my way.” 

      “Think of it as payback for earlier.” 

      “Earlier...? Oh!” Willow grinned wolfishly. She bared her teeth back, feeling Nivedita flank her side as the Lady strode forward. “That small fight. Holding a grudge will just make you uglier, you know.” 

       Vulpuz’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head completely. 

       “Vulpuz, you’re standing in my flower garden. That’s trespassing.” the Lady sighed loudly. “My dears, before we all go to greet this Fleck fellow, do you mind if I take care of this first?         “Only if you let us join my Lady.” Both Willow and Nivedita chimed in.

       “Oh, I suppose.” The Lady was smiling now. Her torn dress slowly morphed into a different style, the material a shimmering gold. 

      Tuskan gulped, sensing how out of place he was. Vulpuz took a step back as the force that was Willow Slay, Nivedita, and the Lady headed towards him. Shaking his head angrily, he rolled his eyes, opening and closing his fist. 

       “You dare approach me? You are approaching your own demise.” Vulpuz spread his paws over his head, black swirling out of his finger tips like a storm cloud, when small vines laced with thorns erupted from the ground under him, tangling around his body, digging deeply into his fur and flesh. He struggled as the three approached, walking to some invisible beat. Red mists clouded his eyes and he felt blades slicing into his flesh. 

   “Let’s see how you handle us all!” Nivedita snapped, her shadow twisting and morphing, a roar following it.

     “Get out of my rose garden,” the Lady murmured calmly, her eyes flashing.