WHAT!! Disneyland??? :eek:
That's great, i wish it was me... :D

All lament! For the Hero has fallen!

No, on a serious note, here I am the night before I leave, and no chapter ready!

Before you lynch me, I must say that I believe I will have internet access at my hotel, and I will definately have a chapter out in the next few days.
Promise.

I apologize for any inconvenience....

WHAT??? internet? At the hotel??? wooow.... :eek:

:(
I was wrong.
So, so wrong.

I swear that I will have a new chapter as soon as I possibly can.
I don't have enough time to write up a new chapter right now, so I will when I can.
Promise.

Ah nevermind! :D

Awesome story, you've just got yourself another constant reader here :)

Well, Santa knows where all the Bad Girls live.
But I know what's going on with Dante.
Would you like to know?
I bet you would!
Okay!

Chapter 12 Yay!
After the initial push from Orion, I felt a brief sensation of falling. I guess you could say that it was the kind of fall you expected to be in for quite some time, like you jumped off the high dive at a pool and knew you were in for a longer than usual fall.
Instead, the fall lasted about half a second, and I landed with an unceremonious and unimportant thud in a new place.
I took in my new surroundings. Straight ahead of me there was a dull and lifeless mudokon village. It looked like any mudokon village you’d ever see. But there was something … unnerving about it. It took about three seconds to catch on: there was absolutely no color whatsoever in the entire village. Everything was in shades of black, white, and gray. The huts, the fires, the grass, the birds, the firewood, the trees, the sky, and the mudokons were all colorless. It was as if I was watching an old television set. I had to suppress a deep urge to cry out.
Instead, I turned around to see what had befallen the rest of the landscape. Thankfully, it was in full color. It just … happened. There was no fading between colors and black-and-white, there was just a line. There could’ve been a sign put up that read “No Color Beyond This Point.” But that is all unimportant. What I saw there was a vast and powerful river. It had to have been two miles wide, and I’m sure it would take a severely long time to travel from the source of the river and where it met the ocean. I was surprised it hadn’t been drained by the glukkons, but just as I thought of this it occurred to me that the glukkons had no idea that it even existed. Far across the river I could see smoke from small campfires—Rotag. Orion was probably over there, looking right at me.
Well, good. Let him see me begin my quest! Huzzah!
I turned and was about to march right into the colorless town (which I remembered to be called Oblim) and I stumbled. I had already forgotten how depressing this place looked. Instead of turning back, I just sucked in a huge breath (not knowing how that was supposed to help me, but I did it anyways) and marched forward.
No one stopped me until I reached the center of town. A light gray mudokon moped along, and when he noticed me, he didn’t say “Hello,” he simply let out a long, terrible, depressing sigh.
I instantly felt a wave of sadness overcome me. Great Odd, what could’ve possibly upset this mudokon so much? I felt so sorry for him. I made my way over to him, at what I hoped was a non-intimidating pace, and he decided it was safe to greet me.
“Hello,” I said. “Are you okay, buddy?”
The mudokon sighed again, and I felt that same pain overcome me, but weaker. “My name is Boomer, and no, I am not okay. Everything just … kinda … kinda sucks.”
I was genuinely hurt by this. I mean, I think back now and realize, what the hell? Sure life sucks, but that’s no reason to wander around infecting people.
Which is what he was doing; I was slowly becoming depressed just talking to this guy. I noticed this when I reached up to rub sweat from my forehead; my paw was slowly turning a dark gray.
Okay, I thought, I’m turning gray. Don’t panic. I have to cheer this guy up before I do anything. He’s more important to me right now; no one that is this depressed should be left alone.
So I spoke again. “Alright, Boomer, what makes you feel like everything sucks? Did something bad happen to you?”
I thought I saw a brief gleam of hope in his eyes when I said this, and I thought, Progress!
“Well … I’ve seen so many people just walk on through here without ever bothering to check up on anyone here. I suppose you’re on your way to complete the Mudokon Trials, too, huh?”
I winced. I didn’t think it mattered, but it seemed to matter to Boomer. “Well, yes, but—”
Boomer let out a monstrous wail, and began to pummel himself. It was disturbing to watch: he just started slamming his fists into his face. He was merciless!
“Stop that!” I shouted. And, thankfully he did, but I don’t know if it was out of fear or because he knew a command when he heard it.
Wait … was I commanding him? I suddenly thought of Abe … how he directed countless mudokons with no effort. Well, why not?
“Okay, Boomer. I know that life sucks. I know it very well. I just recently escaped from the Tastee Treets Factory because the glukkons there want to make me and my friends into cheap food for their stock animals. In doing so I lost an arm, was coated in crap, suffered multiple stabs from fleeches, and was finally shot and killed, only to watch my own body drown.
“But do you know something? I died watching the Moon. I survived. I have a purpose. And it is my firm belief that things happen for a reason, Boomer. All of us—mudokon, glukkon, slig, slog, whatever—have something to accomplish in life. You are just depressed because you haven’t found your purpose yet.
“So you need to figure out what you want to do with yourself. You can mope around here, moaning and groaning, or you can go and do something. And keep this in mind: no matter how sucky you think things are, someone else is out there who has things even worse.”
Boomer sat and listened intently. And I swear on Mother Sam’s name, I could literally see the color returning to his skin. His gray tone became a bright green. The black feathers on his head became a deep red. His loincloth made a hardly noticeable change from dark gray to deep brown. His white eyes became a healthy yellow and orange.
And he was smiling.
“Hey, everybody!” Boomer suddenly shouted. “Check out this guy! This guy—” He looked over at me. “What’s your name, Blue?”
“Dante.”
Shouting again. “This guy Dante! He brought Happy!”
I almost burst out laughing, but decided it would be best not to. If I laughed, he might interpret it as me thinking he was stupid, and he’d lapse back into depression.
Eager mudokon faces poked out of doors and windows. Faces were already gaining slight color in hopes that I could bring “Happy” to them.
And to encourage them, I spoke: “It’s true! This is Boomer, as I am sure you all know. I just showed him how much there is to live for, and how much worse off some people are.”
As I spoke, the mudokons stepped out of their huts, eager to hear me speak. Feeling empowered, I continued.
“There isn’t any reason to slink around and complain—you guys have it a lot better than I did where I came from.”
“Where are you from?” A random voice from the gathering crowd.
“I was raised in Tastee Treets Factory, and it literally cost me my life to get out.”
There were varied gasps and cries when I said Tastee Treets. But I definitely had the full attention of the crowd.
I told my whole story to this crowd, and was amazed at the way the color snuck into their skin. There had to be at least fifty mudokons here, all listening to me speak. It made me feel pretty important. Like I had an effect on their lives.
As I continued speaking …
“… and I have a purpose in my life. I know what I have to do. There is something for me to accomplish. And that is what you all need to do! Find purpose, Find meaning. And you guys know something?”
A unanimous “What, Dante?”
“Everything has a purpose! From the lowly slurg to the mighty scrab, every living thing has a purpose, and Fate will help it to complete its task!”
The mudokons really enjoyed this. There was a massive and triumphant cheer from the crowd.
And as they cheered, a wave of bright and healthy color issued forth from all of them. It screamed into the sky. It was almost like paint splashing onto a canvas. Color bloomed everywhere. Skies of blue, clouds of white, grass of green, huts of brown. All the colors came from the freshly enlightened crowd of mudokons. I wish I could explain the joy in their faces when they realized what was happening. Their cheering only redoubled, and I felt a very deep, very complete satisfaction.
An old mudokon that could only have been the chief of the village stepped forth. His feathers were long and ragged, and his face was sagging, but he was still full of life.
“Young Mister Dante, I am the chief of this poor village—” (my suspicious confirmed, I thought with some humor) “—and I want to thank you on behalf of us all. I want you to know that I, Patch, swear our village into your allegiance for all time. If there is anything we can do for you, simply name it.”
I thought for a moment, and thought up an abrupt request.
“Well,” I began, and showed him my earring. “Can you tell me what I can do with this?”
Patch’s eyes widened. Not in fear, but in understanding. “Absolutely. Come with me.”
He took me through the crowd of still cheering mudokons and into a small, out of the way hut. Without a word, or even a glance back at me, he walked in. And I, obviously, followed.
Inside was a tall totem pole. Carved on it were the faces of paramites and mudokons.
“Give me your earring, Dante.”
I remembered Orion’s warning. Guard it with my life, he said. “Absolutely not,” I said. “I was told to guard this.”
Patch nodded. “Very well. Place it inside the middle paramite face.”
I looked at the pole and it struck me how lifelike the face was. I hesitated for only a second—instinct overcame me for just that long—then I removed my earring and placed it inside the paramites maw.
At first there was nothing. Then, an unimpressive green flash, and no more.
“It is done!” Patch cried. “You have earned the Spirit of the Paramite!”
I raised an eyebrow. “The Spirit of the Paramite, eh? What’s it do?”
Patch talked right through me. “This is amazing! I never get over this. The power to actually become a paramite, now that is just fantastic! I mean—”
“Hold it!” I cried. “Become a paramite? What do you mean?”
Patch stopped. “You haven’t been told about this earring?”
I shrugged. “A mudokon named Orion gave it to me. But he said he didn’t know anything about it.”
Patch smiled wide. “Well, I’ll have to tell you all about it, won’t I?”
And he did.

