The Story Begins
Since this is not a first person story, please choose a character to follow:
Jake Warrens: the leader of a small refugee group that has converted an office building into a hide-out.
Laura Hawkins: a forest-ranger who's avoided detection by avoiding major cities since the invasion. She's mostly a loner.
Rysthin Dor'Vool: A seasoned radinri scout and hunter, recently assigned to earth.
Ry William: A 10-year-old mature kid who trained himself to fight. An excellent fighter, and not too shabby with guns and bows. A kind spirit. Doesn't kill. Is a peace-maker, but likes to punch first and ask questions later. Believes peace can be made between humans and Radinri. Is very good with animals.
Matteus Spail:Survivor from Africa
Written by on 01 July 2008
Dor'Vool's Story
Rysthin Dor'Vool paced the briefing room. He was a well-built liontaur, entirely black save for his piercing blue eyes, and the snow-white mane that grew from his head down the humanoid portion of his back. He had also been a well-respected hunter, both privately, and in service to the Radinri Military. Still, he was getting older. Some of the younger scouts were vying to take his place, and he sensed that his being assigned to Earth was an effort to get him out of the way. That, compounded with the fact that he hadn't gotten to hunt since leaving the Homeworld over a month ago, and the fact that his superior officer was late for the briefing, brought great unease to the normally cool-headed hunter.
"Rysthin Dor'Vool!" came a voice from behind him. He turned sharply.
"Armak Kilyea," he said formally, bowing low.
"Oh, stop being so old-fashioned," Kilyea laughed. She was a gold-colored tigresstaur, with subtle blue stripes. "You don't have to bow to me just because I'm an Armak now."
"Well," Dor'Vool muttered, "I'm not one to dispense with traditions, and after all, you're not just an Armak, you've been given governorship, I hear."
"Stop. I'm barely an Armak, and you know it. There's no real honor in being assigned to this mudball of a planet, after all...no offense."
"None taken," answered Dor'Vool, bitterly. "But if you don't mind, It's been too long since I've hunted, so I'd like to get my assignment and leave."
"Well," Kilyea stiffened, "if you're going to be that way, fine." She tapped the control console in the center of the room, and the large viewscreen lit up with a map of the region. "As you've probably guessed, we're in the ruins of what used to be one of the largest Human cities. Obviously, most of the inhabitants were wiped out when our campaign began, but there have been pockets of resistance forming in the wreckage, and we need to flush them out. Unfortunately, we can't just level the city; most of the buildings can be converted for our purposes after this is over with, and besides, the Humans have gone underground. They have a subterranean transport system. Obviously the trains are no longer running, but they can walk through the tunnels undetected, even by our best scanners. Your job will be to seek out and destroy whatever Humans you can find. They're disgustingly social creatures, always traveling in badly-organized herds, so you should be able to track all but the smartest of them with ease."
"Hunting down Humans," Dor'Vool spat, "I'd rather shoot Aanj'ei in a barrel."
"Now, now...Humans can make for more interesting prey than I think you realize. They have weapons--"
"They have bullet-guns. I'd hardly call those weapons."
"They've killed five of our hunters already."
"And we've killed billions of theirs. Kilyea, you know the proverb: If a hunter is stalking a tar rat and trips, it is not a credit to the tar rat but a discredit to the hunter. Foolish hunters can die going after even the weakest prey, that doesn't make the prey any stronger."
"They're sentient."
"So what? They're weak. That's all that matters."
"Well," Kilyea went on, "if you're really all that disparate for a challenge, you're being given Watches as part of your pay. They've already been loaded onto your ship."
(Watches is the human term for the device, but since Radinri is often difficult to translate exactly, the word will have to suffice. The Watches Kilyea spoke of were small, spider-like devices, so named because they connect to their victim at the wrist. Their purpose is to transform weak, predictable prey (like humans) into stronger, more interesting animals, to give bored hunters an extra challenge. The transformation is exquisitely painful, much to the amusement of the Radinri.)
"Careful, though," continued Kilyea, "the planet is under strict quarantine, so you can only transform the Humans into other animals native to Earth."
"Fine," Dor'Vool sighed.
"Cheer up, Dor'Vool. The other Rysthins might not realize it, but someday this planet will be a paradise. We'll have bred the stronger animals to repopulate the planet, so the younger hunters will have a place to hone their skills. Not all of them can learn on the Qa'Araq Moons like you and I did."
At that moment, a servant burst in and knelt before the tigresstaur. He was a cat-taur, like all Radinri, but its upper half was decidedly that of a Human. It was a Convert, a Radinri who had formerly been a member of another species. Dor'Vool eyed it suspiciously.
"Armak Kilyea," the servant said, careful not to meet Kilyea's eyes, "I bear a message from the Colonial Council." The servant then handed Kilyea a data cube, which she pushed into the control console as she waved the servant away. Kilyea did not display the message on the room's large screen, but instead read it off the console, where Dor'Vool couldn't see it.
"Strange," she said at last, "they say they want prisoners. I'm to instruct the hunters to spare the most intelligent, resourceful humans, and bring them...here." As she said this, she shifted the onscreen map to a chain of islands in the middle of the planet's larger ocean."
