Utrax

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery (A melancholic dark-fantasy set in a post-post apocalyptic world)

^{Hope Passage :::: @Drag@Luminous Beings}

When the man next to Ziz began laughing, a sliver of amusement actually crept into their chuckle. Here was another fine specimen-- well muscled and strong looking-- how fantastic an idea this had been! If all of these creatures planned on traveling together, even? Well then that would make everything all the better-- so much data could be gathered that Ziz figured they would need several more books. "Such a fine occasion, in which we find ourselves thusly," Ziz rasped, chittered, and clicked at the large being next to themselves, if only to court out the stirrings of jolly camaraderie from them.

Ways of the MEATSKINS involved such vocal dances and social navigation, as they were highly social pack animals-- it was all so simple but quite flat. These creatures relied on their flabby faces, their gesticulations, and their voices-- there were no temperature, scent, double-voice musicalities, or even complex multi-armed gestures in communication with them. Sure, they exhibited a wide range of voice pitches and scents, but they seemed mostly imperceptible other MEATSKINS and uncontrolled, which was rather baffling. Flat and dry and simple-- easy but not straightforward. Sentences and sentences after exhausting sentences to relay what took only a moment for the Gi-Syn-Yi.

Just as Ziz began to inwardly sigh, anticipating the inevitable response from the big Axe Man, unconsciously their antennae quivered with anticipation, as an even FINER specimen stomped into the tent. This towering Golem was one of the first Ziz had seen themselves, though there were records of them at home-- which wasn't too surprising since there were records for nearly every creature, back home. To see one moving, though? And to see it exhibiting some semblance of personal awareness? Ziz was staring at the golem now, intrigued and curious, practically vibrating with delight, when the Old Kaimerian walked in.

Now this-- this was a Physical Sciences and Creature Demibiographcation find for the century!

Plenty of Kairmeians had volunteered for vivisection and they practically threw their cadavers about for good use, but never one to such an age. Antenna wiggling, tongue flicking, and head tilted, Ziz tried to hear and smell over the nonsense happening in the tent-- was this Kaimerian alone? Were their senses mistaking them? Surely no one would leave one such as this alone to walk the desert and-- the bared belly and weathered skin on display? That could only mean--

"My my, Esteemed and Blessed Mother," the Vrxyl began in a voice, which crept through dark caves and chilled test subjects volunteers to the core, "Art thou here alone?" Again, Ziz began a low snickering-- the sound hissing and clicking with their dry vocal anatomy.

"That is enough!" Came the voice behind, causing Ziz to turn around slowly, if only to... leave the question suspended there. Oh, their mind did wander, quite quickly to the task of how they would get that Kaimerian beneath the sand. Seeing as they could not do it, as this would sever any sort of possibility for trust within the MEATSKIN heard, they would have to scent mark her. Yes... if the Vrxyl could get close enough to the Old Mother, for a long enough time, then they could spread enough pheromone salve and scent upon her so as to start a chain-- one strong gust would send the message, more would get it, carry it, and then--

"...These terms cannot be negotiated."

"I accept these terms," Ziz spoke up immediately, bowing with two arms, as they skillfully stowed away their journal. They truly had no interest in seeing Exhusia, the queen, nothing of the sort. Their mind had become focused on the singular task of how they could manage it-- to capture the Kaimerian.

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery (A melancholic dark-fantasy set in a post-post apocalyptic world)

^{Hope Passage}

A sharpened pincer tip emerged from the sand, much to the distress of a neaby horse and-- what was that other thing called? It heed and hawed as the rest of Ziz emerged from the sand. Hooves readjusted to the shifting sand and the animals pulled at their posts. Turning around-- head and pincer out of the sand only-- with the ease of a swimmer in water, Ziz took an already bored look around at the tents. With a forceful thrust, that further disturbed the horses and elicited a few startled yelps from people nearby, Ziz emerged fully from the sand with enough force to send them a couple of inches from the ground. Of course, they were fully expecting their appearance to catch a bit of attention.

An armored Gi-Syn-Yi didn't usually present themselves to the surface. Their armor, crafted from their chitin, had likely not been seen on the surface world in the last century. Usually, when volunteering, the Gi-Syn-Yi would clad themselves in the weird minerals and ores of the surface people, so as to slightly-blend in better, but Ziz knew that crap was... crappy. For the best means of survivability, Ziz opted for not wearing that flimsy surface trash. MEATSKINS nearby shouted to others then ran back-- of course, Ziz knew this was a different set of beings, but they all kind of looked the same, really.

