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The Buff Butcher from the Future

Image created with Midjourney.

I’ve fought this war for so long. Day after grueling, agonizing day. Repeatedly I am covered in sweat and dirt, in mud and someone else’s blood. A friend, an animal, both. No matter how many times I wash myself, I shall never be clean again. Assuming I make it out of this dreadful place alive. I will try, I damn sure will try. 

My whites are dirty again. These demons, these decrepit worms that slither round the earth and feast on our scraps for sustenance, they have taken my pride. I don’t feel things like pride anymore, nor happiness, joy, sadness. For I am now simply hateful. Not angry, hateful. Anger dissipates, it comes and goes like the tide fills the port, ebbs and flows of water arriving and then leaving. Hate sticks like honey, it covers your heart in the sticky sweet mess. It tastes wonderful, it protects you from your own flaws because mmm ahh, it’s so much more lovely to blame someone else. I believed, once, that hate was a design flaw. To not forgive, a greater sin that could easily be avoided. But I love my hate, therefore I am always hateful and always will be. 

I wish.

I wish.

I wish I could get these fucking pigs in the slaughterhouse before fucking noon. They’re going to die anyway. Why not make it easier on me? JUST GO THE FUCK INSIDE! I hate pigs, I fucking hate pigs.

Everyday I get a ridiculous amount of everything on me because not only do I get blood on my clothes, but everything else they burrow into as well! Fuck a pig, a pig can kiss my ass. Let ‘em get eaten by a great big whatever the fuck. 

How the fuck I did get to this backwater ass time? It was supposed to be one simple trip to the 6th Krona, just one! You do one exploratory mission well and all of a sudden they want more. FUCK! I’ve gotta chill out. In case I don’t make it out here because of plague or dysentery I have got to let someone know what the hell happened.  

Listen, I know about the Link, and I know that you’re listening so write this down so I can die having my story written the way I fucking want it, okay? Share it or whatever the hell you people do.

My name is Corielis Set. I was born on the planet Salva 10 in a binary system called Kaita. Fuck, it is such a nice place. I mean everything was green and purple, the water glistened in the morning lavender sun. It’s a paradiso, compared to Earth. 

In my society Earth and its history is considered a museum kronaline, or timeline, depending on when you’re reading this. We have perfected krona-travel, so much so that we can isolate an entire planet’s history and explore it without risk of disrupting future events. I’m an explorer for the Human Delegation on Salva 10. Kaita is a part of a larger federation spanning 254 systems and over 400 planets, The Zenith Alliance of Planets, ZAP for short. In the past 12,000 years humans have developed at an increasingly faster rate than anyone could’ve predicted. Safe to say, now everyone comes to us when they want something done right. The Ankarans, an aquatic humanoid species, and the Aguilans, an aviary race, are our best friends. If the galaxy was a Secondary Intergalactic Institution we would be the baddest bitches there. 

Enter me. I was selected by the Aguilan Scientific Branch to head an expedition into the 22nd krona, century, on Earth. At this point Earth had just perfected their first sustainable fuel source, T-5 Ultra. A mix of deuterium and tritium which not only powered their spacecraft but their planet as well. Me, being the foremost expert on human behavior and technology through the ages, was naturally recruited. Two military personnel, two anthropologists, and myself made this journey. 

It went well, not one fucking hiccup. We got back when suddenly my communicator began ringing and dinging uncontrollably. We’d only been gone 12 days at most, what could have possibly happened? Well apparently the entire thing was recorded and broadcast to the entire alliance by one of the anthropologists, sneaky bastard. Everyone saw what a wonderful and knowledgeable man I was. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t nice. See, in the alliance intelligence and talent are worth as much as rhodium slabs. Men, women, everyone was practically throwing themselves at me. 

I was happy at first, really glad.As time went on more contracts for guides came from the historical guilds across the alliance. Soon after I was commissioned as an Official Military Technology Expert & Guide, but with that the danger of the missions increased. This time, we were meant to retrieve an item said to be for a museum. In truth it was a uranium based item, something the military wanted to use but had been destroyed in Earths’ 24th krona. It needed to be pure, like the kind used during the era of the Roman Empire by so called alchemists that change ceramic and glass yellow. 

I don’t know why they needed it so bad, I’m not that kind of scientist. I did always suspect that there was an evil element to the alliance. Any force of power that large was always bound to have some sinister power behind its mask, peaceful as it may try to be. 

Anyway, we arrived only to discover that we were accidentally dropped off in the middle of a warzone. Same amount of people as all the others, now thinking about it, we should’ve brought more military personnel. Who knows what minor battle this was, they were always fighting about something. This era was increasingly violent, and didn’t get better for some time. We quickly activated our environmental cloaks that camouflage us with the surrounding area. Sadly, that doesn’t keep us from being shot, stabbed, or even tripped over. We simply do our best to stay out of the way. One of the anthropologists was stabbed while we were escaping the battle, the bastard that did it had no clue he dug his sword into a mans’ arm. He saw blood and thought “Good on ya lad.”

