The change of scenery I promised. As for Drog's involvement in Vula's life, well, we'll see. Uhm. Next chapter! O:
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Vula's Oddysee
By Lacy Hemsmire
It's said that once you open up a can of Slurgs, it's too late. A bit like closing your eyes and walking off into a pit. Vula had no idea that she had done so. It was a subtle action, but it had caught the attention of another and now it was far too late to go back.
Said 'another' was a Glukkon by the name of Pox. Pox was known for his sharp eyes - he could spot a deal anywhere. And he had spotted something. He, too, had noticed something peculiar about one of the Mudokon slaves and it had only taken him a glance to figure it out. He was unlucky enough to have seen Sam, the Mudokon queen at least a dozen ties in his life, and he knew one of those slaves was female.
And yet, another had taken notice of her. Drog was downright determined that that Mudokon should be watched. He didn't want anything to happen to her - as new as he was, reporting her meant a potential promotion and some social standing among the other sligs. He couldn't have anyone else watch her at all - if anyone else saw her, his chances were through. He was almost certain the Mudokon was female.
Over time, Vula found that one by one, the other Mudokons drifted away from her. It could've been that she was a source of trouble. Every time she was around, something bad always happened to them. Vula was temporarily unable to do anything stupid - and she'd have to wait until just the right moment before trying anything new. But how could she make plans if the other Mudokons wouldn't listen to her?
Drog had placed himself in one corner and was snoozing out of view of the cameras. They hadn't spoken, and Vula wasn't about to open her mouth and get a nice bashing with a rifle butt. She crept closer to him, vaguely wondering where his buddies had gone. They'd disappeared for some reason. He had a slog with him, which was also snoozing.
She didn't know how long she remained there until in the corner of her eye, something peculiar approached. He was tiptoeing in a very comical manner, and she couldn't help but peer over. The Mudokon looked odd compared to her, a different shade. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked rather tired. As he grew closer, he initiated eye contact with her. There was something urgent about his demeanor, and Vula stared at him.
His skin color, to her surprise, was bright blue. There was something oddly familiar about him, and Vula cocked her head to mouth the name hanging on her lips.
"Hi," he whispered, gesturing frantically towards himself. She cast a glance at Drog and the slog before quietly sneaking after him. He brought her around the corner, where she spotted something that made her heart leap. "Follow me!"
Birds. Small birds, cluttered near the wall. Their eyes on the Mudokon before her. The stranger began to chant, pressing his palms together and focusing. The birds took flight, spiraling and forming a perfect circle. What seemed to be pure energy began to envelope them, and the birds themselves disappeared into it, forming a thin, bright white sliver, as though the air itself had been ripped in two. So this was the terrorist Abe. Now it was time to get out of here. The other Mudokons had apparently gone elsewhere - or through the portal.
Drog grunted, lifting his head at the shimmer of light nearby. When he realized everyone was gone, he urged Sooz upward and sprinted around the corner, weapon at the ready.
Vula hesitated, at least until she turned to see Drog and the slog charging at her. Abe was too busy concentrating on what he was doing. Vula bounded into the portal, but apparently, Drog didn't feel like letting her escape. He vaulted himself into the portal as well, slog right behind him - just as it closed. Abe shook his head, rubbing his temples.
"Oh man, they're gonna kill me for that," he hissed. It was too late to do anything about it now. With luck, the slig would be killed before they reached the Monsaic Lines.
--
Somewhere far away, the world was silent. There was no rumbling of machinery, no smell of pollution. No grime covering the ground. The sky was no longer black. In fact - there was no sky at all - at least, what could be seen. It was like a massive cave. The entire world seemed to be shades of green. The air was fresh, cool, and pleasing. What few sounds there were came in the form of birds and, very faintly, some kind of moaning, as though something were calling to the gods. There was dense foliage, moss, and soft dirt covering the ground. For a moment, there was a pause. Then, as though the air itself had been torn apart, a sliver of light appeared very close to one of the walls. The three figures landed in a tangled heap on the ground.
Vula's instincts kicked in and she scrambled away from them, desperately getting to her feet. The slog had rolled onto its feet and stumbled forward, roaring, towards her. Drog suddenly perked up. Not his investment!
"'Ey, Sooz! Back off!"
The slog skidded to a halt, trembling with anger and need, still snarling viciously at Vula, snarls laced with loud whimpers. Drog pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his weapon.
"If ye run, I ain't gonna stop 'er."
Vula froze, staring at the slig. "Why'd you call it off?"
"'Cause," he replied coolly, checking the gas gauge on his pants. "Can't have my investment gettin' away."
"Investment?" Vula trembled, keeping her eyes on the slog. Her ankles were beginning to hurt from so much tension.
"I know yer secret, slave," he said, "And I ain't about t' just let yers run off to yer native friends."
Then Drog did a strange thing. He reached behind his head to a buckle on his mask, and released it. The heavy mask dropped to the floor. He peered upward, then around, lungs quite unused to the clean, fresh air. He choked, and gasped for air. "Ho-- hack.. uh." He caught his breath, glaring sidelong at Vula, who was staring at him. "What?"
She blinked, tilting her head. "You... are the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she confessed. "So what's your name, if you're going to turn me in."
"I know right?" he replied easily. "Don't have one."
"Then your name is... Drog. It rhymes with slog, so it should fit."
The newly-christened Drog glared daggers at her, but something deep inside of him gave a twinge of delight. He had been named. It was a strange feeling.
A shrill whistle interrupted them. The three of them scooted closer together, whimpering as around them, Mudokons unlike anything they had ever seen approached them. They had the typical skin color, but they were covered head to toe with various tattoos and other markings. And they looked rather angry.
There were many more whistles, as the Mudokons seemed to be communicating.
