Dante's Oddysee

[Dave]

This is my first fic on the site. It's about a Mud slave named Dante. The prolougue is here ... and it may sound a tinsy bit like Abe's at the beginning ... but this isn't a take off on AO! I promise!

Prologue

I stood (dangled, rather) over a trapdoor. What lay below it I could only imagine. I felt horrified at my misfortune. The similarity to Abe’s predicament years ago was uncanny. My arms were tied up above me so I couldn’t chant or move around (oh, please, I’d be shot if I even tried). But I had screwed up … I still couldn’t stop thinking like a slave. I stood silent, not daring to even cough. I felt as if even a blink would bring instant death. I could only await the final word from the boss, Vladimir.
“Well, boss?” his slig crony grunted, “What d’ya say? Drop ‘im?”
Vladimir stood tall. He was at least seven feet high. His plum-colored suit made his shoulders jut out to violent points. I risked craning my neck upward to see what sort of expression he wore. His eyes glowing a malicious red, he shifted the butt of the cigar from the left of his mouth to the right. This was a habit of his I had come to recognize as his being in deep thought. Sure. What could he be thinking? Just another expendable mudokon; waste him.
But I found myself surprised at what he said. “Okay, maggot,” he began in his falsely soothing voice, “why don’t you tell me what you thought you were doing. In ten words or less. If you can even speak properly,” he added as an after thought. He and the slig were amused by this, and chuckled a bit.
I tried not to look shocked. In my creaky voice, and through my haphazardly sewn lips, I whispered, “I wanted to save my brothers from your wicked plans. Sir,” I quickly added, lest he order me killed for insubordination.
Vladimir raised an eyebrow (kinda; glukkons have no eyebrows) and shifted his cigar again. Those good old lungbusters; never a gluk without one. “Really? What ‘wicked plans’ are you talking about, fag? What have you heard?”
I swallowed. “I am allowed to speak freely, then, sir?”
Vladimir looked peeved, but answered. “Fine. Go on.”
I cleared my throat; some lengthy talking would be required. “I was in the stockyards of Zulag Four, feeding the flits to the slogs and friets, when a few sligs marched up to me and started to drag me off.”
“Is there a point to this, you cunt?” the glukkon spat.
I gasped and stuttered. “Y-yes, y-yes there is, s-sir. I-I j-just feel it necessary t-to tell you what h-h-happed prior to th-the incident. I-is that fine, sir?”
The glukkon looked ready to spit. “Fine.”
After trying to straighten myself out, I began again. “They … they dragged me to the room where the animals are prepared to be chopped. I thought that I was being reassigned … but it turns out I was the one being cooked. Apparently, you glukkons were looking for a money-saving way to get food for the other working mudokons. Anything to save a buck or two, of course, so—“
The slig abruptly stepped forward and smacked me across the face. I decided I shouldn’t complain about the frugality of the glukkons.
“Well, as the sligs tried to ‘sedate’ me, I felt the urge to fight back. My captors were unarmed, so I had and advantage, what with mudokons being both genetically stronger and with my frequent … heavy labor.”
I braced myself for another blow; the thought of pissing off an important glukkon in my final hours had its merits. But no blow came; they seemed to agree, and so I continued.
“I left the two guards lying on the ground, writhing, and ….”
Now I had to think. Should I got into detail about my little adventure outside? Or skip it?
Well, in either case, it is safe to tell you about it.

[Dave]

Well ... questions? Comments? Complaints? Confessions? Anything?

I'll post the next chapter when it's done.

=^Dave

[Dave]

Huzzah! The first chapter!
Bust alas! Not a comment?
But the forums say BerserkerSlig answered, yet I see nothing ...
Ah, well! Let the chapter be!

And so it was.

Chapter 1

“Wake up, you f*ing idiots! We have a schedule to keep!”
This magnificently friendly wake-up call from our resident greeter was written into its unique programming, so it was always the first thing we hear in the morning. It wheeled on down the halls, squeaking and creaking, awaking grumpy mudokons at five in the morning. And, of course, after hitting the sack at two the previous night, who wouldn’t be up and ready to go to a long, grueling day of heavy labor? Certainly not me.
On a side note, the glukkons decided at some point that they did, after all, need to do something about their exhausted workers … they weren’t working! So they paid the vykkers (as little as possible) to see how little the mudokons needed to sleep while still being able to operate as they would after a full night of sleep. The vykkers found that the mudokons need at least four hours of sleep to operate. That was too much wasted time, so glukkons gave us three and order Expresso! (at the lowest possible price) to make up for the lost time.
Uh-oh! Alarm! Get out of the rooms fast! If we didn’t, our doors were bolted shut automatically and the room was filled with poison gas—trapdoors would fall and our corpses would fall down chutes to the furnace. We are oh so efficient here at the factory.
So out I went. Step into the hall. Left face, march! Left, right, left, right, one, two, one, two.
We lined up in front of our slig supervisor, Yarnis. In his monotone voice, he repeated the same thing we’d all heard every day for our entire lives. “Okay worms, come pick up your stuff. I’ll cut each of you off at the right spot, so that the right number of people are assigned to each job.”
I, personally, was amazed that the slig could count correctly. There were two hundred and fifty of us all working throughout the whole factory; never more, never less. There are ten Zulags, each separated into five sections, and about five mudokons assigned to each zulag.
Zulag One was the food preparation zulag. All of the food we made here at Tastee Treets is processed here. Mudokons here have it the easiest: follow the cooking directions on the meat charts. In Zulags Two, Three, and Four, we keep all of the stock animals. Sikz and burrs in two, jyggs and meeps in three, slogs and friets in four, where I was assigned. Zulag Five handled sales, Six is mudokon living quarters, Seven is slig quarters. Zulag Eight housed all the rations for the workers (it was a very small Zulag). Zulag Nine held the Boardrooms, where the glukkons met to discuss profits, etc. Zulag Ten, finally, was the “detention” area. Many mudokons went in, few came out.
I picked up my usual ten satchels of flit carcasses to feed to the slogs and friets in Zulag Four. Quickly I chugged my can of Expresso! and took off running to the transport to my workstation.
I met my usual pals near the lift, waiting for me. Adonis, Flex, Nod, and Starch. They whistled the customary hello. Talking was punished by a zap from an always overhead Zippy, which operated like a chant suppressor. Ever since that Abe guy took off, many facilities installed these things. We nodded at each other, looking rather tired. I didn’t blame them—we all had little sleep.
The three red lights over the door flashed green, and the door clanged open. File in, stand up straight. The lift inside wheeled downward … and to the fourth zulag. We scurried out and marched to our sub-zulag.
The day was extraordinarily uneventful. Standing above the pits of slogs and friets, we periodically threw small, birdlike animals—flits—into the pits. We would spend hours in between scrubbing floors. We would take turns going into the pits and cleaning up the filth of the animals. They would not attack—they knew as much as us that they would be shot for trying. For this we knew we were in relative safety. Stuff like this for twenty hours straight. We were allowed to eat bits and pieces of the flits, but not more than one. Each.
But as usual, one mud slipped up. A curse after stepping in slog shit. A funny look at a slig. Relaxing. Then …
Rat-tat-tat! One less mud. Two hundred and fifty became two hundred and forty-nine. Within the hour, a fresh mud, three years old, would be working. And there would be a random reassignment.
After the one a.m. whistle, we marched back to our lifts. Back up to our rooms. “Social time” in the halls of Zulag Six for exactly one hour.
Two o’clock bell. In bed. Fifteen minutes later and lights out. As if we needed fifteen minutes to fall asleep.
Some of us were afflicted with the Winks. That’s what we called it when you couldn’t sleep. But you still see things.
Bad things.
Really bad things.
I have the Winks.
And I see things.