Wow, brilliant chapter. The only shame is that it's finished :(

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
The tale of a fateful trip.
That started from this tropic port aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailing man
The skipper brave and sure
And Dave's fans set sail that day for the 13th chapter!
The 13th chapter!

Chapter 13
A long, long time ago, back when Oddworld was young, there was a small troop of spiritual travelers. There were ten in this band, and each had dedicated its soul to the preservation of their own respective species.
Each of these travelers was a respected sage among their own, and they had a pact of peace among themselves.
Arid the Paramite, like all creatures of the time, shared the common language of all beings in the universe, inglish. Likewise, Cicatrize the Scrab and Haste the Slog could speak the language. Branch the Slig and Caw the Gabbit were closer friends in this group. Ned the Intern was known for his loud and obnoxious behavior, and only relaxed around Tore the Vykker. Volvo was the first incarnation of the Big Bro Slig, but his constant bouts of disease made him an unlikely candidate for evolution. Avid the Glukkon was very bossy and strict, and didn’t like being disagreed with. Lastly, there was Sake the Mudokon. He said hardly anything about anything, and was very passive.
The group was a true band of brothers. They were able to help and solve the problems of all they found. And thanks to them, there was peace between their species for a long time.
But, as is true throughout the universe, all good things must come to an end. Avid and Tore made an agreement with each other, and made a private, anti-aggression pact between their species. This was important, as the group was aging, and though their wisdom expanded, their influence failed. Avid and Tore both saw the importance of creating alliances for when their wisdom vanished from Oddworld.
Arid and Cicatrize did not foresee any trouble. But, they ended up being the cause of all the problems that would separate the Ten.
The paramite, as we all know, is a social animal, but prefers, specifically, its own species. But, in Arid’s position, he had to settle for the most animal-like create in the pack, Cicatrize. The scrab, in return, was fiercely territorial, and traveled a bit away from the troop as it was. On the occasions when Arid tried to communicate, Cicatrize would strike a warning pose, and Arid backed down, tired and defeated.
Branch believed in the power Avid professed, and was willing to follow him. Haste, meanwhile, had adopted Branch as a master. Volvo eventually realized he had power and strength to surpass the whole pack. And, as he was the cousin of Branch, he could only go along with him.
Finally, Caw and Sake were left unallied and uncomfortable. They both sought peace among the group, but they had different ideas. Caw wanted them all to try and teach their wisdom and experience to others, so that it would live on. Sake wanted to construct temples and monuments to his pack so that those who were worthy of the knowledge they held could earn it, instead of being force fed the knowledge, as Caw proposed.
This only led to a dispute, and gabbits and mudokons became fierce rivals.
Eventually, the pack divided and returned to their own species, as wise old individuals. The shared what they knew of other races with their own, and each decided what they should do.
Arid returned to the forest, and told his fellows what he knew. The glukkons and vykkers were greedy, and would do whatever they could to gain power.
Cicatrize quickly became the alpha male of a scrab herd (and kept that position until he drowned in a flood). Passing his knowledge on, the scrabs learned of the greed of the glukkons and vykkers.
Haste spent no time in deciding he would follow Branch anywhere. Branch did not mind, and thought it would be convenient to have an animal like that on his side. It could probably be trained to be vicious, and hopefully to Avid’s satisfaction.
Tore gave Ned his first job as a henchman for the newly established Vykker’s Conglomerate. Tore had gained quick favor among his colleagues, what with his information on other species. He was the first president of the Conglomerate, and the founder of the first incarnation of Vykker’s Labs. Taking Volvo to his lab, he tried to recreate the genetic mutation found in sligs that made them mutate. It would take generations to perfect.
Avid began his own business: the manufacture of a worldwide currency: moolah. This was introduced to his glukkon friends, and there was a set standard for the worth of moolah. Basically a type of credit system, moolah soon became widely valued by glukkons and vykkers alike. Avid began the Margaret Cartel, named for his Mother (Through the generations, it was slurred and changed to simply the Magog Cartel). It became a true power, pulling up all world resources and creating smoke-belching factories. And so the Cartel was born.
Caw returned to the sea, and explained not the danger of the glukkons and vykkers, but the ignorance of the mudokons. The gabbits swore to never leave the seas, so that they would not risk meeting the pesky mudokons, with their ridiculous ideals.
When Sake arrived in his home village, he didn’t warn of the arrogant gabbit, but rather preached to his brothers about his encounters, and paid particular attention to the majesty of paramites and scrabs. His proposition was to dedicate the lives of their people to spiritual expansion and enlightenment, along with the study and preservation of paramites and scrabs. His ideas were widely received and immediately accepted. The center of mudokon influence was called Mighty Sake’s Temple. But, again, as generations passed, slurring speech changed its title to Monsaic Temple.

Back when there was peace among this band, they forged many treasures for future generations. Few remain who know what they are for, or what they do.
Among these treasures was a set of jewels enchanted by Sake. His particular favorite was a set of four earrings, only two of which remain today. By wearing these, and empowering them through the totems Sake and his future followers planted in final respect to his lifetime partners, a mudokon could call upon the spirits and essences of those Sake had once trusted.

“And that earring,” Patch finished, “is one of the remaining two. You are quite lucky to have it simply given to you. You must have someone upstairs who likes you.”
I shrugged. “No, he lives across the river.”
Sure, I knew what he meant, but I felt like making a joke. We chuckled at that a bit, and Patch spoke again.
“Now, I do believe that you need to empower a second mudokon with a Flash power.”
“A what? Flash power?” Just when I was getting into the story, he threw a new power at me. Sheesh.
“The Flash power allows a mudokon to have psychic connection with the mudokon who wears one of the Sake Earrings. Namely, you. You can call upon whom you choose to hold the flash power at any time to empower you with the Spirit of Arid. Then, chant to physically become the old paramite.”
That was a lot to swallow, but I managed to catch on. “That’s pretty sweet.”
“Indeed,” Patch agreed. “And then you focus on your mudokon body to return to it. I wish I could’ve found the earring. But, hey, you’re the one who has to save your brothers.” He looked a little disappointed.
I was a bit worried his color might vanish, and an idea struck me. “Remember my ‘everything has a purpose’ speech? I think a purpose has presented itself for you, Mister Patch.”
A grin stretched across his face, and I could swear that there was more color in his features than before. Without any hesitation, he plunged his hand into the opening where the earring had been.
Instead of the boring little flash there had been on the ring, there was a loud and painful-sounding stab of lightning on Patch’s left hand. He uttered an angry grunt, and yanked out his hand. He looked at it, dumbstruck, and held up his hand so I could see it.
The letter A was scratched into the flesh. Around it was a crude drawing of a paramite.
“Whoa … that was painful,” Patch said. His tone was similar to that of someone commenting on a beautiful day. “But in any case, I’m glad that I can help you, Dante.”
I shrugged again. “Well, sure, Patch. Anything you need.” I hesitated a second before continuing; I didn’t want to seem too anxious. “But, I still have a quest to finish … and there are quite a few mudokons back at Tastee Treets that are relying on me… so if you could point me in the direction of Muto …?”
Patch seemed to understand; he didn’t look upset, anyways. “Of course. Follow me.” And he silently slipped outside again.
We were greeted by the same, tireless multitude of mudokons. We worked our way through, and over to Norchan River.
The ferryman was a bright white-green. “Ahoy, there, Dante! What brings you about my ferry?”
“I need to get to Muto. Can you take me?”
The ferryman shuddered, then smiled. “Well, I suppose I can, Sir! All I have to say to you is good luck, matey! Step aboard!”
And so I did.
And we set off.
Hurrah!


Oh, and a note: In case you missed it, this story takes place at the same time as Munch's Oddysee.
And another note: Two chapters in two days! Whoo!
And one final note: DAVE ROCKS!
...
I'm done.
More on the way!

Whee!
 

Now, is this great or what? Three chapters in three days!
But I don't want to spoil you. So, no more chapters until Saturday!
Bwa ha haa!

I'm so lame. I'll try to get as many chapters out as I can as I go along.

Oh, right! The Chapter! Well, since you've all been so accomodating, here you go!
Note: If you see little squares around sentences instead of the hooks that I meant to have there, they are suppossed to be punctuation. No need to panic.

