The Rule of the Shrykull

[Esus]

The Rule of the Shrykull
Act One: The Fall
Chapter I

It started simply enough. I was staring up at the massive exit for the Paramonian temple. Once again, like I am every time, I was in awe at its splendour – light seemed to shine gold on the vast paramite caricatures from an invisible sun high in the dark ceiling. Looking up at it this time I once again noticed nothing but it’s pure brilliant; shining rock, massive torches, smoothly carved curves, but later inspections told me I was kidding myself. Moss and webbing lined every run-down crevice, the red eyes of bats would intermittently flick on and off, like some mechanical sensor.
But not, at the time I saw only perfectly in pure mudokon graft, as if I were witnessing it the moment it had been completed.

While gazing at the paramites above, I heard a sound behind me. The most recognisable of sounds for one who’s traversed Paramonia: the unmistakable screech of a hungry paramite. I moved without thinking. I heard myself make a yelp of surprise, but I took no heed of it. Turning, I sprinted to the empty left-hand corridor, one I had previously ignored which seemed dark and deserted. Sure enough, the scurrying of dozens of legs could be heard as I stumbled over a rock.
The long corridor in front of me had a comforting straightness, and though I could see no end – well, I could see nothing at all – the reassuring upwards gradient told me it couldn't last forever.

The part I am about to describe will be etched into my memory undoubtedly forever. Let me pause, take a moment to breathe, and explain the situation. I was running up a cunningly getting steeper tunnel in the middle of a massive wooden structure, in the middle of an immense forested plain. Behind me, frozen in state, are a number of paramites excitedly gaining upon their prey; around nine or ten. Three hundred feet below me is a mud called Abe. I later learnt that Abe was set similar trials to my own by the Big Face; he was pretty young, a slave escapee; the slave escapee. He had apparently single handed traversed the deserts and temples of Scrabania, and after accomplishing tasks I would have never previously dreamed of, he was to rescue his would-be friends from their slavery.

Time to resume the action. The closest paramite jumped with all the agility that only a paramite can muster, and landed on my back, clamping its mouth onto my shoulders and head. I fell forwards, arms flailing wildly as my face crashed onto the rough ground, fiercely being torn and grazed. The single mass of our bodies slid forwards; I’m not sure why. Perhaps the ‘mites behind us jumped onto the load with forward momentum, though at the time I had the distinct feeling they had all stopped moving, as if the first to strike had the right of kill.
Before I could open my eyes after the fall, I realised that there was no floor beneath me, I had inadvertently slid into a well. A deep well. My face stung and the paramite on my back released its grip, though remained close above me; I could see **** all, and heard the whistling of wind as it rushed against my face.

Three hundred feet later, I still hadn't been pressurised back up and I slammed into somebody. The paramite, or paramites, I heard scamper in a number of directions.

Chapter II will arive if there is demand for it.

[The Marching Mudokon]

Yes there is a demand for the next chapter . I love it, I think you should keep writing this story. I like your style and your descriptions.

[Esus]

Thanks a lot Marching Mudokon! I'll start writing the second chapter.

[Abe16]

Keep finishing! i want to hear more!

[Fuzzleman54321]

COOL! That was cool esus! Please write another chapter!!!!

[Esus]

Because you all asked so nicely, a weaker chapter.

The Rule of the Shrykull
Act One: The Fall
Chapter II

Best to slow down. Let’s give half a minute after the… incident careful consideration. How I moved, or failed to move, how the person beneath me also failed to move – these are elements that need to be separated out. I remember thinking to myself, rather stupidly I suppose, that there must be some miraculous feat that could have saved Abe’s life; some angels must have hardened his skin and bones, make my body weigh nothing on the poor guy. A freak physical law could have reversed my mass, could gravity at this one point in the middle of a random stone ledge be much lower? Did I fall slower than I normally would do? Was the mud under me really alright, just annoyed?
I almost laughed at myself, and at the utter absurdity of the situation I now found myself in. There were so many events that branch from this point – so many subdivisions that begin in these early moments but I’ve picked my starting position. I could have easily picked the spot I’m telling at the moment, where I lie stupidly on the corpse of another, or maybe earlier, when I was originally set my fateful challenge. I chose the beginning I did because it best makes sense of the events that follow it; there was nothing before that I feel directly leads to this story in such a way. Such is life.