With a hand thrust inside their armor, Ziz quickly produced their invitation, as the MEATSKIN with the dingus point-stick approached them, with their face all scrunched up, whilst reeking of stress-- one of the smellier scents they could have. The Human Male, as they seemed to smell and sound, said something or other that didn't matter, and Ziz turned away from him-- starting off toward the entrance of the tent they were next to. Their emergence had been calculated a little off-- yes, this was the correct tent, but Ziz honestly didn't mean to emerge in this spot. The idea had been to emerge in the middle of the tent, tear up the furniture a bit, then present the startled MEATSKIN with... the gift.

Not bothering to shake off any excess sand, the Vrxyl moved into the tent, trailing a sufficient amount of sand as they went along. As expected, several others were already assembled within, and they were going about their greetings and mumblings and other such social procedures-- one of them had even brought an entire horse in. Snickering lowly, Ziz moved off to the side of the entryway. One hand took out their journal, while another hand held up "their" invitation, which was really a donation the Hv-Jit had acquired from a volunteer, and another of their hands got to scribbling in the journal.

Truly, this was a momentous occasion worth documenting. Greeting the stupid MEATSKIN representative with their gift required some timing now, as they appeared to be busy with someone attempting to explain cartography to them. To Ziz, it was just another rock among rocks, but they knew how much value other creatures place upon such things. In order to get as much spectacle and observations out of the MEATSACKS as possible, Ziz had to wait... and plan. Ah, things were bound to grow interesting rather quickly, with such an interesting mix of beings. Their snickering continued, shifting into something of a low, creepy, bug cackle.

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery (A melancholic dark-fantasy set in a post-post apocalyptic world)

Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl

_______________________________ NAME: Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl AGE: 40 RACE: Gi-Syn-Yi PRONOUNS: They/Them; "The Vrxyl" HOMETOWN: Hv-Yit-Ki HEIGHT: 4ft 8in to head 6ft to horn tip WEIGHT: 62lbs _______________________________ "Oh, ho ho, did you know that MEATSKINS are vulnerable to BROKEN BONES? Observe!"

_______________________________ the Brute Scholar the Brute Scholar "Breakthrough. So close. It smells like victory!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ What are you? What are you? APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Functional. Practical. Nothing else!" A carapace of grey iridescently reflects the sunlight. Chitin armor, light and roped together, tops an already near-impenetrable body. Large yellow eyes , which reflect the light with a tapetum lucidum, stare from the base of a large and deadly sharp pincer. Their eyes are covered by two dark lens caps, which cling to the surface of their hardened eyeballs closely. Their dull and well-worn leather pants act as extra storage, for their legs are quite thin, and Gi-Syn-Yi have no need for such "decencies". Within the many pockets are writing utensils, a journal, substances for medicine, bandages, a small looking-glass, vials and small jars for "specimen collection and miscellaneous use", and... snacks. Perplexingly, the Vrxyl's pincer-like jaw is above their actual mouth, which is positioned just beneath the Vrxyl's eyes-- resting between two large antenna. When standing, the Vrxyl prefers their hind legs, and their armor easily allows for using all six limbs as a means of locomotion. Their back is rounded and beetle-like indeed, with the ability to open to dual vestigial wings. Slung across their back are two chitin Clubs with stone nodules, that are surprisingly lightweight but very durable. CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Superior agility. Bulwark defense. I'll outlast you!" Trained to use every limb, every angle, and every ounce of their weight, the Vrxyl fights in a flurry of blows, sweeps, spins, and leaps-- taking full advantage of momentum and their stature. Ziz is unafraid of taking hits, as long as they're glancing, and their pincer often comes into play as a third weapon. It has a point sharp enough to pierce leather and a biting force as hard as a war dog's bite. The Vrxyl is definitely not strong, so outmaneuvering and wearing opponents down is their best tactic. Battle against them is death by ten thousand sharp pokes and bludgeoning hits. Though their primary job is as a Yl-Riek warrior, their secondary duty as a researcher, has lead to decades of knowledge in the field of "Medical Chemical Miscellany". This mostly means mixing chemicals and components together, then seeing what happens when others ingest them-- but why would they tell the Meatskins this? Sure. The Vrxyl is a medic. Uhuh. Most of their actual medicine is for Gi-Syn-Yi use only, but the Vrxyl is well researched in Meatskin biology. If they were persuaded to care, they are capable of setting broken bones, stitching cuts, stopping bleeding, and even wound care-- they've had lots of practice on definitely consenting people. Naturally, they're adept at finding caves and hollows in walls or the ground, with their superior senses. Hearing, smelling, and temperature sense is quite a deal better for them, as is normal for Gi-Syn-Yi. So too do they have the poor eyesight of their people, which leaves things beyond four paces out of focus. Their vision in the dark is quite sharp, regardless of how little light there is-- the less the better. Tunneling is also quite natural to them, granting them the ability to dig with efficient ease, and their mind can trace the proper and easiest climbing route up walls with a glance. EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Find more and take more. From them. Of course. Who knows how it could be used!" The Vrxyl's journal is the most essential item on them-- they never go anywhere without it. Contained within are several years worth of research notes, though this isn't the first of their books. Other than this, everything else on the Vrxyl's person-- from chitin armor to weapons-- they regard with very little attachment. Various vials, jars, medicinal powders, and bandages clang around loudly in their pocket filled pants. A few odd Gi-Syn-Yi snacks and trinkets take up residence across their body-- tucked into compartments behind their armor. All this said, they happen to have rather sticky fingers, and take whatever they deem useful on a whim, often disposing of something else on the spot.