Chapter 14

The ride across the river was mostly uneventful.
Unless you count the part where my hand almost got swallowed. It was pretty nasty.
We were lazing slowly along, and as people on rafts sometimes do, I allowed my fingers to trail in the water, leaving long trails and ripples. The ferryman (who insisted on being called simply The Ferryman) warned me in his friendly voice that the water was haunted or something stupid. I was just waving away his warning when the water suddenly got thick and sticky, like gooey honey. Except it was a lot less pleasant.
The goo began to stick and crawl up my fingers and up towards my wrist. So, naturally, I panicked. I was about to try and brush it off with my other hand when I realized it would probably get stuck just as easily.
The Ferryman finally turned his head to check on all my fussing, and saw a hideous, clear substance working it’s way up my arm. “Hey there, Ferryman?” I tired to sound cool, calm, and collected. I think I managed to sound shaky, scared, and disturbed. “What do you say to this?”
The Ferryman sighed a deep, exasperated sigh. Oh, not again, that sound meant. “Just ignore it. It feeds on your panic, so just relax and it’ll get bored. Then away it goes, bay-beee,” he finished, a little comically. He even flourished and bowed a little.
How one was to relax when his arm was being devoured by glue was just outside of my comprehension. But, okay. I could distract myself.
I decided to try my little psychic link thing with Patch. I thought about it, and decided it would be like thinking at him. Sure.
⌠Hey there, Patch? Can you hear me? Think “Yes” if you can!⌡
I was suddenly struck with shame, as if I had interrupted him doing something private.
⌠Yes … Dante? Is that you?⌡
I was relieved. ⌠It sure is. Did I startle you?⌡
⌠Yes … I was just sitting down to … relieve myself … and all of a sudden, poof! Dante’s voice in my head!⌡ He sounded a little embarrassed. ⌠Anything I can do for you? Paramite powers already?⌡
⌠Not yet, Patch,⌡ I told him. ⌠I just need to distract myself from these gooey waters. It’s a good thing you told me about it, huh?⌡ I added, sarcastically.
Patch laughed in his head. (I guess for you humans, it is sort of like seeing someone type “LOL!” in an “instant message.”). ⌠Yes, a good thing, indeed. Well, glad I could help you, anyhow. Give me a buzz any old time, Dante. Now, can I finish my business?⌡
I winced, remembering he had been about to poop. ⌠Sure, guy. Go ahead.⌡
Just about then, the ferryman spoke up. “Mister Dante, can you hear me? We’ve been at the dock for about five minutes, and you haven’t been responding. Say something, or I’ll have to take you back across to get help!”
I shook out of my little daze, and immediately checked my hand. The goo was gone. You’d doubt that it had been there in the first place, I remember thinking.
Then I noticed the weather. It was suddenly a lot cooler around me, and the sun had set.
“Uhh, I’m fine,” I said stupidly. “Thanks for the ride.”
Relieved, the Ferryman grinned. “Anytime, Mister Dante! Enjoy Muto!”
And he set off again without another word. I wanted to call over and ask what the time was, but it seemed like I knew. It was mid morning when I left Oblim and reached to port. The ride across couldn’t have been more than a half an hour; I could see the opposite shore clearly.
But the sun was no where in sight, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and it was really, really cold.
Ahead of me was what looked like a shadowy cave entrance. Or maybe an opening into a path through a forest. Or someplace warm. So, shuddering, I stumbled forward and through the trees (as they happened to be), hoping for the best.


I hope that will tide you over for a bit. :) Be happy and be healthy.

Are you listening? Whoa, oh, oh ...
Sing it back! Whoa, oh, oh ooh oh, oh ...

Anyways, wow. This will make four chapters in a row. I'm feeling a-prettypretty good right about now. I think after I post this I'm gonna go find me some of that Tecnochocolate.

Mmm.

Chapter 15

Sheesh! When Orion said windy and dark, he meant windy and dark!
And of course I was wearing only my standard issue loincloth. So I was freezing. My arms were wrapped around my chest, trying to convince it to warm up. Meanwhile I was telling myself that the wind wasn’t too big a deal. And the more I thought about it, it wasn’t so bad! Oh, no, wind! Boo-frickity-hoo, right?
As for walking itself, that got to be a problem. Considering I couldn’t see a thing, I thought I ran into an appreciatively low amount of things. I think I bumped into around a dozen different trees. Tripped over what I hoped was only a jygg (and it was, since it didn’t attack me), and got my face scratched up by hundreds of tree branches.
I think I was doing fine. But for all I knew, I could’ve been retracing my steps, walking in a huge circle, never going anywhere.
And as soon as the thought entered my mind, I seized upon it and held it as true. I didn’t want to be lost in these dark, chilly woods! I wanted to be asleep somewhere warm and comfortable, maybe sipping some tea.
Orion’s voice filtered through my thoughts. The temptation to turn back would be great here, but to proceed, you’ll have to show some self-control. Ugh.
But I realized he was right. And besides, I couldn’t be walking in circles, because I kept my hands out in search of other openings alongside the path.
Wait a minute.
That’s dumb! There are trees everywhere, and it’s not like they make up a solid [I]wall[/I[ or anything.
I slowed to a halt. I stood for a good three minutes, not doing anything. Except an occasional whine or whimper.
Aha! What animal could move around in the dark without any problem, despite having no eyes?
Paramites could!
⌠Hey! Patch!⌡ I cried with no warning. Again, I was struck that maybe I had interrupted him.
⌠Hey there, Dante,⌡ he said. He sounded friendly enough. ⌠Can I help you with something?⌡
⌠Yeah, um, can you help me with the paramite thing?⌡ I wasn’t sure how he’d do it, but I’d have to hope he knew how to fix my problem.
⌠Certainly!⌡ he said, with little surprise in his voice. ⌠Consider it done.⌡
And then, he did … hey, hold on a minute. It was done! He worked fast. With a quick ⌠Thanks!⌡ I prepared for the change!
…
Any second …
…
Uhh …
…
Oh! I forgot! I was supposed to chant to make it work. I knew I’d seen Orion do it, but it looked like it took a lot of effort. But it couldn’t hurt to try.
I pressed my palms together in front of my chest. Shrugging, I began to move my hands up and around in vertical circles. Before I knew I was saying anything, I heard a strange, musical language (that I was sure I’d never heard before) issuing forth out of my mouth.
A small tug inside my chest, and it happened.
The paramite has four legs, as we all know. The first change was for the front legs to erupt out of my chest, and for the rear legs to poke out of my lower stomach.
Looking at this, one would probably expect it to hurt terribly, but … I felt only tiny pinpricks of pain. And it wasn’t unbearable. Although if I was able to see it, I might have gone crazy.
Next was my neck. It shortened and thickened, until it was the width of my head. My own legs were rapidly shriveling, along with my arms. My loincloth had disappeared, and the leathery white skin of the paramite was coating my body.
Meanwhile, all sorts of changes were happening inside my body. A stomach that had been raised to live off of junky processed meat and high-caffeine sodas was now becoming a stomach that could process raw meat and blood. My lungs expanded, and my heart shrank ever so slightly. I could actually feel the bones in my body getting lighter. Even the web-making organs made a noticeable appearance.
While my body was fully paramite, my head was still mostly mudokon. But that suddenly changed when my chin stretched forward into a long finger. My lower lip disappeared, leaving the stitches to hang dumbly from my upper lip. My jaw unhinged, opening my mouth uncomfortably wide … but only for a second, as it readjusted itself in a more paramite-like position.
My mouth was hence stretched out, and my small teeth had vanished. Inside my mouth now was an open hole, carpeted by a thick red tongue. As the top half of my head flattened out, I felt my eyes melt away. My upper mouth plate stretched out farther than my jaw had, and split off into five fingers.
Lastly, my brain simplified. Only the necessary functions: sensing (the paramite version of sight, composed of hearing and smelling), touch, taste, and Dante.
Yes, I was a mental activity inside this paramite’s body. But I was dominant over the mind of the animal.
And as I adjusted to paramite-vision … the mind sketched out a perfect image of the trees around me! Pretty sweet. I think it took the sounds of the wind whistling through the trees and through open paths, and combined them with the smells coming off of (literally) everything. I could pick out each rock, bug, blade of grass, everything.
I took a few moments to get comfortable with my paramite body (although crawling around on all fours had become natural), and took in my surroundings.
I could smell mudokon behind me, and for a while back. That was me, obviously, much to the disappointment of the paramite in my mind. I had most definitely not been walking in circles.
Assured that the trip would be simply from here on out, I scampered off along the path.


Oh, yeah, and what happened to all my usual posting friends? No one wants to encourage me anymore? I feel lonely ... and when no one replies, I think it means no one is reading this .... :(

Brilliant chapters. I'm looking forward to the next chapter, yet again.

Hey, big spen-der!
Dig this blen-der!
Rainbow suspenders!
*We surr-en-der!*
...
SPEnnd some time with Dante's Oddysee!