"Converts?" Dor'Vool asked.
"The message doesn't say. I'd assume not, though. We've got conversion tanks on most of our larger ships, so I don't see the point in concentrating all the conversions into one location, especially an inconveniently located island chain. Ah, well," she said, hitting the console and banishing the map. "You can see, becoming an Armak isn't all it's cracked up to be. They still don't tell me anything."
Dor'Vool, for the first time since leaving the Homeworld, laughed.
"Now, before I forget...again," Kilyea chuckled, "I should introduce you to your partner."
"Hello," said a voice. Dor'Vool spun around. Standing not six feet from him was a much younger hunter. He was a liontaur, like Dor'Vool, but instead of the conservative black white and blue coloring Dor'Vool had chosen, this young hunter was gaudily colored in a red and blue flame pattern, with bright green eyes and a golden mane.
"Rysthin Dor'Vool," interjected Kilyea, "This is Rysthin Guer'Re"
"I...I didn't see you there," sputtered Dor'Vool, "--brother," he hastened to add. Dor'Vool and Guer'Re were not related, but it was Radinri custom to address members off the same caste as siblings. Dor'Vool had almost called Kilyea "sister," a serious faux pas, although she wouldn't have minded.
"A true hunter is only seen just before the kill, brother," Guer'Re laughed.
"Ah," answered Dor'Vool, you've read the Diaries, then, have you?"
"The what?"
"The Hunters' Diaries," pressed Dor'Vool.
"Oh...I'm not especially religious...sorry," said Guer'Re.
"I'm not either. I just thought you'd read them, because that line is from the Book of the Firstborn: "I lie now, in the darkness. But to my prey I am the darkness, for a true hunter is only seen just before the kill."
"Well, then, Rysthin," interrupted Kilyea, "Shall I escort you to your ship? There's a cruiser waiting for you outside, if you'll just follow me."
Written by Zodiac on 04 July 2008
On the Hunt
Silent and invisible. Like a hunter, the small but powerful Radinri cruiser flew low over the wrecked cityscape, as Rysthins Dor'Vool and Guer'Re sought their prey from above. The ship's powerful scanners would detect any humans at the surface--now the hunters had only to wait, as they relaxed in the ship's cockpit.
"Dor'Vool," started Guer'Re, "do you mind if I put on some music? I always like listening to music before a hunt."
"That depends on the music, I suppose," Dor'Vool answered.
"Is Doakram Vithiin alright with you?" asked Guer'Re. Dor'Vool smiled. Vithiin happened to be Dor'Vool's favorite composer.
"That'd be fine." Guer'Re cycled through the ship's control cconsole, finally settling on Vithiin's Third Symphony.
The music began with a solo: an obviously sentient creature wept quietly, begging for mercy. The pleas slowly became faster, louder, and more desperate, until finally they gave way to a scream of pain. The first scream died, and was replaced by two voices screaming together, then four, then eight, then finally a screeching multitude in purest agony. The music crescendoed beautifully, as the screams were joined by sobs and cries. The exquisite sounds of pain floated through the cruiser's cockpit, as the two liontaurs inside savored its beauty. Such music would have been considered unpalatable by humans, but Doakram Vithiin was the Radinri equivalent of Mozart; he had been the undisputed master of his art, and his music was still loved centuries after his death.
"You know," said Guer'Re over the screams, "They say Vithiin was a Convert. He was born a Reptilian from the...Vega system, I think."
"What of it?" asked Dor'Vool.
"Well, I'm just making conversation, mostly. But I think it's interesting that Vithiin wasn't born Radinri, but he makes such amazing music."
"That's true, it is interesting. It's also very rare for a Convert to even become a Doakram."
(There are five castes in Radinri society. Each Radinri's name and, to a lesser extent, coloring, reflected their position in the hierarchy.
At the bottom were the Thess, the slaves and prisoners of war. They were all Converts, and were generally given dull coloring to reflect their status. Above them were the Quara, the wage-earning servants. They, too, were dull-colored, and were mostly Converts, although their were a few native-born Radinri among them. Normally, a Convert would consider themselves lucky if they could ascend to the upper ranks of the Quara, but Vithiin was an exception. He was a member of the Doakram, the Radinri commoners. They consisted of all free Radinri who were not hunters or rulers. They tended to prefer natural tones for their coloring, but no laws barred them from the more elaborate colorings enjoyed by the higher ranks, provided they could afford it. Above them were the Rysthin, the hunters, and above them were the Armak, the rulers. They could have whatever coloring they wanted (using the Radinri's genetic modification technology to make cosmetic changes was quite common).)
The music reached its conclusion, a single drawn-out moan. As soon as it finished, the monitor lit up and a soft alarm warbled, indicating that a target had been spotted. Dor'Vool put the ship into a hover, directly over the humans. There were two of them, sleeping outside in what had, before the invasion, been a public park. It had since become wild and overgrown, and the humans must have thought the trees would shield them from the hunters.
Guer'Re turned to his companion. "Ready for a hunt?" he asked, eagerly.