Lieutenant Scale, one of the military personnel accompanying us, said that something about the area felt off. Scale was a temporalist, a human that feels shifts within time more deeply than others. She said that the battle didn’t make sense, no battle had occurred in the area and we should not be here. She attempted to activate her Kronal Shift Module, time was set, area and coordinates in the general direction of the shuttle. Nothing happened, we didn’t move and a battle was still raging beyond the trees. 

It wasn’t long before we realized we were quite stuck in this krona, and that someone mucked something up completely. Something within Earths’ kronatime had been tampered with, it was no longer museum status. What the hell is the problem? We still don’t know. We humans have found ways to avoid death for a time, not immortality but we live a long fucking time. In my krona the average lifespan is 1206 years. My grandmother still dates 35 year olds and she’s been kicking for at least 600 years. I just turned 124, today actually, and I’ve been stuck here since I was 82. 42 years now we’ve been posing as butchers in some bullshit town in what will be England one day. We’ll have to leave soon, save no one burns us for witchcraft first.

We still have our creature comforts courtesy of the alliance. Scale was able to get a transmission to the Alliance Authorities about our situation, apparently it was an anomaly, things can come in but nothing can get out. Something about the kronatime being disrupted by a new element, it created a seal on anything leaving the krona. I find that to be bullshit as well but I’ve always been a skeptic. Out of the hundreds of visits to various kronatimes every month, we were the only ones that got stuck in one. Either way, we received supplies to build a structure to last a couple decades as well as a military grade cloaking device big enough to hide a small city if we wanted it to. We’re protected by drugs that make people forget what they’ve seen and an AI home security software, keeps everything running and quiet. Leaves us time to do whatever research we need to do, at least we found the uranium the military was looking for. I guess that’s an achievement. 

Scale and Marla, our muscles, Tint and Kalabri, our anthros, and me, a buff butcher from the future. The Buff Butcher from the Future, I quite like how that sounds. Name this entry that, whichever Link you are. Yeah. We’ll talk again soon. Back to my fucking pain in the ass pigs.


Hyacinth Facile and the Daxmina Magic

Solemn appearances often contain the most cynical hearts. Inside the quiet and demure shell of a person can exist oceans with waves that whip in rage and neverending screams. Such was the case of Hyacinth Facile, a young charming human mage girl from the sulfury hills of Rexicor’s southern region. Raised in a diverse little village named Ignima’s Hope, she learned tolerance and patience for other cultures and beliefs. She took a specific interest in the draconic rituals of the native Daxminas. 

She sought out the southern tribes, witnessing their fire dances and flight ceremonies performed to appease their volcanic god. The northern Daxminas who divine the future in the way the snow falls, and add piercings to their wings for status and flair. The eastern shore where the Elders sit and ponder on the power of lightning, teaching the young to master its harsh yet effective attributes. The western hills, where the woodland tribes care for the vast ecosystem which was painstakingly created by their ancestors. The four stoic and regal Daxmina Altruista, who are revered today as Gods amongst their descendants, created the continent of Rexicor by their own collective talents. They used the powers of ice, lightning, fire, and nature to create the beautifully split continent. It is said that each Daxmina Altruista lives within the tallest mountain of each region, speaking to the Elders through the sounds of the winds, music of the caves, and spouts of lava, respectively. They teach peace and kindness, to not war but love each other, for the lack of love between the Altruista led to the great war which was waged thousands of years ago. 

The Holy War between the four Daxmina Altruista nearly destroyed the planet. It was not until they looked at their handiwork that they realized that war would do nothing but destroy the home they so dearly wanted to thrive. A spell lost to time and known only to the Altruista was used to create what is the shining and diverse continent of Rexicor. Daxmina Altruista Ignima was given the south, for her fiery and combatant temper to reign free in the land. If Rexicor had any warriors, it would be them. Daxmina Altruista Glacia was given north, where her pure and cold demeanor could rule over all. Think of them as the scholars of the continent. Daxmina Altruista Fulgus took charge of the east, where a never ending storm of thunder and lightning ravages the land as he speaks to the Elderan Council. Daxmina Altruista Qualita personally engineered the lush and vast forests of the west, allowing his creativity to roam and his spirit to remain in the animals that evolved there. 

Hyacinth studied the Daxmina intensely, hoping to uncover their secrets. She wished to master the power given to the descendants of the Altruista, to learn the ways of the dragons. She was an unlikely suspect for magical prowess, especially that of the draconic variety. Draconic magic is notoriously violent and harsh, quite the opposite of the species. Most Daxmina abhor any form of harsh community engagement, some even swear off yelling. However their religion, the source and well of their magic, is rooted in combat with the elements and philosophical combat with each other. The debates are held in the original language of the Daxmina Altruista, a language that summons the elements when spoken. 