Chapter 16

Okay, now that I had some sense as to where it was I was going, I could focus on getting the hell out of there.
As I skipped along (that’s actually what paramites refer to it as in their own minds; it isn’t running, it is skipping), I found it easier and easier to navigate through the woods. And, being a big bad paramite made all the lesser beasts back away. There were more than jyggs in these woods, after all. A few rogue slogs wandered about, and what I wanted to call a meech was hopping between treetops overhead. Life as usual in Muto.
My paramite mind would’ve loved to stop and begin a nest here. Untouched by mudokon, glukkon, and slig alike for years, it was a utopia that all paramites could enjoy. I was sure of it. But, they had the sanctity of Paramonia as it was, so oh well.
Nothing really happened as I hurried along. I won’t bore you with the details of choosing between left and right at the few forks in the path. No animals stood up to me, so I was home free.
This is the part of any story where you’d like to assume something bad is going to happen to the hero. Well … sorry to disappoint you, but I got through unscathed. Seriously, as soon as I reached the border of the forest and sensed light, there was no more reason to fear anything. Well, sure, there was a huge curtain of rain like you wouldn’t believe not five feet from the end of the path, but otherwise, no trouble.
I decided that being a paramite in the rain wouldn’t suffice in a rainstorm that massive. They’re small, after all, and could get easily washed away. And in the case of a flood, a paramite was worse off than a mudokon, who could at least try and pedal his arms back to shore. Paramite joints didn’t move like that. So, I focused deeply on my mudokon body.
I expected massive changes, as I had felt when becoming the paramite, but instead I felt as if I were inflating. Like a big paramite balloon. I heard a small pop!ing sound, and there I was, in my natural body. I reached up to feel for my earring, and when I was satisfied it was still there, I checked for my stitches. Of course, they were intact. A bit dismayed, I sighed. I guess stitches in my lips weren’t going to change.
So, anyway, I hiked into the rain, arms over my head. It was probably warmer now that there was no wind, but the cold rain made it worse. My feathers were ruffling already. As I moved, I tried to remember the name of the place that I was in. There was definitely a big, rainy place on my itinerary, and I think it was called Trinidad, or Riddle, or Trapped, or something. I could remember the place’s description, but not the name … the light of day began to return here, though this was a land tortured by constant rains. Shadows and sickening water are abundant. There is a beast to conquer here, and he isn’t particularly gentle.
Wait.
A beast?!?!
Uh-uh, no way, no how.
What was I supposed to do, go and punch it in the head? I mean, if it’s a beast, what can I do about it? I can’t exactly fight a wild animal—I’m a mudokon! Wild animals eat us three meals a day and in between!
As I was panicking, I hustled into what I hadn’t realized was a set off clearing, surrounded by large totem poles. In an effort to distract my runaway train of thought, I inspected the tall poles.
Each one was carved into the faces of the creepiest, scariest, and all-around nightmariest creatures Mother Odd ever decided to create.
The scrab heads carved into the pole looked in different directions, two at a time. They were stacked seven heads high, and one looked left, the other to the right on each level, making fourteen heads per totem.
I shuddered. It was such a deep shudder I could feel individual bones inside me shaking. Scrabs had always given me the creeps, and to see that this place was dedicated in their honor only made it worse. I took quick, jerky glances around, and drops of rainwater flung from my head as I did so. I felt my soggy feathers, limp and wet, flapping around behind my head.
Then I heard the first cry. It was high pitched and shrill, almost like nails on a chalkboard combined with the scream of a young girl.
I thought, okay, one scrab, I’ll still probably die, but I can handle one scrab.
But, of course, another scream answered it, this time from far behind me. As I jumped (and another five years fell off of my life), I spun around and heard galloping sounds.
Heavy scrab footfalls from both directions. Rain slamming down on and around me. Hungry, snorting, ripping sounds. Jaws clicking, teeth gnashing, I knew the scrabs were in a fight.
And I stood between them.


In the town where i was born lived a man who sailed the sea, and he told us of his life in the land of submarines. So we sailed up to the sun till we found a sea of green, and we lived beneath the waves in our yellow submarine.
And since we all live together in this yellow submarine, teling jokes and stories, why don't we comment on this one a bit more often? I don't feel very appreciated anymore ... except by Esus, but that's because Esus is the Man.

:)

Ah, another chapter!
Again, again!

Warden threw a party at the county jail.
The prison band was there and they began to wail,
The band was jumpin', the joint began to swing,
You shoulda heard us knocked out jailbirds sing!
Let's rock!

Chapter 16, sucka foos!

So, boys and girls, what do you do when you find yourself directly in the middle of a fight between two large, angry, and deadly animals? Do you A) Run away screaming, B) Hide behind something, C) Cry, or D) Try and fight back?
Well, it turns out I didn’t have a chance to decide. Because right then I found out what is scarier than being caught in a scrab fight.
A three-way scrab fight. I heard a third cry through the rain, far and distant. Overhead, thunder began to roar, and I could see lightning stab down at the earth at an uncomfortably close range. One fork of electricity struck the dirt a mere seven feet away. For a second, I could see a blue scorch in the ground, as dirt leapt up in protest, and the light was surprisingly dull. It was as if the lightning wasn’t really there.
I even stopped to listen to the thunder overhead (ignoring the fact that now there were about eight scrabs heading my way), and noticed it wasn’t a full sound. You know how thunder normally sounds, kinda like a boom!-rumble-rumble, right? But this thunder didn’t echo. It was just a loud slam sound.
Another howl from the scrabs brought me to my senses. I spun around in the direction of the sound, and (as my soggy feathers whipped around to my face again, sticking to the left side of my jaw) there it was, a fully grown scrab, tearing toward me. I would have bare seconds to decide what to do (although I was wasting time thinking all this up), so I had to make it count. The scrab was twenty feet away.
Should I jump to the side? No. Scrabs turned just as quick as flint, but
sixteen feet away
it is a scrab fight, so I was sure that the second scrab, behind me, was
thirteen feet away
its prime target. Still, I was right in
eight feet
his path. Now or never! I
three feet!
dove off to my left, and felt the wind breeze past my toes as the scrab tore past me. I had a feeling that he didn’t even notice me. All his thoughts were probably on the other scrab.
Wait! Other scrabs! Plural!
It suddenly occurred to me that laying on my back in a raging storm (however unreal it seemed) while a dozen scrabs were closing in was not a predicament I would wish on my worst enemy.
I stood and looked around, but the rain was getting more intense, and it was getting harder to see. Should I try for the paramite morph again? No, no way. All the rain drops would screw with my senses. No dice. If only I could do a scrab, I’d have no problem. I mean, these scrabs seemed to be able to get through the storm without any worry. Why, wouldn’t that be some—
The Scrab Totems! Just like the Paramite Totem! I had to put it inside the mouth of the middle scrab on the totem to get the power!
Wait a minute. Didn’t I need another mudokon to help me on that?
And weren’t there, like, eight totem poles?
The answer rammed me in the face. The scrabs fighting here were a distraction! They were here to distract me from getting the power (and probably to distract each other from killing me).
I quickly wiped the rain (now as heavy and hard as rocks; it may have been hail) from my eyes, and squinted into the fog. A much welcomed fork of lightning stabbed down at the center of the circle of totem poles, illuminating the “arena.” There were now about fifty scrabs, paired off and trading howls and shouts.
Quick mental math! A fight between two scrabs lasted about five seconds. The winner spent the next ten (or so) munching on the carcass of the loser. I suppose that it would take another three seconds for each scrab to choose another scrab to fight. About fifty scrabs now … that would make about four or five rounds of fights between scrabs before there was an overall champion, ready to kill me. So … I had about a minute and a half to find a mudokon to help me, and the proper totem from which to get the power of Cicatrize the Scrab.
And the scrabs were already fighting.


By the way, it's time for a shameless advertisement for another story I will be starting once Dante's tale is told.
Not to worry, of course; this story is hardly halfway through! However, I am already thinking up ideas for my next fic!
The only thing I know about it for sure is the main character's name: Gaz, short for Gazeebo. I also know what the idea of the story is, but I'm gonna keep that under wraps for a while.
Until then, I hope you enjoy Dante's Oddysee for months to come!

I decide to do something completely unexpected and post two chapters on the same day! Who would've guessed?