[nads]

Great story. I love this...and you.

[Dave]

... some honest feedback would be nice. Not to say I don't appreciate Nads declaring his love for me--though it is a bit odd.
Anyways.

New chapter coming soon!

[Dave]

Drink and be merry, for I bring you ... CHAPTER 2!

Chapter 2

One night I was laying in bed. Not sleeping, of course.
The Winks would be taking over soon …
The Winks are funny. While you are seeing the vision, you are still fully aware of everything going on around you. But it seems to move slower than usual, and you don’t feel the relieving effects of sleep. It’s a shame.
My vision began to blur … I saw vague shapes begin to form before my eyes … and they slowly became clearer and clearer.
[VISION]
A big room. Round. Lit in green. Dim. Circular table in the center. Glukkons standing around it. A cloud of cigar smoke hangs overhead. One glukkon is dressed in a shimmering red suit and hat—a glockstar. The owner of the factory, Icarus. Other glukkons around were Vladimir, in charge of accounting, clad in a green suit; Swift, public relations, in his blue suit; Bung, in charge of slig training, wearing black and several medals. Others I’d never seen before.
Icarus stood up. “Gentleman. We have a proposition that I think you will all enjoy.” Small chuckle. “Mr. Vladimir, would you stand up please?”
A dozen glukkon heads turned to face the tall gluk as he stood. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.
“Friends, it has come to my attention that we are spending way too much moolah on feeding both the stock and work force. We now spend nearly five hundred thousand moolah each month on the flits used as food.”
Swift stood up, outraged. “Are you serious, Vladimir!? What are you going to do about it, huh?”
Vladimir grinned. “Listen to this. Flits cost five moolah each, and weigh about two pounds each. That means two hundred thousand pounds of meat and bone. But listen to this! Mudokon eggs cost ten moolah apiece.”
Bung screeched. “Are you mad?! That’s twice the cost of a flit!”
Vladimir’s grin only widened. “But a five year old mudokon is nearly a hundred times the weight of a single flit. So, we buy two thousand extra labor eggs from the vykkers each month. Do the math and tell me how much that would cost us.”
Swift squinted, doing the math … then exploded. “Whoa! Only twenty thousand! That’s great!”
Vladimir sat down and continued comfortably. “So we have the same amount of meat and bone to feed the animals and the work force. But at a fraction of the cost! We save four hundred and eighty thousand moolah each month with this plan!”
The glukkons gasped, and looked anxious. Even Icarus looked impressed. He stood. “This is all well and good, Vladimir. We know the animals love mudokon meat—”
Laughter.
“—but you don’t know how the muds will react. They might not have a healthy response. And if the mudokons can’t deal with that, it would end up costing more money. Work this out, Vladimir.”
“Taken care of.” This was, surprisingly, from Bung. “We can afford to risk a few mudokons to test the meat. I’d be happy to oversee it, even.”
Icarus coughed with surprise, and maybe some Lungbuster smoke. “Bung, that’s actually a decent thought. But since the whole idea was Vladimir’s suggestion, he will oversee testing. If it goes well, his plan will be put into effect. Otherwise, you will pay personally for replacement mudokons. Dismissed, gentlemen.”
[/VISION]
I jumped up in bed. The sheet that was used as a blanket fluttered off of my thin chest and to the floor. I breathed heavily, gasping for air.
There’s another thing about Winks I haven’t mentioned. We normally see brutal things, like fuzzle testing, mudokon dissections, slig mutations, that kind of thing. But guess what? These things are always true. We don’t know how it is true, but we know that it is true.
We’re in trouble.
Oh, damn.

Okay! Now I'm serious!

Some feedback, please! I'd like to know if this is even being read by anyone other than me!

... pretty please?

[T-nex]

Why aren't you continuing with this.

[Dave]

Whoa ... a reply!
Yes, for all the fans I happen to have, I apologize for being absent. I've been grounded from the computer because of my report card ... argh!

But never fear, eventually I will return with the next chapter.