A famed Ignima elder, Suva Kilmarix , was famed for only speaking the original tongue. His choice was accompanied by him only speaking in the presence of other Daxmina who could bare the harsh heat and fire storms summoned by his speech. To be Daxmina is to be kind, to be a dragon is to be feared. Feared they are, if the Daxmina ever did choose violence over their peaceful nature to defeat the Velt, it would be a very short and easily won war. No magic rivaled that of the draconic speech, none ever could. 

Frail, tiny, pale Hyacinth had a storm raging in her soul, which did rival the natural powers of the Daxmina. She only needed to access and manifest it. She had a deep and sick desire to be feared by all peoples. Tolerance, peace, diversity, nothing appealed to her more than conquest. Nothing mattered more than power, nothing made her giddy inside the way the idea of ruling a kingdom of her own did. She knew it was wrong, she knew she was raised better than to want to subjugate and harm. She settled for the mastering of the power, the subjugation would have to remain a twisted fantasy forced to the back of her mind. 

She had been focused on some scrolls regarding Daxmina training rituals for the young dragons just hatched when she came across a book entitled “The Histories and Magical Secrecies of Rexicor.” She found a passage that described in great detail what made the Daxmina so powerful. The binding was old and tattered but it was determined to stay together. She encountered the book in the deepest most dank area of the Daxmina Continental Library. Something pulled her to it, a force of some kind. It was her deepest hope that the gut feeling would pay off.

Antecedentia Daxmina Altruista, a xenophobic race of intelligent dragons. Their relatives Humilis Intelligentia Daxmina, less developed than their counterparts mostly relying on natural survival instinct, but highly skilled in the use of draconic magic. The Daxmina Altruista had abandoned their natural proclivity to magic and developed to the point of creating advancements in technology, building skyscrapers of great heights, and making scientific advancements, the likes of which may have rivaled those discoveries being made today.   A plague called Al-Uxmar, which rendered the individual that contracted it to run mad, nearly wiped out most of their civilization. Altruista scholars had foretold that in order for the draconic races to thrive and prosper, a joining must be had. A joining of those dragons that run off instinct, and those that exist in logic and intelligence. For to be a dragon is, first and foremost, to be feared AND cunning.This revelation came years before the plague was introduced into the population.

That word “introduced” did not sit well with her. To be introduced is to be brought to, to be put into something by an outside or familiar entity. Any other phrasing would be sufficient. The plague “developed from a lack of” or “was first contracted due to”. It also suggests that they know what caused it. Was the plague an artificial phenomenon? What was this book not saying, why did she have more questions than answers, questions unrelated to her original mission? Or was it?

The Daxmina Altruista were forced to return to the magical practices, which are now upheld and practiced widely throughout Daxmina society. The spell to call the four winds was performed by the Altruista. This spell is used only in times of great crisis. When the Daxmina had no one to turn to but each other. Weak as it was, it called the Humilis to the sacred eastern cliffs of Rexicor. Though the Humilis did not understand logic, they understood magic. They knew what the purpose of the winds were for and what they needed to do. The Humilis and Altruista came together, sacrificing lives in that era to ensure the lives of future generations, to create the four beings that we now know as the Prima Daxmina Altruista. The dragons, as we know them today, were created from the essence of these four entities. Only one with the spark of the four Daxmina Altruista can fully experience the power of a dragon. The spark fuels the abilities which the Daxmina naturally possess. As we are aware of, there is no non-Daxmina or non-draconic individual that has been able to master draconic magics successfully. 

Assuming the plague developed on its own in the bodies of the Altruista, it would have had to have been there in another form. Al-Uxmar. That is not a typical Daxmina description for an illness. They were meticulous in giving scientific names to scientific things, to connect an illness with an emotion is nearly unheard of. As far as Hyacinth knew Al-Uxmar translates to “Our Great Shame”, and she knew a lot. Ux was used as emphasis, to put significance upon. If the Altruista were as orderly and erudite as described then they may view madness as a shameful experience. In madness one has no control over themself and is therefore simply running off instinct and possibly fear off of…

INSTINCT! 

The Altruista were turning into the Humilis, the madness was a de-evolution or evolution, depending on how you view it (and who came first). The only way to save any semblance of their advanced society was to force evolution further, to bend it to their will instead of waiting for it to come drunk knocking at an open door. 

The Humilis, magically skilled as they were, must have seemed wholly inadequate to the Altruista. They needed power and intelligence to save what they created. The joining seemed the most logical way. The only way she would be as powerful at draconic magic as a dragon was now clear.

A. Find a sample of the plague to force herself into becoming a Humilis or;

B. Kill and steal the Altruista spark of a Daxmina.

It was no wonder they had hidden this book in the darkest most decrepit part of the library, hidden in plain sight to deter interest. One could only imagine how many creatures would run around hunting Daxmina for sport in an attempt to steal their spark. She had a choice and a mystery to solve. The mystery; finding out which entity wanted the Altruista and Humilis to join so badly that they would force an entire society to change into the thing they despise. Was that even the goal or a happy accident? Who did this? Could she do it again? Or would she decide that this was farther than she was willing to go in her search for power?