Chapter 18

First things first: I had to pick out the totem. In a frantic effort, I rampaged through the sheets of hail, ignoring the screaming and tearing sounds of the scrabs and the sounds of the dead thunder above me, and groped out for the nearest totem pole.
My hands touched something cold, wet, and wooden—a totem! I quickly removed my earring and looked for an opening, as I had found on the paramite pole. I figured that it would be around the middle, since that was where the spot was when I gained the paramite power. But, no such luck. The only openings were in the statue-scrab’s open jaws, but those were pointing in opposite directions.
Eighty seconds to live.
I turned and followed the gaze of one of the statue scrabs. It was looking directly toward (what I thought might have been) another totem. I chased my way over to it, and inspected the middle of it. No opening! I followed the gaze of another statue scrab and took off for the next pole.
Seventy seconds to live.
I passed a pole that caught my interest on the way to the pole the second one had been looking at. This pole had two scrab heads looking off in different directions, just like all the others. But the heads seemed closer together than the others had. Then the answer came to me: the wrong totems all looked at each other, but not the right one!
Sixty seconds to live.
I jammed my earring out, and held it in the space between the two heads, hoping I was right (and also stubbing m fist into the wooden pole, but I ignored that). And thankfully, there was a brief, faint light illuminating and warming my hand. A grin stretched across my tired face. But, as I put the earring back on, my thoughts quickly turned to my next Flash-empowering. There were no mudokons around here, that was for sure.
Fifty seconds to live.
I had to try something, so I called on Patch again. ⌠Hey, dude. Make a bird portal and send me the first mudokon you can find. My life is at stake, do it now, ask me no questions.⌡
I heard a simple ⌠Yup⌡ in response, and had to wait.
Forty seconds to live.
I heard a quiet sound, almost like a quire of angels through the rain, coming from my right. I turned in time to see a rip in space, and a frail green mudokon stumbled through. He was instantly soaked. The rip stayed open, and I could see the town center of Oblim beyond, and a worried Patch chanting to keep the gate open.
Thirty-five seconds to live.
In a flood of speech, I hissed at this mudokon. “Alright, guy, I need you to stick your hand in between the two scrab-shaped heads on this totem pole. It’ll probably hurt a bit, but that’s not important now. Then I need you to give me scrab power. Then jump through that gate and pray for me. Do it or we are both toast.”
Twenty-five seconds to live.
Obviously terrified (and failing miserably at hiding it), he lurched forward and held out his hand, face down, right where I had told him to. Another dull flash, and he grunted. I pulled on his hand and looked at it. A large letter C was scarred on his hand, and a crude scrab drawing surrounded it.
Fifteen seconds to live. (It occurred to me now how long a couple seconds really is, and how much you could accomplish in such a short time.)
“Okay, now I need that scrab power!” I practically screamed at him. “Please!”
And he said, in a comically high voice, “Okay, dude, chill. Anything for Mister Dante!”
I didn’t see him do anything, but something definitely did happen.
Ten seconds to live.
“Alright, guy, if I live, I promise to get to know you a bit better. Now get out of here!”
He turned and jumped back through the portal, and Patch stopped chanting. I saw him look up and flash a quick “You can do it!” thumbs-up.
Five seconds to live.
I pressed my hands together and chanted.
The bones in my legs split in two, so that I had two full sets of leg bones inside each one. Then they pulled away from each other, splitting my legs vertically. My feet shriveled and came to deadly points. My skin was already becoming a bright reddish-orange.
Four seconds to live.
The muscles in my chest began to bulk up, to toughen. My arms, in answer, shriveled and wasted down to nothing. Eventually they simply shortened into stubs, then into lumps on my shoulders, and then into nothing. My spine stretched out, elongating my torso. My pelvic bone suddenly jutted out to the left and right, and my four legs quickly adjusted,
Three seconds to live.
My neck, with my spine, began to stretch up and out, and my face elongated. My jaw, as with the paramite morph, elongated a ridiculous amount, coming to a point—the part scrabs used to shish kebob mudokon meat. My eyes forced themselves closed, and they flattened into my skull, finally disappearing entirely.
Two seconds to live.
My already poor teeth become choppy and serrated, and my tongue disappeared entirely. Meanwhile, the scrab brain was starting up, and initiating all the basic instincts: PROTECT MY TERRITORY, EAT, and DANTE. As with the scrab, I was an overriding instinct that instructed the body what to do.
One second to live.
I heard the fierce cry of the last scrab standing. My scrab instinct kicked in.
A CHALLENGER? But this was MY TERRITORY. None shall CHALLENGE me on my own TERRITORY.
I raised my head into the storm (my scrab mind thought little of it, like “Oh, look, it’s raining … who cares?”) and screamed. This unlocked a fierce energy from somewhere below my stomach. It quickly spread into my legs, my chest, and especially in my mouth parts. THE SHREDDING POWER had been charged.
Zero seconds to live. Go time.
After a sudden burst of psychic clicking (scrab sonar), my brain had mapped out the entire area. Everything within a twenty yard radius was recorded into my mind. I saw every detail, but especially the forward progression of my CHALLENGER.
I launched myself at this foolish CHALLENGER, and the scrab in my mind suddenly knew all it needed to know to win. It could determine my/it’s opponent’s age, experience, speed, and stamina. I knew I was quicker, and could stab my jaw harder, but this guy had more fighting experience.
He was one me and I was on him. Legs stabbed out and tripped. Jaws struck out and stabbed. We danced around in a furor that separated us from everything. There could’ve been two thousand sligs pointing guns at us, and we wouldn’t have noticed. There could’ve been ten million slow, weak, and dying animals crawling about (and in a scrab’s mind, anything slow, weak, and/or dying may as well have had a big neon sign that read Come eat me! hanging over it’s head), and we wouldn’t have seen.
It was all him and me. I know that you might be thinking I’m going a bit overboard in describing this feeling of just me and my CHALLENGER, but I don’t think I’ve emphasized it enough. Hell, we could’ve been under water, in a desert, or in outer space for all we could tell.
We had been fighting off each other’s attacks for about three seconds when I saw an opening for a death-blow. Naturally, I took it. My jaw streamed forward into the chest of my foolish CHALLENGER, right where I knew his heart was. He wailed in agony, and it was a cry of DEFEAT. That sound was pure ecstasy to my scrab mind, and I relished it. With a cry of TRIUMPH, I began to dance on the carcass, ripping it apart and pulverizing it, preparing it for my scrab mouth.
It was time for me to EAT. And I had earned this meal.


I hope you enjoyed this chapter. More coming soon!

Hell yes I did enjoy it. Write another one.

Yessir, yessir. Another chapter, sir!

I wrote it in hopes it could be used in a witch's brew.

Chapter 19
I wanted to savor this, the thrill of killing my own meat, but the scrab in me instantly swallowed it. It wasn’t bad, but I think it would’ve been better if it was free of rocks and it wasn’t soggy from the rain. But hey, meat is meat.
After I ate, I allowed my scrab’s natural instincts to catch up with me; I had instantly gone into fight mode when I transformed. But now, I realized that, when unthreatened, a scrab is actually a pretty gentle beast. I’m sure you’ve all heard that they’d shred you to pieces as soon as look at you, but it is only because they think everything that isn’t a female scrab is a threat to their territory. So, they fight.
Scrabs enjoy the world around them uninhibited; they’re tough and they know it. They are usually very picky about their own territory, I learned, although they do not care who they kill to gain new land. They are usually content to just patrol around their land, uninterrupted. But may Odd help anyone they caught in their land uninvited (and that’s everyone).
Anyhow, I just sort of let the scrab do my thinking for a while. I was too exhausted to do anything in my mudokon body, and at least the scrab wasn’t bothered by the rain. So instead of controlling the scrab’s motion, I dug through the vault of instinct that lay in its mind (It didn’t occur to me until later that the paramite body likely had a trove of information of his own, much like this … but I couldn’t remember there be one). Specifically, I was trying to find out why there was a pack of scrabs meeting here in the middle of a thunderstorm …

Scrabs have an ingrained need to prove who is the grandest of them all, to see who is a true champion among them.
Thus, every fifty years, scrabs gather amongst themselves to fight it out. The time and place that the scrabs meet has always been different. Scrabs always know on their own when it is time to go and challenge other scrabs, and where they have to go.
There is not only one place where scrabs meet: there’s no way that every alpha male scrab on the planet can meet in one place.
The winning scrab claims his territory from all the slain scrabs, including the land and female scrabs.

… and that kinda explained it. I was satisfied, anyhow.
I took the reins again and tried to decide what was around me. The scrab in me had wandered quite a way while I was thinking.
The scrab had the same quasi-psychic sonar I found in the paramite, so I had to piece the pictures together. I had passed through the rainstorm (literally; the rain only fell up to a certain spot, and wouldn’t go past some invisible barrier), and was now headed toward some canyon-like trench. It was void of vegetation, but full of boulders. There were things that were probably tents scattered in the far corner.
Civilization! I could rest up a bit. I decided to return to my natural body. It took about three seconds of concentration before I popped back to mudokon. I clattered down the slope and into the canyon.
I was about halfway to the tents when I realized that it wasn’t a mudokon camp. I slowed down to a jog.
I was creeping around the first tent I had seen when I noticed it.
Let me point something out to you. Have you ever noticed that when you are living with something for a very long time, you start to ignore it? Well, I had one of those things: a constant whirr-whirr-whirring sound. I had grown up hearing that sound nearly all day, every day. So I had tuned it out after a while, taking it in as part of the background of life.
So when I heard this sound again, I had suddenly realized that it had been missing. And it reminded me of things I had put out of mind when I came to Rotag and started my quest. They were things I didn’t want to think about.
But I was on a quest. And if this was a part of it, then so be it.
Seriously, though. How could I have mistaken a slig camp for a mudokon village?

ooh... ermm... nice chapter..
*cant think of anything else to say to make Dave write another chapter...*

Heh, heh.
Esus, do not worry. Simple acknowledgement that it has been read makes me want to write another chapter.

But today I don't have one ready ... sorry, folks.

Probably Saturday. Maybe sooner. If I can find the time to write it.

Hey hey, it's Saturday!
And you know what that means, dontcha?
Why, its everybody's favorite Mudokon, Dante!
Let's see what that rascal gets himself into today!