"What are they saying?" Drog hissed. He raised his hands into the air, dropping his beloved weapon.
"I don't know!" she hissed in reply. "How should I - "
One of the Mudokons stepped forward. The feathers on his head were very dramatic, but not overdone. He spoke, but no longer was he speaking in the musical tone of before.
"We could tolerate another one of you slaves, " he growled. "But when you bring a disgusting soldier from the other side... it is an insult!"
The crowd of tribal Mudokons began to mutter something, stepping closer, and it was then that Vula, terrified, pulled herself to her feet. "Wait!" Vula fought for words. "He's ...er..." She glanced over at him, then back at the others. A plan began to form in her mind. "He's with me!"
Behind her, slig and slog huddled together, both of them humiliated and outraged at their vulnerability. Sooz, terrified into bravery, began to slobber and growl, trembling with rage and defense of its friend. The Mudokons' whispering grew louder and more frantic.
"Nice one," Drog muttered, "Now they're gonna kill all of us."
But then, they fell silent at once. Instead, someone else appeared. At first, they thought he might have been a moving tree, but as the crowd parted they realized what it was. Vula, who had never seen him before, felt a stirring somewhere within her, and she dropped to her knees. The other Mudokons, who had backed away, had done the same. The masked shaman raised his staff, muttering some incantation as he waved it over the three. Only the slog continued to growl beneath him. But it was very quiet and fringed with a whimper.
There was silence. Big Face lowered his head - or face - over Vula, who averted her gaze and did nothing. The silence was so thick that everyone thought it might burst.
"I've been expecting you." Around them, a gasp filtered through the crowd of Mudokons. "Stand up. Bring your friends."
"We're not her f-", Drog started to interject, but then he decided silence was probably the best way out of he wanted to survive.
The aggression did not vanish entirely as they stood. It was replaced with a grudging respect. Those Mudokons would've them hadn't the Big Face shown up. Sooz had already been standing and Drog knew he'd run out of gas in his pants soon. Both of them remained very close to Vula and attempted to ignore the surrounding tribe members. Sooz was very close to Drog, and he tried not to trip over her.
Vula and the others followed Big Face through what seemed like a cave. In fact, they were not in a forest of all, but an intricately carved cave. The three of them stared with open mouths as one by one the tribal Mudokons fell away. Big Face paused at a hut. It was woven tightly with reeds and moss, it seemed, and had a very earthy smell to it. There was a large hole at the top, and smoke billowed out of it. It smelled peculiar but was not in any way harmful. Drog sneezed, and hesitated. The shaman urged him on, and after a moment he crawled inside with the rest of them.
Vula was terrified and excited to be one of the freed slaves. Drog didn't really care either way for the huge caverns, but he was too wise to rebel. And Sooz was only gaping because closing her mouth for extended periods of time grew tiresome. She was excited by all of the new smells, even though she was hungry.
"You are one of many slaves that have come here from Rupture Farms. I imagine you have never seen a place like this... Vula?"
Vula gulped. "...No... I haven't." She didn't ask how he knew her name. Instead, she asked. "Why were you expecting me?"
"Not now. First you must rest. Normally we do not take kindly to Industrial types.." He eyed the slog and slig. "But we do understand honor. Your friends will be under constant surveillance, but you will be rested with the other slaves until morning. Now then."
There was no order given. A heavily tattooed Mudokon stepped inside. He was stocky, particularly compared to the rest of the undernourished Mudokons, and looked downright intimidating. He looked serious, and made no eye contact. Vula followed him outside, but as soon as Sooz and Drog followed, their path was blocked. Two Mudokons stood in their way, spears intentionally separating Mudokon from Slig.
"No industrials beyond THIS point," came the hissing reply of one of the guards.
Vula stared helplessly at Drog, but he didn't look at her. His attention was focused on the slog, who had completely forgotten about the Mudokons and was exploring every inch of the small hut.
The tattooed guard huffed noisily. Twitching, Vula sighed and turned after him. She didn't get a chance to check on the two who had somehow become her 'friends' in the span of a few moments.
She was led down into another cave. It was lit by strange and glowing patterns in the rocks and Vula was eager to learn what these were. But he was moving much too quickly, and she had to practically jog to keep up with him. The passageway opened up into a massive area. It was warm, humid, and Vula inhaled deeply. She felt somewhat strange - as though she were experiencing deja vu. But it was different somehow.
"What is this place?" she asked him, gesturing to the massive room. The Mudokon kept going, down another tunnel, until it opened out into a larger area. They were no longer within a cave - color was draining from the sky overhead, nightfall on its way.
"It was where we once kept our queen," he said.
Vula hugged her shoulders and sighed.
"This is the Sanctum. The new arrivals sleep here until we are able to find them a place to stay." He then turned and left.
Inside the dimly lit room, Vula saw that there were at least a dozen other Mudokons in the room - at least on the ground level. Above them, there were others meditating, chanting to platforms were lifted up over their heads - this was some kind of meeting place.
"Hey!" someone shouted. Vula's head snapped and she stared into the face of someone vaguely familiar. Her eyes widened. "T-Tom?"
Tom grinned at her, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at her.
"What happened to your stitches?"
"In the flesh. Got 'em out about a week ago," he replied. "How've you been since we last met?"
"G-great," she stammered. Tom was one of the first Mudokons to be freed - a long time ago, and she was glad to see him again.
"Come on," he said, "There's a place to sleep over this way."
All around her, the other Mudokons appeared quite happy in their mingling, some of them waving to her as she passed. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of freedom, and a terrible fear of falling asleep. What if she woke up, and it was only a dream?
However, not long after they'd settled, the strange feeling of deja vu overtook her and she slumped into a deep sleep.
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