Good luck to all until then!

[Dave]

Why is the world in love again?
Why are we marching hand in hand?
Why are the ocean levels rising up?
Well, it's a brand new chapter,
For your enjoyment!
Oh, yes! It's Dave's "Dante's Oddysee!"

Behold! Chapter 3!

CHAPTER 3

I got up next morning and moved to my station. I wasted no time in whistling my message to my comrades. A quick note on whistle-speak: I have to translate very loosely, since there are no pronouns or anything.
“Saw bad stuff last night.” Trying to sound casual.
“Like what?” Nod was just as calm. “Winks?”
Gulp. “Yeah. Hideous things. Going to make us food.”
Flex rolled his eyes. “Good. We can use some food.”
I swallowed a heavy lump in my throat. “No, you misunderstand. Food is made from Mudokons.”
Flex froze and dropped his satchel, scattering flits everywhere. Starch had to stifle a moan, and Nod ignored me. Adonis was the first to answer.
“But why? We can’t taste good.”
I shrugged and threw a flit into the slog pit. “Saves moolah or something. Stupid glukkons.”
Yarnis had yelled down from his perch above our pit by now. He noticed the spilled flits and was probably getting fed up with all the high-pitched notes. “Shut up down there! Feed the slogs and friets and keep quiet!”
Nod whistled at us. “He seems touchy today. Better not screw around.”
The others chose to agree. But I pressed on.
“I mean it! They are going to take a few Muds and try out the meat on us.”
Flex whistled his typical soft tooting. It was almost comical to see such a burly Mudokon with such a wispy voice. “Please don’t talk about that, Dante. Let’s concentrate on working. Cover me, okay?” And he climbed down into the slog pit.
It was our job to distract the slogs with all the meat and bone we could while he raked all the poop into one corner. Then he climbs out of the hole and we each clear out other holes. Once we have each cleaned out five holes, we take a fifteen minute break at the desk near the lift. We were given some SoBe to drink and were allowed to eat a flit from our satchels. Then back into the pits!
The day was pretty uneventful … until around seven thirty. I was just throwing a flit into a pit so Starch could clean it, when I heard whirring slig pants. This was unusual, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to get beaten for being distracted.
But I wasn’t expecting what had happened. I felt a heavy pain slam into the back of my head, and I collapsed. I saw a slig’s hand reaching over me, and all went black…


Now is the time for posting! You are to making comments on story, if please you!

[Abe's son]

Your story excites my in ways I never thought possible.

Other than that, this story kicks ass. Continue on

[T-nex]

Yay! I like it! Please continue!!

[Dave]

Oh. My. God.
I have two fans!
Whoo!

Anywho, why not continue my Triumphant Return to Oddworld Forums with ... you guessed it ...

CHAPTER 4

I felt a vague sensation of moving, but without moving. It was like I was sliding on a stationary floor. Almost like a conveyor belt. I forced my eyes open and wasn’t surprised to see the ceiling sliding away overhead. That’s funny, I thought. I’m on a conveyor belt, like the ones in the—
[SUDDEN WINKS VISION]
I saw myself working back in Zulag 1. I remember my job was taking the sedated friets and jyggs and placing them on a conveyor belt that passed under a procession of meat grinders. I remember being fascinated by the way the animals were torn apart, always thankful that I wasn’t on the belt.
[/SUDDEN WINKS VISION]
I WAS GONNA BE A MUDOKON POP!
Thanking all that is Odd with every fiber in my body that there was nothing on the belt to hold me down, I sat bolt upright, jumped to my feet, and leaped off the belt.
I can’t remember all the details of what happened next, but I’ll try to recollect …
The two sligs on duty in the room shouted. I dropped to my hands and knees and rolled under the belt, where there was less room to aim. The other muds in the room acted nonchalant, as I remember, but I heard whistles like “Oh, crap, Dante’s in for it, now!” and “Do it, Dan! Do it!”
One slig commanded me to come out and get on the belt—a bullet wound would spoil the meat (although I think back and can’t imagine why that would matter). So I came out, stood up, and instantly swung my left paw into the slig’s face, sending him reeling. The other was too shocked to react in time, as I smacked him, too.
As the first was standing, I had an idea. Maybe the Zippys overhead could take down the sligs! I spoke one of the few words I knew: “Freeze!”
The zippy shook for about a half second, and in that time I had sprinted toward and plowed into the nearer slig. Being a stronger and more versatile creature, I took the pain, but the slig, whom I crashed into simultaneously, didn’t have the fortitude to live … and the other slig was already radioing for backup. There was a rouge mudokon, hostile.
And armed, I thought with a smile, picking up the first slig’s gun. The other turned to me and demanded that I should freeze, while I simply pointed the gun’s barrel and pulled the trigger.
Damn! My hands throbbed after that. I could never get why sligs could handle the kickback on those things. I pulled another shot at the zippy overhead.
My audience was thrilled. Whistles pierced my ears not long after the zippy went down.
“Dante! You rock!”
“Dahn-tay! Dahn-tay!”
I raised my hands. With my creaky voice, I repeated some of the most famous words any mudokon ever spoke.
“Hello. Follow me.”
And my five mudokon comrades said, “Okay.”


Who rocks? Dave rocks!

I wonder how many people actually do read this ...
I'd like to ask anyone who reads this story with any sort of regularity to post some kind of comment, please. I'm a nice person, really!

[T-nex]

HEY I'M READING THIS!!! AM I NO ONE?????
Anyways, i REALY like this story... I don't really have any comment other than : THIS ROCKS!!!! DAVE ROCKS!!!

[Dave]

Thanks!

I'll have a new chapter out tomorrow-ish, by the way.

[T-nex]

YAY! I CAN'T WAIT!!!