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Who are you?
Who are you?

GOAL
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Stars above sing for us, blessed are we by chorus..."

Through understanding and exploration, will there be an answer and revelation...
How many thousands of years have passed, since their people were stranded on this planet, unable to go home? Ziz believes that the answer lies in the bodies, the very essences and souls of the MEATSKINS themselves. That were their people capable of harnessing some kind of energy source, likely fueled by the components that surface beings draw power from, then this will be the first step toward the stars. Thus begin the experiments.

PERSONALITY
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Bug? Bug! Such a grave insult! So eloquent and original! Ack-ho, and my pride hath been gravely wounded! I perish!"

That sardonic wit and heavy sarcasm, common among the Gi-Syn-Yi, seems to be quite concentrated in Ziz. Even when they speak with seriousness, there lies a sarcastic tone to their voice, and a rather sassy shifting of their antenna. The Vrxyl is quick speaking, rather straightforward, and contrastingly patient. Though they explain things in a heavily condescending tone, it doesn't seem to bother them, and the Vrxyl seems to take delight in educating others.

Always scheming, thinking, or chuckling quite deviously, the Vrxyl has a reputation for experimenting on a whim. Often, said experiments are done unbeknownst to the "volunteers," and if they're scribbling in their journal, then it's very likely an experiment or observation is taking place, right at that moment. This of course means that the Vrxyl's loyalties are rather loose or even faked. They will lie and lie and lie if it gets the desired result. Innocence or even ignorance are weapons they use to get out of "the worst" situations, when dealing with MEATSKINS. To their own people, Ziz is unquestionably honest, and this is no surprise.

All for the glorious future of Hv-Yit-Ki does Ziz act-- as most Gi-Syn-Yi do. They will stop at nothing to achieve their goal, with fierce determination, vigorous enthusiasm, and a heaping helping of near delusional optimism. The Vrxyl believes they will make a breakthrough in their lifetime-- that it is only a matter of time-- and that the sun will not set on them without their name being praised.

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Why are you?
Why are you?

"Oh poor me, destined for greatness-- how burdensome."

Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl volunteered. Always first to ask permission to go to the surface, they were seemingly born fascinated with "the soft creatures." It was even said that Ziz's egg, "Feasted on the greatness of past scholars," for they learned to speak quite rapidly after hatching. Somewhat seen as a prodigal mind, it was quite a wonder why they volunteered to take the place of a Sunsetting warrior. Why would a mind so great ask to learn the ways of Yl-Riek Warfare?

In the blood and bone, the flesh and entrails, Ziz found answers to questions few asked. Knowing how the "soft creatures" worked, inside and out, could not be learned simply from cadavers or volunteers-- only in seeing them fight, move, live, and die could Ziz learn. Knowing how such creatures could possibly survive as long as they have, with as few resources and adaptations as they have, provided Ziz with the necessary spark for their "calling." As warriorship converged with their research path, Ziz continually volunteered for surface ventures-- sometimes even staying upon the surface for months alone, if only to learn and conduct research.

Their life has been one of fanatic hypothesis and theorems, tangled with invention and battle, that has already advanced several aspects of their field of focus. Ziz's very existence lead to a noticeable increase in disappearances within the Bone Sea, but this is for the greater good. There are no questions of morality, as far as Ziz is concerned, and to do so is silly-- MEATSKINS are just animals like the rest of the planet's creatures, after all, and their problems are their own making.