Chapter 20
Okay, so I was standing around here, looking really foolish and out of place in a slig’s camp. I didn’t really want to know what they were doing all the way out here, but I figured I would probably end up finding it out, anyways.
I quickly looked around, taking in my surroundings. There were lots of pointed tents all out and about in what seemed to be a complete lack of a pattern. The tents looked to be made out of some kind of animal skin—probably paramite, perhaps scrab. A few campfires burned here and there, tended by sligs (which happened to be the only sligs in sight). They had meat roasting on sticks over the fire, and the smells that wafted my way were heavenly.
While I was busy admiring the culinary art of the sligs, I nearly didn’t notice that there were about seven slogs inching towards me, growling.
It was about then that I realized that this slig camp was from Tastee Treets, and it was out here to find me.
Alright.
I turned and ran. The slogs gave chase.
Friends, I wish that there was more to it than this, that I could make the story more dynamic. But, alas, it was as simple as I ran, they chased. At some point, I believe a slig noticed that I was loose, and signaled to his companions.
I was running when an idea
[VISION]
A lanky blue mudokon was darting along a dim, narrow hall in a large, metal room. Several slogs were on his trail. As he tore pat a sleeping slig, it stumbled to its “feet” and shouted “Freeze!” before giving chase. Eventually, the mudokon sees that there is an outcropping overhead, and he jumps for it, and pulls himself up and out of harms way. The slog leaps after him, but can’t reach. The slig isn’t quite sure what happened, or where the mudokon was. Meanwhile, the mudokon laughed to himself, turned, and walked away.
[/VISION]
suddenly occurred to me. I had to find a ledge or something that I could climb up on that the slog couldn’t climb and where the slig couldn’t shoot at me. Lucky for me that a slig can’t shoot and run at the same time.
I kept moving, keeping my eyes open for any possible escape routes. I passed a few ledges, but they looked crumbly and would probably be unreliable if I tried to climb them. But my patience was rewarded, and I saw a little indent in the side of the sloping edge of the valley. The only question was whether or not I could jump that high.
Well, it was do or die.
I ran for it, and when I was about three feet away I leapt up and raised my arms my momentum carried me forward and I was doing it by Odd I would make it and my fingers clawed into the rocks overhead and I slammed face-first into the wall. I hung there, stunned for a few seconds. The sound of slogs growling and barking got me moving, and I struggled to pull myself up and into the little crevice. I had made it out with literally inches behind my heels and the nearest slog’s muzzle. I could feel it breathing on my feet, eager to tear the flesh out of my legs.
I shuddered and tried not to picture that (and failed).
On my feet now, I took a closer look at my little sanctuary. It was a good five feet wide and seven feet high, and it wasn’t just a little indent in the wall.
It was a cave.
About now the (wheezing and out of breath) slig caught up, and started shooting. Naturally, I retreated into the depths of the cave, and was thankful to be out of the range of his gunfire.
Okay, so I had to think. What could I do to get out of here alive? I mean, I couldn’t very well possess that slig, since Orion never bothered to teach me how to do it. But if I decided that a paramite or scrab should come out of the cave, I would have been shot, anyways.
So, let’s go spelunking, eh?
I made my way through the dank cavern, keeping a hand on the wall all along. At least that way I wouldn’t double back, in case I was in a maze or something.
The only light in the cave came from behind me, at the entrance. And after about four minutes of walking, it was starting to fade. I got to a point where I was hardly able to see the hand in my face if I was looking for it. I was thinking about asking Patch for a paramite morph when I realized that I hadn’t even gotten to know the mudokon that had helped me with the scrab power.
I suddenly and completely forgot everything else I was doing, sat down, and thought, ‹Hey, where’s that mudokon that saved my life in the scrab fight?›
There was a brief silence, in which I felt as though someone was utterly confused by what I had said, and then I heard that familiar, high-pitched voice in my head. ‹Is that Mister Dante? Am I going crazy? Maybe he’s haunting me in my head!›
It was obvious he was thinking to himself, and I felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t going to hold it against me for forgetting about him after all.
‹Yes, it’s me,› I told him, ‹and I’m sorry for not getting in touch sooner. It sort of slipped my mind, what with turning into a scrab and all.›
He was astounded, and suddenly wanted to know about everything, so I retold my tale. He listened (or so it seemed; I just had this feeling in my gut) with fierce intensity, paying no attention to anyone around him. It was like telling a story to a little kid, I would reflect much, much later.
At last, I ended my story, and managed to squeeze a name out of him. He said his name was Nine, and he was thrilled to be able to say that he helped out Mister Dante and helped save his life, never mind that he had caught a cold from his brief moment in the rainstorm. I was starting to like this guy. He might not have been very bright, but he was shaping up to be a good friend. At least Patch hadn’t sent some jerk through.
At last I remembered that I had exploring to do, and said with real regret that I had to get going, and Nine more than sympathized; he said he was anxious to hear more stories about what kinds of adventures I had. We said our good-bys and good lucks, and I stood again and moved on down the hall.

About ten feet down I saw a torch. I was unimportantly sticking out of the rock wall, lighting the trail, and I knew that it meant something was living back here. Something at least quasi-intelligent.
Not expecting any sligs to have gotten up here—they can’t climb in those ridiculous Pants, of course—I continued, expecting to find some mudokon refugees camping out, or trying to plan a raid against the slig camp.
I stepped into a chamber that seemed to be special. I mean, it could’ve been the place where all life on Oddworld originated, for all I knew right then, because there were only a few things I saw then that were important.
There were a dozen sligs standing around when I walked in. They were all fully armed and looking pretty bored. When they heard me walk in, they turned and raised their weapons.
I looked around and was terrified. It seemed that my brain couldn’t decide on whether to run, scream, fight, or cry. But finally it made a decision.
Making a mental note to clean my loincloth later (if I lived), I raised my hands into the air, in a gesture of surrender.

*akknowledges story*
its still great.

Heh heh.
Thanks. I'll try to have a chapter tonight.

Sorry I'm late.

Here's your chapter. It comes out to $21.50.

Chapter 21
Okay. So there I was, facing certain death. The sligs had me outnumbered and surrounded, not to mention they had guns pointed directly at my head. I didn’t know how in the world they had gotten up here, but I supposed that I would in now way find out. Hell, I’d be lucky to get a word in.
Then, one slig seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He lowered his gun. By now I was shaking so badly that I didn’t realize this as some kind of good sign. Instead, I fell to my knees and started to babble and beg for mercy. I can remember snippets of what I said, but I don’t think any of it would be particularly … constructive. It detracts, you might say, from the eloquence I try to keep in my story.
But the point is, the sligs were no longer pointing guns at me. In fact, they were making welcoming gestures, as if I were some expected guest making a long overdue appearance at a gathering.
The sligs all gathered around me, as if they were little kids expecting a story. One slig, a particularly wiry one, at that, stepped forward, and put out his hand. I cringed away, on instinct, but when no blow came, I looked up.
“Hi!” He said simply. “Boy, are we glad to see you!”
I was more confused than ever. But they were sligs, and my inner slave was brought back to the surface.
“Before I show you around, I must apologize,” began the slig, who helped me stand up and put an arm around my shoulder to steady me. “Our welcome was most inhospitable. We have our guns constantly on the ready in case a slig from the enemy camp manages to find his way here.”
My head was swimming. “Enemy camp? You mean those tents outside?”
The slig nodded. It just occurred to me that this slig, nor any of the others, were wearing masks. I hadn’t ever seen a slig without a mask on, so I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t all that ugly. “Yes. We’ve been trying to think up a way to destroy their camp, as they have invaded our sanctum and driven us here. The few of us they didn’t squash first, that is.” He bowed his head, obviously remembering a long lost companion.
“But where are my manners!” he shouted suddenly, brightening up. “I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Benedict, and I am the Top Slig in this party.”
He went on to explain that they were sligs who managed to escape from their slig barracks at a young age, and therefore they were allowed to grow up into their own peaceful nature. The mechanical pants and guns they used were pilfered from the slig camp down below; they all agreed it made moving easier, and the guns made fine weapons. However, they had (thankfully, I thought) never had their nurturing nature beaten from them, and could hardly bring themselves to fight intruders. The sligs that came in were careless about any stealth they may have been expected to have, and among all sligs in the area, it was common knowledge that a mudokon renegade known as Dan T. was on the loose.
And these guys knew that I was that mudokon. Even with the name wrong. They knew of my escape from Tastee Treets, but nothing more.
“Wait a minute,” I said. This made no sense! “There were sligs who saw me shot and killed! My body was missing an arm, and it sank to the bottom of the river outside of Tastee Treets.”
Benedict sighed. “The sligs sent to capture you never made it back to the glukkon offices. It was assumed you killed them, and then got away. They were given your location by a small tribe of mudokons that you had encountered soon after your escape. From what I hear, a mud by the name of Ryan was tortured into divulging the information.” Benedict said the word tortured with a definite tinge of anger, and I knew instantly that I could trust his word.
But had I met a mudokon named Ryan? I didn’t think so. I’d figure it out later. For now, though …
“Okay then, Benedict,” I started, “what are you so excited to see me for?”
Benedict’s eyes shone, and he spoke in a hurried way, as if I would interrupt him or call him crazy for making such a proposition.
“We are going to sneak out to the top of the valley and knock as many boulders as possible down the side to crush the tents and kill the invaders!”
I took three seconds to think
[VISION]
I was sitting in Orion’s hut, listening to him speak.
“Your fourth trial will be in Theaw. Your physical strength will be key here, as boulders fill the land, slowing your progress.”
[VISION]
of a response when I decided I would help.
“I know for a fact that there are enough boulders relatively nearby. But I have a small question to ask of you ….”
Benedict, possibly afraid I would decline to help if he refused to answer, was suddenly attentive. “Go on.”
I reached up and scratched the back of my head, just under the base of my feathers. “Are there any … peculiar totem poles around here? I was hoping to find one for my quest, and—”
Benedict looked suddenly relieved. “Oh, sure! We have two of them, in fact! Come down back, I’ll show you!”
I thanked him and followed Benedict down a corridor in the back of the cavern that I hadn’t noticed sooner, most likely because it was concealed by the flickering shadows caused by the torchlight.
As we walked, I tried to remember if I ever met a mudokon named Ryan. I mean, the muds weren’t from Oblim, because Patch and Nine would’ve both sent me some kind of message. So, it was Rotag. But, who did I know from—
ORION!