[Dave]

Okay, all my fans are going to want to shoot me.
I've been grounded again, and I can hardly get online to post anything. If I had a new chapter ready, I would post it.
This may be on hold for quite some time, so please be patient.
I apologize again, especially to my biggest fan, T-Nex.
I am truly sorry.

[T-nex]

WHYYYYYY!!!!
Well... I understand. I hope you will be allowed to post soon.
DAVE ROCKS!!!!!

[Dave]

Guess who's back?
Back a-gain!
Dave is back!
Tell a friend!

Chapter the Fifth! Hooray!

So we wandered down the hallway … looking for some way to get out of the factory. The hallways were mostly empty, except for the constant whirring of cameras.
But I had gotten to thinking … how was I going to hide five mudokons and guide them out of a place like this? There seemed not to be a way to do it without someone getting kill—
“Dante!” A whistle from behind. “Where are we going? I thought you knew what you were doing?”
“Uhh …” Oops. Where was I going? I guess I had nowhere to go, after all. “Were … gonna … get out?”
The others groaned. And as their hope faded, I watched the familiar sight of their skin changing from a pale green to a reddish color.
Uh oh, panic time. “No, no, no. I know what to do. Follow me.”
Disgusted, they whistled back. “No way. Tinker is right. You don’t know where you’re going.”
“Yeah, I’m with Ozzy. Let’s go, guys.”
“Wait! Come back! I’ll get us outta here! Really!”
“Nope. You’re on your own.” And they turned and left.
Ah, crud.
Well, at least I didn’t have to take care of them yet. I’d bust out on my own, and then I’d get help, then I’d come back and save them!
Yes! Save them all!
…
Anyways. I crept along the halls, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t run into anything dangerous.
As if The Odd heard me, I absently waltz right into a hallway crawling with sligs and greeters!
Yargh!
To my extreme luck, the baddies were generally distracted, focusing on some kind of video screen. I snuck closer, staying in the shadows cast by the surrounding machinery, so that I could look on.
There was a scruffy looking glukkon in a gray suit talking. Many of the words he said were new to me, and his thick accent didn’t help, either. But I remember the sounds exactly, and now that I can speak and type, I can retell it.
“It has come to my attention that there is a mudokon running loose in the factory. He is armed and dangerous. So, effective immediately are the following commands:
The factory shall not process anything until this mudokon is captured and/or shot, diced, or otherwise killed so that his head may be mounted on the wall in my office.
Until he is captured/killed/etc., no more mudokons are to be put to work—this escapee has caused too much of a stir, and I want every mudokon here to witness his punishment.
Now, stay alert! Note every sound, and shoot anything suspicious. Make sure it is only this mudokon that you shoot! Now, move!!”
Whoo, boy. Thing’s are looking fun.
I tiptoed into the shadows and slowly raised the gun in my hands. I pointed it at the nearest slig, and, sweating bullets, pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening in the little enclosed space, but the effects were immediate.
All the other sligs panicked, and began shooting everywhere. I, however, had dropped my gun, fell to my hands and knees, and rolled off down the hallway, keeping my eyes peeled for sligs, greeters, directories ….
Wait a minute … directory?
A map of the factory!
Surely I could use it to find a way out!
I stopped behind some broken meat grinders to catch my breath. I looked up and down the halls, taking in what there was to take in.
A little corner with a new hall was a bit up the way to my left. The directory was straight across from me, and down to the right, where I had come from, was … oh, jeez, the sligs! They had heard my gun clatter and were chasing me all along! I guess they couldn’t shoot while they were running … making a mental note of it, I wrenched a piece of metal of the machinery next to me. “This better work,” I thought, and hucked it overhead as far as I could to land back behind them.
Clatter … clatter … crash!
“Hey! Hear that!”
“It came from behind us!”
“Let’s go!”
And, miraculously, they turned and ran. After taking one more look around, I tiptoed over to the directory and pressed my mitt against the glowing panel.
A little holographic, three-dimensional map of the entire complex jogged to life! I saw each and every facet of the factory. By pressing different parts of the screen, I could zoom in on particular parts of the whole building.
It took almost no time at all to find that the only way to get out was through—naturally—the front door. Yeah … all the work was done indoors. Great. Even the goods were transported straight through the roof of the building and into the new Vykker’s Labs.
So … maybe the sewers?
…
Yeah!
Now, to find some plumbing … I scanned the map and found that the only facilities were in Zulag Nine. The only sanitary ones, that is. The ones in the slig and mudokon quarters were cleaned out by—guess who—the workers each month. By hand. I’d go into details, but that’s another story for another day.
So, To get out, I’d have to go to Zulag Nine. And if you’ve done your homework (Dave: That means if you’ve read all the chapters), you’ll know that that is where the glukkons live, eat, work, and defecate.
I didn’t know whether to throw up or cry or both.
Yummy.

[T-nex]

FINALLY!!
I'm so happy i could throw up.... I mean...umm... something...
Well, nows the time to pray for Dante that he'll get out

[Dave]

Hoo-hah! Two chapters in two days!
That's gotta be, like, a record or something.

Well, kids, I hope you brought your appetites! Here's a heaping helping of Dante's Oddysee, fresh out of the oven!

Really, I finsihed the chapter not two minutes ago.