I stood up, not daring to look the mudokon beneath me and I think I let a chuckle slip my mouth. How ridiculous! How stupid! This cannot really have happened; surely he’ll get up and give me a slap for interrupting him. Still, I couldn’t look. I backed away, looking at the hole I fell through until I bumped into a wall torch. I jumped, turn quickly, shaking. Then laughed again; it’s a torch. I lifted it from the holster and almost instantly dropped it to the floor. I hadn’t ever killed somebody before, what should I do? Who was this mud? Noticed I was shaking severely, sounded (to myself) almost excited as I said; ‘Check on him, he might be alive. There must be something we could do.’ The flagrant untruth reverberated so pleasantly between my ribs that I almost repeated myself. Perhaps I did. My back was rubbing against the rough, web covered wall. Some of the stuff was sticking uncomfortably and my raw face still stung from the earlier fall.
Thinking about the fall made me look around sheepishly. Stupid, I would hear if there were paramites nearby. They’re good hunters, but they haven’t discovered the art of a silent ambush. Of course, their evolution did not require it; they were exceptionally fast and most of their prey would freeze in fear at the mere sound of their spindly legs.

My eyes slowly moved over the dark wall and downwards until I caught sight of blood. I dragged them up and I saw the corpse of Abe. For some reason, he seemed illuminated; like the circles of lights to focus on an actor in a stage performance, a nearby torch appeared to cast a circle of orange light around his decrepit body.
I gasped in shock at what was before me. He had blue skin; his feathers were strangely tied in a ponytail at the back of his skull, and he was in a truly inhuman position. He was sort of half sitting and half lying down. There was a vacancy in his features, one that could be mistaken for sleeping by a loved one. Unfortunately, such fantasies couldn’t even be contemplated; his spine was irrevocably crushed, it was almost as if his entire torso skeleton had ceased to exist. The shoulders were in a funny position an the legs were barely visible.
Blood trickled from invisible wounds over the stone floor and I smelt the sickening stench of excretion.

Before I really took in what I was looking, I found a lone paramite standing on his body. I hadn’t even heard it walk up; where did it come from? I wasn’t even scared, but I could see nothing but the paramite. Perhaps I gasped, or moved; I don’t remember. What I do remember is seeing a blinding white light, and where the paramite was, stood a mudokon.
Big Face.

[Abe16]

Pure exellence! WRITE MORE!!!

[Fuzzleman54321]

Yeah! WRITE MORE! Or abe16 and me will team up and get you! MUHAHAHAHA!! Kidding! Great chapter!

[The Marching Mudokon]

Wow, great chapter Esus. Keep 'em coming!

[Esus]

I'm particularly looking forward to writing the 4th chapter, it's envisioned in my mind as a cool one. Thanks for the support, keep posting.

The Rule of the Shrykull
Act One: The Fall
Chapter III

What to say? After a conversation, people across the world eventually think up better excuses, more witty responses, more interesting things to say – but what do you say at the time? Most people stumble, especially if caught unawares, and speak without carefully thinking. This wasn’t my nature; I tend to be quiet, observant and normally consciously thinking of my response to hundred different questions before any have asked.
It’s always the question you don’t expect that is to be asked, and looking back now, I can think of a more witty response. I can even think of funny responses, ironic ones, rude ones, but no. Under the pressure of being confronted by Big Face, my wit left me.

“Are you ready?” is all he said.
“What?” I blurted. What. Is that all? Yes it is. I suppose I was still in shock; I suppose my pained face was playing havoc with the nerves. It was almost as if I could see an invisible line connected this point to a thousand others that would eventually lead me through tumultuous times I could never experience again. Times I don’t even like thinking about.
I looked down at Abe’s body; I didn’t want eye contact with Big Face and I was worried that he didn’t reply. Perhaps he had only just noticed the corpse he stood upon. Abe was twisted in a sickening position, I couldn’t get it out of my head and I couldn’t look away. His face… All I could see was blood, though I think it was the back of his head that faced me.