Chapter 22
This wasn’t good at all. Now, not only did I have brothers to save in the factory, but I have a village to liberate on the way back! I could only hope Orion was okay.
But right now I had another duty to fulfill: I had promised my help to these sligs. Benedict led me through the dark and into a small chamber. In it, there were two scraggly-looking totem poles. They looked as if they had been hurriedly yanked out of their original posts and replanted here. In any case, they were in rough shape, but I knew that they were genuine. Call it a hunch.
One totem had the unmistakable mug of a slog carved up and down it. There was even drool coming over the lips of the mouths. The second totem was simpler: it bore a remarkable resemblance to a slig riding the back of a meech. His head was to the sky, and the meech was reared back onto its hind legs. It was simply astounding.
Benedict was observing my wonder with delight. “Yes, we found these out in the village. When the invading sligs attacked, we had to preserve their beauty. They were obviously crafted by a wise and wonderful race.”
I only half heard him. I was removing my earring and moving up to the totems. Benedict didn’t seem to notice what I was doing. I approached the slog pole first, and placed the earring carefully into the mouth of the mouth at eye level.
For a second, I could swear the mouth was about to slam down on my wrist, removing my hand and swallowing the earring. But that turned out to just be the flickering light again. About now, Benedict had come up behind me, and asked what I was doing.
So, I told him. It still hadn’t occurred to me that he could be a spy, and I wouldn’t put it past the sligs to do something like this.
“I use this earring to transform into animals, and it helps me navigate through tough situations.” I said it as though it was no big deal, but Benedict was astounded. He obviously didn’t believe me.
And to confirm my suspicions: “I don’t believe it.”
I shrugged. “Hold on a sec, okay?”
I called up Patch and asked for the paramite morph. He happily obliged, and I began to chant. It was the second time I had done it, and expected to go through the entire physical switch. Instead, I felt my body … deflate. It was like I was a balloon slowly emptying of air. And with no warning—poof! I was a paramite.
Benedict watched this all with dumb surprise. I could no longer determine his expression, but I could pick up on the vibes he was giving off. Kind of how some animals can smell fear. He was definitely and completely surprised.
I figured I had proven it, and popped back over to my mudokon body.
Benedict was speechless. I grinned.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some help.” I turned back to the totem.
‹Patch, it’s me again. Can you do me a favor?›
Silence. I think Patch may have been eating lunch or something; that’s the feeling I got, anyway. Then: ‹Sure, Dante. What’s up?›
‹I need you to send me two guys for the Flash power. I’m getting a slog and a slig morph.›
I sensed Patch coughing on something, and then heard him say, ‹Okay, Dante, sure. That’s a bit … odd. Slog and slig morphs? I mean, yeah, Haste and Branch, but … What good will they do?›
I did a mental eye-roll (or at least I made it clear that I was annoyed by Patch’s ignorant question). ‹Dude, in the factory, don’t you think it would be sweet if I could sneak around and get information?›
Realization crept into Patch’s mind. ‹Oh, yeah. Gimme minute, okay?›
I thanked him and went to the slig totem. It struck me again how beautifully crafted it was. I thought it was amazing how a creature I had grown to associate with hate, anger, and malice could be made to look so pure. I reached up and stuck the earring into the sligs outstretched hand. The dull flash came again, and I again thought that the totem was moving. The hand looked like it was coming forward to grab my face. But the fear passed, and I was calm again.
Benedict found his voice. “That’s … amazing. Really.”
About then, I heard a quiet voice singing, and the flutter of wings. I turned to my left, and saw that same tear in the air. Two mudokons from the village of Oblim came hopping through. One was really tall, and had bluish-white skin and drooping green feathers. The other was shorter, and a bit on the chubby side. His skin was a greenish brown, and his feathers were a dark red.
“Hello!” I said.
“Hello!”
“Hi!”
The two muds looked around, and when they saw Benedict, they began to freak out. They were about to turn and jump back through when I spoke. “Relax! He’s cool.”
The two muds stopped, and I continued. “Well, guys, I’m Dante. You guys wanna introduce yourselves?”
They realized I was that Dante, and suddenly they forgot all about Benedict.
“I’m Aaron!” said the mud with the green feathers.
“And I’m Altus!” was red-head’s introduction.
In tandem: “And we’re …”
The two of them struck a ridiculous pose. Aaron stuck his fists into the air, and did a semi-split. Altus kneeled on his right knee, and pumped his fist downward.
“… The Terrible Twosome!”
I groaned inwardly. Of all the guys Patch could get, I get these clowns.
Ignoring their cheering and whooping, I continued. “I need each of you to reach out and touch one of these totems. It may sting, but it’s gonna be fine.”
The two muds shouted in joy, turned, and froze. They hadn’t noticed the totem poles yet. They were as struck by their detail as I had been.
“What, uh, what do they do?” Aaron asked, a little uneasily.
“When you’ve touched the poles, we will be able to communicate telepathically. And, if I ask for it, you need to give me the power to morph into either a slog or a slig, depending on which pole you touch. Get it?”
Aaron and Altus got it. They each grabbed a pole—Aaron the slog, Altus the slig—and they cried out in pain. It must’ve been brief, because they were soon hooting and hollering again. Teenagers at a party, it sounded like.
Oh, jeez.


Ha! No witty commentary! You deserve no witty comentary!

It's the Son of the Return of the Revenge of the Spawn of Dante's Oddysee!
This time ...
... It's peronal.

Chapter 23

So I sent Aaron and Altus back through the gate, and turned my attention back to Benedict.
“Alright, dude, I have a plan. We’re going to get your settlement back, and here’s how … ready?”
Benedict nodded. He couldn’t verbalize anymore, after seeing that. It occurred to me that sligs don’t really know anything about mudokon powers …
I cut to the chase and explained my plan to Benedict. While he relayed the plan to the others, I made a call to Altus. Then I began to transform.
My back narrowed, and my torso shortened. My arms became scraggly and weak. Even my fingers narrowed, and a fourth finger sprouted out of the side of my palm. About then my legs gave out, and I fell onto my face.
This was when Benedict and several other sligs walked back in to the chamber. I think they screamed, but I didn’t spend any more attention on them. I was transforming still, and had to focus.
My legs were gone now, and my upper lip was … melting or something. It was almost like the paramite transformation; fingers were growing out of my mouth. My jaw kinda … disappeared, or something. It just stopped being there; apparently sligs made all their sounds with their mouth-fingers.
My eyes stretched out, and my vision blurred for a moment, and then I was seeing not only in front of me, but to the sides and almost behind me, too. It’s weird to explain, and hard to imagine unless you’ve seen that way before.
My skin suddenly burnt and wrinkled, and got brown and charred. I was officially a slig. My mind suddenly filled up with the natural instincts of the common, free slig. I felt nurturing, careful, and very weary. I was filed with the urge to carry rocks around and build a shelter. But, since I had a mission to accomplish, my mudokon mind had to overpower. And it was pretty easy.
I noticed abruptly that Benedict was indeed screaming, and I think he was coming at me with a club or something.
“Hold it!” I shouted in my new, gruff slig voice. I instantly decided it rocked, and I would have to use it as much as possible. “It’s cool, I’m Dante! The mudokon!”
Benedict stopped short. “Uh … Dante? As in the mudokon that I just left two minutes ago?”
“YES!” I shouted. “Now I suggest we get this plan rolling.”
Benedict cleared his throat, and nodded. He went and got me a slig mask, as was planned. He helped me put it on, and I thanked him, and took off.
I crawled out of the room and back up the tunnel to the cave entrance. I tried to listen for any slig pants. And, even though the mask covered up a lot of sounds, and accounting for the slig’s already poor hearing, I heard no whirring pants.
I carefully crawled down from the ledge, grasping onto loose rocks and gravel. That was my first mistake: grabbing loose rocks left me slipping down the slope.
But, it did attract some attention. A slig was on duty about twenty feet away. He heard me with no trouble (his mask looked very cool, and it was a lot better than mine, so I felt a little jealous). He turned and raised his gun. “Freeze!” he shouted, but then he saw it was a pants-free slig lying around. He shook his head in disgust and lowered his weapon.
Time to roll.
“Hi. I was trying to climb up there and spy on the refugees, but I slipped.”
He strolled over to me, and smacked me across the face. “Buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but if you think that …” Realization crept across his face, and he smacked the side of his head (the equivalent of a mudokon slapping his forehead when he realizes something obvious that he had overlooked earlier). “Why didn’t anyone think of that? If we had some of us climb up that shelf without pants … and then … Come on, buster. We gotta go see Cosmo.”
I had no idea who Cosmo was, but I had to play along if I didn’t want to raise suspicion. “Sounds like a plan, Stan, but—”
“It’s Rubb, buster.”
“Right, sorry, Rubb. But, what I was saying was can you get me some pants? And maybe a gun?”
Rubb nodded and patted me on the shoulder. “No sweat, buster. Come on.”
He led me towards the camp, but we had to be sneaky; no one would like to see me.
“You new around here, buster?” Calling me Buster was getting annoying, but I shouldn’t argue … ugh. “I’ve been here since the camp settled. You come in with last weeks recruits?”
I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me from this angle, and then spoke. “Yeah. Name’s Branch.”
Rubb chuckled. “Branch, eh? Well, let’s get you prettied up for the Boss, okay?”
I was down with that.