Chapter 6

But I had no time to waste. There would be sligs moving in any second.
And as if on cue, and because the universe hates me, I heard pants whirring towards me. In fast mode. Ugh.
I had to be quick. Where was the nearest transport?! A ball car about fifty feet away from me … around the corner! Bolt! I turned and dashed around and into the next hallway, and took in my surroundings.
It was a relatively short corridor. I could see the ball car dock at the end of the hall. And the car was there. The green lights over the door hummed a low hum.
The hall itself was rather empty. Not much machinery, just a meat grinder or three.
And yeah, there happens to be the whole “All the sligs working in the whole freaking universe have to stand in my way” rule that Oddworld seems to have recently adopted.
When I appeared in the hallway, at least a hundred sligs poured in from the ceiling—commandos! Their motto has always been: “Shoot first … ask questions l… no, no, just shoot.”
Well, it was either run or be shot. So, instead of taking the logical way out, I decided I should run for it.
I was at top speed and streaking down the hall, when those few meat grinders I thought wouldn’t be a problem buzzed into motion. I remember thinking, “Oh, cut me some slack!” for about half a second as I ducked and rolled under and past the grinder in front of me.
And a break is what I got—my arm was snagged in the grate underneath the saw!
The feeling was not so bad as the sound it made when my arm was ground away. The tearing, ripping sound of ripping wet leather was nearly enough to make me pass out. And the fact that it was my arm ripping apart made me cry. I just up and cried. No screaming, no wailing, just plain old whimpering and sobbing.
This would’ve probably sealed my fate, but the sligs were too busy laughing at me. I—what?
Laughing, eh?
Well, good.
RUN!
I stood up, ignoring the screaming nerves at the end of my severed arm, and dashed toward the ball car dock.
A few of the sligs calmed down in time to shout “Hey!” and “Freeze!” before I clattered into the car, triggered a switch, and fell over. The door clanged shut, and then I started to wail.
I wouldn’t make it. There was no chance, not with this stump. I examined my wound—laceration, if you will. There was little more than an upper arm bone left. Shreds of skin and stringy tendons hung from my shoulder. My eyes stung, and I felt fresh, hot tears pour down my face in torrents. I could only thank The Odd that I wasn’t dead yet. And that no sligs happened to be in the car.
A cheery vykker face on a monitor scrolled down. “Hello!” It sang in its high voice. “Where do you want to go today?”
I understood loosely what it meant, despite not knowing the words “where” and “want.” I choked out a few scraggly, tear-choked words. It sounded less coherent than usual.
“Zoolug Nayun.”
The screen flickered. Then it spoke again. “Invalid destination. Try again.”
After several failed attempts, a screen dropped down with a list of all the docks in the factory. There were labels decorated with symbols that meant different locations. An oven with a smiling mudokon attendant. Friendly stock animals. A glukkon and a vykker talking over a telephone. A mudokon in a bed (which made me want to laugh). A slig in a hammock. A pantry-looking thing. A few glukkons talking. A sad mudokon crouching under a disappointed-looking glukkon (gee, I wonder what that meant?).
Well, which one was Zulag 9? The glukkons talking to each other, I suppose. I mean, I couldn’t read or anything. So, I took a shot. I tried to reach over and touch the panel, but all my hand did was scream in protest. Then I realized that that hand wouldn’t answer because it was in fifteen freaking pieces at the end of the hallway!
Okay, other hand, then. Good old Lefty never let me down. I reached over and pushed the screen next to the businesslike glukkons. I pressed my thumb right into one of their faces. Yeah, I’d have like to press my fist into his face. Heh, heh. Yeah.
The vykker’s computerized face acted as if there was never any problem. “Yes, indeed, Zulag 9! Right away!”
I hummed a little ditty to myself while I waited, so I could pass the time (and take the focus off my arm). The car rattled and rolled and bumped and shook and whatever. When it screeched to a halt, I was nearly flung at the door. I managed to stand, even with my arm singing a chorus through my chest, and fresh blood seeping out of the socket around my stub. I braced myself for the worst, and triggered the floor switch.
The door opened.
I saw nothing but a long, dimly lit hallway. The lighting was green and faded. The walls and floor was made of plates of interlocking, rusted metal. The only thing of interest in the hall was the door at the other end. Sure, okay.
I trotted down the hall, my left hand clutched over my wound. My hand was getting sticky and hot by now, and I honestly didn’t care. I needed out.
As I reached the door, the green light over it flashed on, and it slowly whirred open.
The room was full of slig—no, wait. It was full of glukkons! Tall ones, short ones, fat ones … and in a bunch of different colored suits.
And when they heard the door open, they were very, very mad.
A chorus of angry shouting filled my head, and I ran straight through the room. A door! There had to be one! Couldn’t concentrate! My arm! The shouts! Slig pants clattering in! Whirring machines! Vicious cries! My arm!
A door! Please be the bathroom!
I rammed shoulder first through it—naturally on my wrecked arm. Trying to suppress a cry of pain and rage (and failing miserably), I stumbled into the last room I expected to see.
Urinals, toilets, sinks. And a sign reading “Out of Order.” Over a hole in the floor—a toilet must’ve been dismantled. And the hole …?
Just wide enough to slip through! I hope…!
Better try it! Run!
I took approximately three steps when a slig busted in and cried out. “Freeze!” Yeah, yeah, freeze, freeze, freeze. That’s all I heard nowadays. Too bad I didn’t
(pretended not to)
know what that word meant. I dropped to my knees and rolled to the hole … and slipped right in! Who cares if I was being coated in glukkon crap? I was almost halfway out!
I fell into a big, cavernous room. As I stood, I drunk in the atmosphere. The walls, floor, and ceiling were curved, like in a big pipe. Water trickled along the floor in between my feet. It streamed behind me and past me into the darkness. A single shaft of light—however dim—came down onto my face from the hole above.
Uh oh. Masks with guns in front of them were blocking that light. No time to celebrate; I knew they’d shoot out the floor and come after me.
“Only a little more running,” I thought to myself. “Then I can rest.”

[Bionic]

Ooh.. this story kicks ass Please continue.

[Dave]

And now, for the first time on network television, the latest installment of:
DANTE'S ODDYSEE!
Presented to you commercial free by Scrab Cakes! Mmm, mm! They'll cost ya an arm and a leg!