“Your path is changed, this was no accident.” Said Big Face. I couldn’t even contradict him; I looked up and saw a flame on the wall behind him. It danced as if in time to ancient dance. Entire cultures and civilizations revolved around the mysteries of fire, the way it moves, and the way it destroys. And yet, paradoxically, the way it creates! The way it lights, the way it heats. The way that it is possibly the most powerful force on the planet and yet is the most necessary. Indeed, if that small curling orange flame was not there, then I would be in pure darkness; I would be unnaturally cold.

My attention reverted back to Big Face, he moved forwards and put a strong hand on my shoulder. It seemed to push into me. Later, he told it was keep me stable, to calm me down, but I didn’t understand. I remember feeling very calm, considered. Was I being irrational? I had barely moved, surely? His arm moved downwards and grabbed a form hold of my bicep. “Slow down,” he said quietly. Slow down? I was confused, I didn’t fully understand, and so I attempted to speak.
My words (“What do you want from me?”) came out croakily, and I felt a definite quiver in my voice.

“The Shrykull cannot, unfortunately, be ignored. Your path is changed; you are now to be granted gifts. Gifts you will discover on your own, and with these gifts you will regrow our lost civilization.” I nearly interrupted him. “-Wait. These gifts you will realize on your own terms, when your body is ready. Don’t be scared though, ‘cause it’s deeply embedded in you, and will be released in time.”
“I don’t understand. What Shrykull?”
“The Shrykull is more than just a Mudokon Demigod form. There is a definite consciousness there, and it is he who has granted you your powers. No, they are not that of the Shrykull, only the chosen one can fully gain those and the current one… is, well, dead. Your powers are still good and stuff though, just different. Perhaps not quite as powerful, you’ll see. We’ll all hopefully see.” I shuddered; something didn’t seem quite right, and the lack of paramite hisses played ruefully on my mind.

I was about to remove Big Faces hand and coherently ask him what the hell he was talking about when I felt the most enormous tug in a single direction. My vision went black and I felt myself moving.

[Fuzzleman54321]

COOL! Please write more!

[Esus]

The Rule of the Shrykull
Act One: The Fall
Chapter IV

I was spinning in an inexplicable black void. At least I think I was spinning – I certainly felt disorientated and nauseous, but that could be a common reaction to what it was I was going through.
Suddenly, I stopped, and just as suddenly, all feeling of nausea disappeared. Unfortunately the disorientation remained. I think I was lying down, once again going over the prior events in my mind, trying to get a grip of myself, but I know I was on a rough hard and black material – concrete. My clothing was ripped by the concrete in the lower back area, and my face still stung from the earlier fall – and though I had no sense of time in the black void, it obviously didn’t take very long if I was still feeling earlier small wounds.

Instinctively, I looked around for an adversary or a friend, a paramite or a mudokon, but I found none. In front of me was a massive forest of black and grey instruments and machinery rhythmically pulsating whilst belching great clouds of black smoke. As if in response to the smog, I coughed loudly and realized that it not only was expelled from top and rose, but it seemed to be coming from every crack in every metal structure. Furthermore, it created an awful dark fog, partially obscuring everything a few rows of metal structures away.
As such, I couldn’t see what was in the distance, even though I could hear the ear wrenching (yet surprisingly easily blockable) sounds of enormous metal gears screeching and crashing into each other. I also heard what I was sure was the sound of large pumping machinery along with the instantly recognizable sound of a giant well, somewhere in the distance.

Naturally, my first feeling was fear, I backed up slightly and spun around, but there was literally nothing behind me, as far I as could see through the smog, anyway.
I turned back and guessed that Big Face had obviously planned for me to come here. What for? I couldn’t possibly imagine, but the only way forwards was, well, forwards. I took a step ahead onto the rough concrete, and weak loose stones crunched quietly under the wood of my sandle.

I took another few steps, and as I got closer to one of the structures, I heard the faint sound of small machinery. It sounded smoother, and it had a definite pattern to it – I thought I recognized it. There seemed to be four cycles as it got fainter, and then it stopped for a couple of seconds. Just afterwards, it began four cycles again becoming slighter louder and thus more clearer, before stopping for a couple of seconds.
I stopped to listen to it, but it just repeated over and over again, and it seemed implacable.