Hey! T-nex here!!! I'm back for more reading :) I'm sooooooooooo sorry for not posting lately, but... well i never had the time... Please comtinue your story! I love it!! I really do.

GO DAVE! GO DAVE!

Hooray!
Someone took the hint!
Now that someone has answered, I will appease the masses with a new chapter before the week is over.

YIIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!1!!11!!! CHAPTERS FOR ME ONLY ME!!

Sorry I'm late. I wrote it yesterday, but forgot to post it. I'm so absent-minded.

Anyhow, I'd like to formally dedicate this chapter to T-Nex. :)

Chapter 24
So the guy takes me back to a tent and hooks me up with some pants and a gun. My natural slig instinct was disgusted by the feel and the weight of the thing in my hands, but the feeling of wearing pants was oddly … satisfying. Empowering. In any case, I liked it.
“Hey, Rubb,” I asked, casually. This I had to know, because if I was wrong, my plan would look ridiculous. “Don’t we have any flying harnesses?”
Rubb grunted. “No. Vladimir won’t rent them out anymore. Only on-site sligs can use them.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I tried to sound genuinely disgusted, but I had trouble masking my relief.
Afterward, he led me to the Boss’s tent. Inside, a large glukkon stood over a table, reading documents and grunting audibly from behind a smoldering cigar stump.
“Hey, Boss!” Rubb announced our presence, and the old glukkon looked up. His face was worn and wrinkled, and a long scar trailed from the corner of his left eye down to the left corner of his mouth. His lower lip was almost nonexistent—he had a terrible overbite. The collar to his suit was raised annoyingly in an Elvis-like fashion (I use a reference you humans should understand). His suit was a double breasted, solid black. His blood red necktie was tucked in under the folds of the coat, covering a small portion of the otherwise exposed dirt-brown shirt underneath. I couldn’t see his shoes from the other side of the desk, but I was willing to bet that they were very fancy.
“Yes?” Cosmo asked in a somewhat charming voice (charming maybe to my slig ears, but my mudokon mind found it nerve-grating).
“Boss, this new guy thought up a clever plan for infiltrating the refugee camp.”
Cosmo’s jaw dropped … and so did his cigar. But he didn’t notice. He fixed his stare on me, and looked remarkably eager to hear the details.
“Really? What’s your name, slig?”
I croaked out, “Branch, sir.”
“Well, Branch! If this plan of yours works, there’s a promotion in store for you!”
I decided I’d better look excited, and it wasn’t too hard. I was, in reality, excited that the plan was going off with no trouble, and so it was reflected on my face.
I went through the plan as rehearsed.
“Well, sir, I figure we climb the wall without pants, and have them hoisted up to us at the cave entrance. Since we don’t have access to flying harnesses, this is a logical solution. As for the layout of the cave, I don’t know what to expect. But, if we strike all at once, there should be no trouble.”
Cosmo seemed to consider. Then … “Brilliant! Branch, you are hereby promoted to …” he faltered a moment. “Eh, what’s your rank, slig?”
I was stunned. Rank? The only slig rank I knew about was bouncer … but they didn’t carry guns. So …
“Bouncer, sir.”
Cosmo surprised me by nodding. “Very well, you are herby promoted to Slig Worker Elite!”
I sensed Rubb wincing next to me; it was obvious that I now outranked him.
“Rubb! Bring this fine Slig to the armory and get him suited up!”
Rubb grunted. “… yes, sir.”
I grinned a slig grin—the outermost tentacles on my face curled up, and the remaining tentacles drooped straight down. “Thank you, sir!”
“And gentlesligs, I will be issuing a command for the entire regiment to gather for briefing in ten minutes. Branch, I expect to see you on the podium!”
I saluted with the slig salute I had seen so many times in the factory: Left hand out, perpendicular to my torso, then pulled it up to my forehead, palm faced out.
As we walked out, I could swear I heard Cosmo mutter, “If only all sligs showed that much respect …”

Ta daa!

WEEEEE!! CHAPTER FOR ME! ME HAPPY! ME WANT MORE!!!

Keep it up :p

How do u have timer to write all of this it is incredible.

Great storyline!


MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE

Hey! New Fan!
Well, seeing as how I am now officially on summer vacation, (and finals are over!) I can get back to work on this.
New chapter in the next few days.

>Yes.. We are waiting for your precious and awesome chapters!!!! MORE MORE!! ME DIE WITHOUT CHAPTERTS!!! AAAAA!!

Let me define "a few days."
When I said a few days before, I intended for it to mean two or three days.
But it turns out that "a few days" is, in reality, fifteen days! Whaddya know?
Anywho, the long-awaited return of Dante's Oddysee!

Chapter 25

So, it was off to the armory. Bingo.
Once inside, Rubb outfitted me with all the bells and whistles. Blitzpacker, extra-industrial strength armor, infrared goggles, and the finest Pants a slig could hope to wear.
Something in my slig mind felt calm … elated. I think back now, and think that the slig in me was enjoying this power, this sense of control, this knowledge that I could take a life with such little effort.
But … not quite yet. There was a plan to consider.
So, casually, as Rubb was fastening the back of my armor, I asked him: “Do we have any grenades lying around?”
Rubb shrugged. “Well, duh. This is the armory, right? Hang on, I’ll find you a grenade launcher.”
Meanwhile, I heard the PA blare to life overhead. The whine was immense, but it soon passed, and Cosmo’s voice was broadcast across the valley.
Exactly as planned. My reinforcements knew this as the sign to prepare.
Rubb came up with a small harness. It looked like a flying slig harness, but with no propellers.
“Okay, Branch, I’ll clip this to your back, then I’ll show you how to work it.” He continued to speak as he hooked it up. “Its design is based on a slig’s flying harness, as I am sure you’ve noticed. There is a little button on your right hand to fire the grenades, which I will wire into your palm. Your left hand will have a dial that controls the distance it will be thrown.
“There is a failsafe, of course, in case you fire by accident: you’ll need to pull a lever on the harness in order for the grenades to fire when you press the trigger. The lever, you’ll notice—” he rattled a lever on my left side “—is right here.”
Rubb stood up and admired his work. Then, he attached a screen over my eyepiece.
“When the grenades are armed, this screen will activate. You’ll see crosshairs and readings to determine the point of impact. It takes some getting used to, so be careful not to blow yourself up.”
When he was done, I was a regular sized slig wearing two layers of armor, a grenade harness, carrying a Blitzpacker, and wearing blazing red eyepieces.
Pretty sweet.
But now I had to eliminate Rubb. He had seen me come out of the cave, and already suspected me a little.
But it had to look like an accident.
Rubb decided it would be okay for him to take a bigger gun for himself while I was admiring my new suit. I noticed, of course. I slowly and carefully pulled the small lever on my side, arming the grenade launcher. The screen on my eyepiece flashed on, and I saw green crosshairs in the center of my vision. A reading on the left told me how far away it was aiming. I figured Rubb was a good ten feet away. Well within range.
Rubb turned to me carrying a large gun. It was no Blitzpacker, but it was still impressive. “You ready to go onstage?” he asked.
“You bet.” Good. My nervousness wasn’t showing in my voice. “Hey, uh, Rubb, how exactly did you say I fired grenades? My mind is slippery this morning.”
Distractions. I was turning the dial to adjust my aim.
Rubb sighed. “Dude, you have to arm it by pulling the lever, and then push the button on your hand.”
“Oh, so I, like, make a fist?” Almost time.
“Yeah, but be careful. If you don’t pull the failsafe, there’s a one in twenty chance the grenade will detonate in your harness.”
Gee, if he had told me sooner, I thought. Still, it was good to know.
“Anyways, Branch, we’d better get moving.”
I nodded. “You bet.”
I flashed a thumbs up in his direction. My fingers pressed the button with liquid ease.
I heard a small pop, and watched Rubb’s slig face drop in horror.
I saw a grenade launched from over my head. It flew silently towards Rubb, who was too shocked to react. When he caught on, he turned and uttered a small cry (it may have been him calling for help).
But the grenade landed at the bottom of his pants. It exploded on impact.
Twisted metal and hunks of meat ripped away from the spot of the explosion. Rubb’s new gun clattered to my feet in a twisted, broken heap.
I laughed.
This was going to be interesting.

I think Dante's Oddysee is really good

Well, thanks!
Today's Wednesday, so ...
I'll have a chapter out by Sunday. For real.

Whoa!!! It's awesome! You got a new fan!!!

*sits anxiously in the chair and will not move until next monday*

you'll have to move, to go to the toilet.