Chapter 7
So I ran. I ran so far away. And I ran, I ran all night and day.
Well, not for that long. But there was not that much to do except run. And ignore the pain in my stump.
I was in a huge, dark, wet, stinky labyrinth. I hadn’t been running long when I heard a loud gunshot and crumbling linoleum. And whirring pants. And a weird sawing sound overhead … but whatever, I had to keep moving.
I turned randomly at every intersection—what use would it be to sit and play eeny-meeny-miney-moe? All I did, except run, was look out for poop and corners.
But no matter how fast I ran, all of the sligs kept up with me!
squish!
pop!
Yuck! Warm, sticky liquid coated my foot. I had to ignore it, because sligs were on my tail!
squeak!
splat! splat!
shuffle, shuffle
Wha?
I felt a sudden stab in my back. I thought briefly, “Ah! I’ve been shot!” Except I felt no blood on my back. And the shot felt almost like a sticky … wet … tongue ….
FLEECHES!
I better keep going!
Duh!
I ran and ran and ran … and
[VISION]
Meanwhile, Vladimir was monitoring all the … uh, monitors in the security room.
There were cameras in the sewers, of course. And traps. Never too careful, you know. And how lucky that it just passed inspection!
“Hey! Yarnis!” Vladimir’s voice cut through the air. He shifted his cigar from the left of his mouth to the right.
Yarnis clattered in. “Yes, boss?”
“Turn on the traps in the pipes. Get that f*ing mudokon killed! I want to eat that bastard for breakfast!”
Yarnis grinned a slig grin. “Yes sir, you got it!” And took off to find the lever.
[/VISION]
Oh, shit!
Good thing I didn’t stop running! The fleeches could hardly keep up with me.
click!
What the hell?
I saw meat grinders drop in from the ceiling. They were—
Oh, come on! Why does The Odd hate me?
Wait a minute … Maybe I could lure the fleeches through the grinders!
Why not?
I dropped to hand and knees again and toppled forward just before a grinder slammed down … and I fell over! No arm, of course.
shuffle, shuffle
Oh, balls! I was going to get eaten by fleeches!
But now that I think back, I am very grateful that fleeches like to get as close as possible to what they are about to eat. Because the dozen or so that were chasing me scattered onto the little grate just in time for … the grinder! Squishy! I welcomed the spray of green and brown meat across my face. But it was time for running, not for celebrating!
Up and running!
A light around the corner … what? Okay, go for it!
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
There was an opening! It was the end of the tunnels! And guess what else! There was…
Fresh air.
Yum!
Oh, the smell and taste of fresh air was heavenly! It filled my lungs with fresh hope and it cleared my mind of worry.
But that wasn’t the best part.
Sticking out at me like a freaking pimple on the sky was something so beautiful, so awe-inspiring, so damn great that I cried.
There was a huge moon looking down at me. On it’s face was a large shape looked ridiculously like a mudokon hand. I tried to lift my right hand to match it, but my arm complained.
Oh, yeah. It wasn’t there anymore.
But that moon! It was almost like all my troubles were melting away, and there was nothing to worry about.
I heard a gunshot from far away.
The muscles in my back began to throb, and there was a stabbing pain. My vision blurred.
Warm liquid poured down the back. There was not much, as the arm had practically drained the body of it’s fluid.
The sound of laughter was heard at a distance.
The body of the mangled mudokon began to totter forward, and it fell.
As it spiraled toward the water, the sound of laughter and whirring machines filled the body’s failing senses.
When the body hit the water below, there was a dull and unimpressive splash.
Not three seconds later, eight raggedy birds struggled out of the water, feathers dripping wet, and fluttered off into the night.

[T-nex]

HUH? He lost his arm?? I i losted my arm i'd cry.... And eventually die.
But keep it up Davey!!!!

[Dave]

Not to worry, Constant Reader. Dante will be okay.
How do I know?
Cuz I'm gonna write the next chapter soon.
It'll be up by saturday. Promise.

[Abe's son]

Le Gasp...

Pwnment Dave.

[Dave]

Thank you for your compliments!
But T-nex, please don’t call me Davey. I most sincerely dislike it.
Anyways …
Anyone perfect must be lying, and anything easy has it’s cost.
Anyone plain can be lovely, and anyone loved can be lost.
But what if I’ve lost my direction, and what if I’ve lost sense of time?
What if I nursed this infection? Well, maybe the worst is behind …
And it is! Because your patience is being rewarded!
Chapter 8 is here! Yes, life are good.

Chapter 8

Nothing existed except for vast and stretching lands.
At first, there were charred, burnt, wrecked, and wasted land. It was scattered with makeshift slig tents. Animals around here were scarce, and the ones there found themselves shot for food or herded into uncomfortable pens only to be shipped later to meat plants across Mudos. There were hardly any plants. All that was left of any trees was their stumps. Any grass that there was had been tainted and dead for a while; the few animals gathered around patches of brown shrubbery.
Much like this.
Later, there were only mildly altered lands. A few sligs were on patrol here. Some smatterings of mudokon art and carvings could be seen. There were more wild animals here, and far more in the plant department. Sure, the trees were wimpy, but they were there. The grass was green, too.
This went on for a while. Then…
Massive monuments across vast stretches of forest and desert. Little industrial development. Very few sligs. Mudokons are more prominent. Wild animals travel in droves, and move freely.
There is a shoddy village. Small huts made from wood. Quickly made, as if it was designed to come apart and go up again in a hurry.
flash!
crash!
thud!
I hit the ground with ridiculous suddenness. And of course, I landed on my wounded arm—
Wait, how did I feel my arm throb if it wasn’t there?
And why wasn’t I all sticky and bloody?
I only know opened my eyes … and took in my surroundings. I was in a little village, and there were mudokons everywhere. Working, talking, playing catch, meditating …
And three of them were walking towards me very fast. Each had a slingshot cocked and ready to shoot.
As they came over, I inspected my body …
I was in one piece!
An insurmountable urge to laugh, cry, and dance swelled up inside my stomach. I had meant to stand up slowly, but I clattered up to my feet again, whistling to the heavens!
My sudden outburst apparently angered the muds, because they raised their slingshots and pointed them at me. Directly. A few words I hadn’t learned—but could guess anyway—roared from their unsown lips. They basically said “Freeze,” the favorite words of the sligs.
Oh, jeez. I thought the muds would be friendly, and that I would get a break … but I guess not …
I cringed back in fear, and waited for the worst.