I moved forwards, as I did, the stones once more crunched, this time more loudly, beneath my feet. As I got closer to the nearest metallic structure, I could make out a bright yellow insignia of a certainly evil face. If I had known then what I know now, I would have probably turned and ran; perhaps I would have chosen a different route, but the patterned metallic noise intrigued me.
I moved slowly even closer, instinctively grabbing the handle of my rough slingshot, stupidly, perhaps. I squinted, and through the fog I saw a robot. Or was it? The bottom was certainly robotic, and I had been told stories about robots many times before… But the top, well, the top was green, living – I could feel its innocent life – and moving in a truly organic way. It held something like a weapon.
I heard a piercing shout, in a garbled language that I took to mean “Freeze!” and instantly, instinctively, I turned ninety degrees and ran. There was the unmistakable sound of piercing gunfire, “Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!”

I saw myself from three hundred feet directly up, easily through the smog. A simple light-ish figure on a vast black plain. Obstacles, there, there and there, each large and cylindrical. Between two of them was an even smaller figure, darker, who was running on metallic legs after me. Zipping in between the large structures, bullets ricocheted of structure after structure, black, sinking liquid, spitting from the holes.

Back to ground level, I didn’t know which way to go. I was blinded by the smog stinging my eyes, and it incensed my throat so that I involuntarily coughed, keeling, whilst running.

[Esus]

This always happens. I think it's why I said I wouldn't write fics anymore ages ago - there's no demand for them.
Well, for some of them.

[Teal]

This always happens. I think it's why I said I wouldn't write fics anymore ages ago - there's no demand for them.
Well, for some of them.

...I think all authors on here have the same problem - especially when it comes to replies. It takes more effort to read a story and make a pertinent comment than to ogle a picture and say "nice", after all... At least you've had over 100 pageviews, so someone's looking.

[Esus]

Yes, all writers do seem to have such a problem. Such is life.

The Rule of the Shrykull
Act One: The Fall
Chapter V

My throat and eyes simultaneously stung; I could feel my sharp breaths ripping against my windpipe as if it had been rubbed raw. I felt a metal slug scrape against the top of the right soldier and gasped in pain. I fell, fully this time, and landed on the harsh terrain with hands outstretched.
A haunting chuckle behind me. I rolled onto my back and held a hand in front of my eyes, for protection, both against my attacker and against the smog. The robotic legs had stopped. Another chuckle. Where was he? What was he going to do? I made a spluttering cough and once more heard the metallic legs coming towards me.

I flailed my hand around aimlessly, hitting the ground and picking up multiple loose handfuls of gravel; essentially in a state of panic. Then the obvious idea struck me, probably too late. I picked up a stronger handful of gravel and carefully waited. I heard the metallic legs stop moving and I dared to remove my hand from covering my eyes.
He was right there. Gruesomely brown, though I think I saw splashes of dark green under it. I later found out they were called sligs. They have no discernible mouths, but instead their faces are home to a number of freakish tentacles. It was from these tentacles that the sound came from; I remember them jiggling in the most unsettling way whenever they laughed. Their arms are small, emaciated with disproportionate fingers, suitable used to carry their high-tech firearms.

The slig in front of me leant forwards and rammed the nozzle of its gun into my chest. I then did perhaps the most stupid thing – I should have done it earlier, when there was less danger – I recklessly threw the stones in my hand at it’s eyes. Well, it’s mask which was cleverly designed to protect the eyes against such attacks.
The slig yelped in obvious surprise, and next came the crucial event. Slowing things down once again, the top half of the slig (the legs remained motionless) leaned backwards in surprise. The gun and hand came back from my body a few inches, and possibly by accident, I don’t know, the sligs finger pertinently pushed into the trigger. A burst of three bullets launched from the barrel, making the gun recoil so that two of them embedded in my left shoulder, and one in the dirt just above of it.

My cry of pain was sure to attract even more attention.

[odd chick]

This story is great, Esus. I am simply amazed-you have phenomenal writing skills! I love how you bring the main character's thoughts, feelings, and personality out because it makes the reader feel as if he/she can relate to those feelings. Don't stop writing because it's great-it's one of the best I've ever read!