"Hold on," said Dor'Vool, "there are only two of them, hardly worth killing just yet. Plus, it's midday, and humans aren't naturally nocturnal. So they're probably traveling, hoping to move under cover of darkness. Wherever they're headed, there's bound to be more humans. Perhaps we should just follow, for now."
"I want to HUNT!" roared Guer'Re. "And I know you just got here. You don't know how much fun Humans can be yet."
"They're asleep," countered Dor'Vool. "There's hardly a challenge in killing something in its sleep."
"We've got watches," Guer'Re reminded him, "the transformation will wake them up, and give us an extra challenge. We can even give them a head start."
"I still say it would be more prudent to follow them, but I'm also itching for a kill. Plus, I don't think I've ever transformed sentient prey before. I'd like to see how humans take it. I could go either way."
Written by Zodiac on 04 July 2008
Prey
"Well," Guer'Re said grinning, "if you can go either way and I want to hunt them, it looks like we're going to hunt them."
"Fair enough," Dor'Vool said. "But we do need to find their tunnels sooner or later."
"Later, then" Guerre said, getting up. "I'll grab our weapons."
"Oh...no weapons," Dor'Vool interrupted. "Just tooth-and-claw."
"Tooth-and-claw?" Guer'Re was incredulous. "On prey you've never seen before?"
"I like a challenge," Dor'Vool shrugged, landing the ship silently on a road near the humans' camp.
"I like the way you think," Guer'Re laughed.
Tooth-and-claw is a very literal translation of Dor'Vool's preferred fighting style. It is actually a single word in Radinri, referring to a tradition among hunters. While Radinri weaponry can reduce a human to a pile of ashes in an instant, many warriors prefer to fight without weapons or armor. Actually coming into contact with prey gives the hunt an almost sensual element.
The hunters took only a pair of watches for the humans they were stalking. They waited in the underbrush, watching the sleeping bodies. Guer'Re programmed the watches gleefully.
"You'll like these animals," Guer'Re said. "Fast, strong, intelligent. They make great prey."
"I'm a little peckish, actually," Dor'Vool answered. "How do they taste."
Guer'Re shrugged. "Alright, I suppose." Guer'Re handed a watch to Dor'Vool, and they crept closer to the sleeping humans. Closer inspection revealed them to be one male and one female, sleeping close together, facing each other. "Dibs on the female," Guer'Re whispered.
This, however, woke the humans up. They shot up and froze, staring wide-eyed at the hunters. Typical weakling prey reaction, Dor'Vool thought, until one spoke.
"Please," the male said, "please, sweet Jesus, no...Don't hurt us," he went on, begging for his life. Guer'Re laughed.
"I love the noises these creatures make," he said.
"You don't understand them?" Dor'Vool asked.
"You do?" Guer'Re replied.
"I always study an opponents language before going to war," Guer'Re answered.
"This isn't a war, it's a slaughter," Guer'Re chuckled, dropping his watch. Guer'Re hesitated, then dropped his. They scuttled over to the humans, and each one latched onto one of the humans' wrists.
<spanFullTF>"Oh God...no!" the female screamed. Immediately their legs gave out, and they sprawled on the ground in agony. Dor'Vool watched as the pair slowly changed...their fingers stiffened and then fused together into hooves. Short fur grew on them--dark brown on the male, gray on the female--and they both grew considerably larger, tearing out of the clothing they were wearing. For Dor'Vool, however, the most fascinating part was the look in their eyes, especially as the faces changed, expanding outward. It was an intense physical pain, but there was an emotional anguish he never got to see in a non-sentient creature before.
"M-m-monsters," the male said just before his voice changed to a whinny. "Monsters" was the last word he would ever say. As their feet became hooves as well and they sprouted tails, the change was completed. They stood, shakily, moving awkwardly in their new bodies.<spanFullTF><spanSumTF>The humans turned into horses, although Dor'Vool wouldn't have known what to call them.</spanSumTF>
"These are called 'horses,'" Guer'Re explained. "A favorite of mine."
"They're not running," Dor'Vool complained. "They won't be any fun to kill if they just stand there."
"Give them a moment," Guer'Re answered, "let instinct take over, and then..." He roared loudly at them. The horses spooked, reared up, and then darted off into the forest. The hunters waited a little bit, and then ran off after them.
Chasing his petrified quarry through the overgrown park, Dor'Vool felt more alive than he had in ages. Occasionally he would catch a flash of Guer'Re's lavish coloring, but mostly he was alone with his prey. The panicked horse ran erratically, stopping and changing direction every now and then, making the chase all the more fun. Soon enough, though, Dor'Vool was upon it. He pounced, and pinned the creature easily. The horse turned to look at him, and he sensed that, even transformed, there was still a fully sentient human trapped in the horse's body. Dor'Vool decided that enough was enough. Still pinning the creature with his forelegs, he reached forward with his humanoid but still cat-like arms. He cradled the horse's head, almost tenderly, and then with one swift movement, snapped its neck. One more flash of pain in the prey's eyes, and it was over. Dor'Vool bit into the former human, and enjoyed his first meal on this strange new world...
Written by Zodiac on 05 April 2009