Sorry it's so short this time around, folks. I didn't want to get too far into anything yet. The next installment should be a whopper.

[T-nex]

But T-nex, please don’t call me Davey. I most sincerely dislike it.

Oh sorry about that daveyyy----- ermm i mean DAVE!!

Oh and i like your story soo much that i could kiss it .... maybe.

[Dave]

Ooooohhhhhhh!
How writes a story called Dante's Oddysee?
D-A-V-E!
He's big and he's nice and good-looking is he!
D-A-V-E!
If Oddworldian drama is something you wish ...
D-A-V-E!
Then read on, my dear friends, and enjoy this fine dish!
D-A-V-E!
Ready?

Chapter 9!

The muds hadn’t tried to shoot, but I thought they would any second if I wasn’t careful.
One of them spoke. I hadn’t a clue what was going on, of course, since I didn’t know what half of the words were. Phonetically, it sounded like, “Wayerya frum, and watcha doin heer?”
And I thought, “What the hell?”
I tried to communicate with whistle-talk. “♪I think that I just escaped from Tastee Treets. I was shot and started falling, and then I felt like I was flying …♪”
The muds looked both relieved and anxious. Then another mudokon walked up to join our little assembly. He looked rather formidable, and as he blocked out the sunlight (which I just then realized I was seeing for the first time), my fear intensified. But as I observed him, he didn’t seem too bad. His skin was a grayish-blue, and he had a friendly, old face and a sturdy, strong body. I instantly respected him, but my fear was still strong.
And thankfully, he knew whistle-speak!
“♪Hey there, guy!♪” he said, sitting down. “♪Where did you say you where from?♪”
I was relieved. “♪I was shot near a sewer drain at the Tastee Treets factory….♪” And I told my story. How the glukkons were going to try to save money by making us into food. How I tried to get away and ended up losing an arm. And being coated in poop. And being viciously shot at. And being stabbed by fleeches. And being killed. And the sensation of flying. And that was that.
After I had finished, the old mud seemed to consider for a while, as I waited anxiously for some kind of response.
Then he stood. “♪You know, if I hadn’t been spending time meditating lately, I’d just think you were some weirdo. But I’ve seen something in my recent meditation.♪”
I shrugged my shoulders. “♪What did you say you were doing? Meditating? What is that?♪”
The mudokon smiled through his natural, unsown lips. “♪Come with me, young one. You’ve got a lot to learn.♪” And, after briefly explaining things to the other muds, we hurried on our way.

The old mudokon introduced himself as Orion. He had been meditating for a while. Meditating, he said, was sitting in a quiet place and focusing your thoughts on learning all that there is to learn, to become all you can become physically, mentally, and spiritually. Most of what you saw meditating was images you probably didn’t comprehend. You knew in your guts what you saw was the undeniable truth, but you didn’t know where your mind conjured up the pictures.
I was shocked to realize it was very like the Winks that I suffered from. When I told him this, he was interested to hear about it.
“♪Well … the Winks are a thing that some of us experienced at one time or the other. Mostly it’s at night that we have these visions, when we are supposed to be asleep. But, we who have this affliction don’t exactly sleep often. I myself have a serious case of insomnia on top of things. Usually, the guys I talk to say they’ve only had one experience with the Winks once or twice. Probably something terrible, like testing on fuzzles, or sligs shooting or beating mudokon workers. One guy I knew said he saw a gabbit lung transplant. These guys always have problems with sanity after a bout of the Winks.
“♪But I guess I have visions more than anyone I know. I’ve seen pretty much any atrocity there is ever since I was little. The first thing I saw was a mudokon hanging over a meat grinder by his arms. There was a tall glukkon near him, and a slig getting ready to pull a lever. The vision ended before I knew what happened to that mudokon… I wish I knew, now that I think about it….♪”
Orion looked a little amused, and not to mention curious. “♪Can you describe the mudokon and the glukkon a little more? I think I’ve seen this myself.♪”
Surprised, I went into detail. The images the Winks leave you end up sketched into your mind forever, so I had little trouble recalling each detail.
The glukkon was tall. Almost seven feet high. He was puffing on a cigar, smoking like a chimney. There was a strange combination of anger, exasperation, and excitement on his flat, cracked, brown face. There were two glowing pinpoints of orange light for eyes on that face. He had wide shoulders, or at least the suit made it look that way. It was probably a pretty sharp suit by glukkon standards. Four gold buttons held it together. His shoes were shiny and black.
Then there was the mudokon. I described him as being pretty tall. His skin was blue, and his face was sad. It seemed to me that he had gone through a whole lot of trial and tribulation. His eyes were orange, and they were bloodshot. Very bloodshot. And there were some weird tattoo-like scars on the back of his hands. One was like a circle with lines coming off it, and the other was a line with two jagged marks off one end and three smaller ones off the other side.
This information seemed to excite Orion. He asked if I could draw the scars in the dirt. So, I pushed my finger around and sketched the scars. Orion laughed right out loud. “♪That’s what I thought!♪” And he held out his hands, face down.
The scars I had seen in my old vision were matched by ones on the back of each of Orion’s hands!
“♪How did you get those? Where did they come from? What do they mean? Are you that mudokon I saw?♪”
Orion chuckled. “♪Calm down, smelly. Listen up. I am not that mudokon. The mudokon you are talking about is the Hero of the Mudokons, Abe. He—♪”
“♪Abe who? Do you mean that Abe guy all the glukkons are always complaining about? What made him a Hero? What happened to him after that glukkon had him ready to get chopped up?♪”
“♪Hey, hey! I’ll tell you about him if you’ll just shush and listen.♪”
I sat still and kept quiet, listening to what Orion told me, and noting all my questions mentally. But, as the story unfolded, my questions answered themselves.

Abe was a floor-cleaner in the old Rupture Farms meat plant. He accidentally found out about a glukkon plan to create a new meat product to sell to the masses. So, he took off, and escaped the meat plant. He saw the same moon I saw, and fell off a cliff. A shaman with a huge mask stepped out of the shadows and brought him back to life, describing the way Oddworld used to be, before the glukkons turned the wildlife into lunch, and ruined the environment. This bugged Abe, who went into the Monsaic Temple. Here, he found his way into Paramonia and Scrabania, lands dedicated to the paramites and scrabs. By braving the trials here, he was given the scars that allowed him to channel the power of the mudokon god Shrykull. Using this power, along with cunning and more than a little luck (and some even suspected the work of some outside force, like a guardian angel), Abe was able to permanently close Rupture Farms, not to mention ruin Mollock the Glukkon’s career. Of course, he rescued all of the remaining mudokons working there as he went. When he escaped, he was instantly assigned a new quest—to stop glukkon bone mining in Necrum, the sacred mudokon jungle/cemetery. He went there and found out that the bones they dug were used to make a very freaking addictive brew. Mudokons that drank it would do anything for more. Abe found his way through mudokon tribal burial vaults to earn a new tattoo that allowed him to cure mudokons addicted to brew. Then, he made his way to FeeCo Depot, a train station. From here, he traveled to and shut down Bonewerkz, the bone company, and a Slig Barracks, where sligs were raised and trained to be heartless killers. Afterward, he shut down the train station and traveled to Soulstorm Brewery, the place where the brew was made. Of course, he saved all the mudokons he found, and blew the place to pieces. By now, he had a spreading reputation among muds and glukkons alike. He had been responsible for the escape of three hundred and ninety-nine mudokons since he escaped Rupture Farms. Recently, he met the Big Raisin, and went off in search of some Gabbit called Munch.

“♪I don’t know what he and munch are up to, but something tells me it’ll be something good by the time Abe returns. Which brings me to my next point: do you think that when Abe gets back, he would be able to rescue those muds and blow that place off of the map? I mean, it’s probably something he’d be willing to do—♪”
“♪NO!♪” It would’ve been a shout if it was verbal. But when Orion cringed, I felt like I had to clarify myself. “♪Orion, I just mean that … I feel like I should be the one to save these guys, you know? I know the place better than Abe would. And I would be recognized by everyone there. They’d be more willing to follow me out. Not to mention, I kinda promised myself I’d go back.♪”
“♪You just think it would be fun to risk getting killed. You’re a maniac, and you feel confident that death won’t stop you, because you were revived after dying once, and you want to know how much you can get away with it.♪”
This surprised me a little … but I realized that Orion was right. I craved adventure and danger, because no matter how scared I was and no matter how much pain I was in, I was starting to miss the rush of adrenaline running through me as I ran through the complex.
But what I said was, “♪I guess.♪”
Orion nodded knowingly. “♪Okay. I’ll tell you what: we are going to help you get ready for the biggest night of your life—the night you storm Tastee Treets!♪”
A grin stretched across the tired muscles in my face. I was finally going to pay back those damned glukkons for what they’d done to my brothers, and again for what they planned on doing.
This was going to be fun.

Hope that'll do for a while!

[Dave]

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man: no time to talk.
Music loud and women warm, I've been kicked around since I was born.
And now it's all right. It's OK. And you may look the other way.
We can try to understand that Dante's Oddysee is back ...
That was lame.
Anyways.
Chapter 10
I was in the mudokon village of Rotag, near the river of Rup. My new friend Orion was explaining what I would have to do in order to become a Big Kahonee Shaman, and be able to infiltrate the Factory.
I would have to go through tests that were more and more trying. From Rotag, I’d have to go into progressively rougher places, and risk more life.
My first stop would be Oblim, across the nearby river of Norchan. Everyone here was supposed to be depressed, but the danger hadn’t begun yet.
Next stop, Muto. The place was so deep in shadow one could hardly see in front of his face. Wind blew everywhere, and kept people stumbling everywhere. The temptation to turn back would be great here, but to proceed, I’d have to show my self-control.
Trid was the next place. The light began to return here, though this was a land tortured by constant rains. Shadows and sickening water are abundant here. There was a beast to conquer here, and he isn’t particularly gentle.
The fourth trial was in Theaw. Physical strength would be key here, as boulders filled the land, blocking all paths.
Styx: The land of vicious cannibalistic mudokons. There was a lot to worry about here.
The city of Dis was a practically impassible barrier. Few mudokons taking these trials passed through. It is a wide plain, surrounded by iron walls. Fire runs rampant, burning all that is sacred.
Notheg was a rarely seen place. A narrow path over a river of boiling blood was all it consisted of, but there was a hideous inhabitant that made it a point to stop all the intruders it could. Those that perished here were said to be buried by the beast in the Woods of Suicides. Passing through here would be terrifying, and the following trek through the scorching sands of Lufk would not be easy.
Bolgemal was a unique place, you could say. As opposed to puzzles to solve, one would have to survive torture. Physical pain, emotional wreck, and spiritual breakdown would have to undergo the ultimate test. Few make it that far—roughly one each hundred years. Even fewer survive the trials—only twice have these trials been completed.
The final challenge, in the deep caves of Sut, was beyond comparison. There was an insane cold that shook the mighty and frightened the bold. One’s courage and endurance was truly tested here. Never had a mudokon that entered here in one piece left the same way.
After Orion told me all of this, what do you think I said?
“♪Cool.♪”

Sounding good?
You bet it is!

[T-nex]

Wooo.... So many challenges..... I hope he makes it... but who knows??