So, of course, it is not out of kindness that Ziz has answered the call to Exusia. Knowing what caused the Cataclysm would likely grant the next big breakthrough-- perhaps answering old questions for all the Gi-Syn-Yi. An opportunity to experience other creatures, outside the Bone Sea, also presents itself with this offer. Then, perhaps with the "wealth" promised, there may be the purchase of items which would otherwise be inaccessible to the Gi-Syn-Yi. Such an opportunity should not be passed up, regardless of how risky it is. Ziz considers their life worth nothing, if it does not advance the Gi-Syn-Yi closer to the stars, so it was that they alone were authorized to answer the Queen's call.

Bonus Story: Caged Animals

Secretive does not give credit to just how unknown Gi-Syn-Yi society is. No outsider alive knows just how deep the caverns go, how sprawling their chambers-- whose paths are closed off and retunneled differently periodically-- actually stretch. This is because no outsider makes it out alive. Two of nearly every "interesting surface animal" have at some point been forced into the caverns. Some were kept in pens and forced to "mate." Their offspring were studied alongside them, dissected, experimented on, and left to grow old and die under a lifetime of observation. For Zyiz-Ziz-Vrxyl, these controlled conditions simply would not satiate their need to know more. All the animals would become depressed or delusional-- sometimes fascinatingly kill themselves-- so they often raised the debate that the Control Chambers should be discontinued.

To prove their point, they lead several expeditionary forces to the surface. Rigorous experiments were conducted-- multiple groups kidnapped-- for there grew something of a fierce rivalry between both paths of thought. All was progressing smoothly until Ziz discovered slavery-- particularly that of a child. How could the MEATSKINS use children for harsh labor? They were too weak and fragile to be of use. Children were far too innocent, stupid, and ignorant-- for MEATSKINS matured quite slowly-- and this was a topic worth heavy investigation. Such investigation lead to the eventual capture of a slave child and, in every single instance, the children seemed grateful to be fed, clothed, and cared for-- Gi-Syn-Yi take pride in maintaining the health of their Control Chamber dwellers and dissection of children is seen as pointless, since they're undeveloped.

And so it was that the Control Chambers debate was ended. Ziz began making it a point to take slave children, as they were essentially volunteering-- grateful for rescue and close care-- and would make the perfect subjects for later experiments. Still, the Vrxyl did require more visceral knowledge-- how the adults of the surface thought, fed, and produced energy. What was their metabolism like? How did they maintain the buzzing of their hearts? Why did they smell so awful? Was it really the sun that gave them energy? What is a soul? Such questions could not be answered from controlled experiments alone...

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What else is there?
What else is there?

Ziz has a soft spot for softskin children and would go to great lengths to protect one. They've never harmed a child and will never do so.

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery (A melancholic dark-fantasy set in a post-post apocalyptic world)

Hello The Ghost Note and A Zombiedude One Hundered and One.
Here is my bug OC.
^{Edit: to include themesong (:}

Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl

_______________________________ NAME: Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl AGE: 40 RACE: Gi-Syn-Yi PRONOUNS: They/Them; "The Vrxyl" HOMETOWN: Hv-Yit-Ki HEIGHT: 4ft 8in to head 6ft to horn tip WEIGHT: 62lbs _______________________________ "Oh, ho ho, did you know that MEATSKINS are vulnerable to BROKEN BONES? Observe!"

_______________________________ the Brute Scholar the Brute Scholar "Breakthrough. So close. It smells like victory!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ What are you? What are you? APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Functional. Practical. Nothing else!" A carapace of grey iridescently reflects the sunlight. Chitin armor, light and roped together, tops an already near-impenetrable body. Large yellow eyes , which reflect the light with a tapetum lucidum, stare from the base of a large and deadly sharp pincer. Their eyes are covered by two dark lens caps, which cling to the surface of their hardened eyeballs closely. Their dull and well-worn leather pants act as extra storage, for their legs are quite thin, and Gi-Syn-Yi have no need for such "decencies". Within the many pockets are writing utensils, a journal, substances for medicine, bandages, a small looking-glass, vials and small jars for "specimen collection and miscellaneous use", and... snacks. Perplexingly, the Vrxyl's pincer-like jaw is above their actual mouth, which is positioned just beneath the Vrxyl's eyes-- resting between two large antenna. When standing, the Vrxyl prefers their hind legs, and their armor easily allows for using all six limbs as a means of locomotion. Their back is rounded and beetle-like indeed, with the ability to open to dual vestigial wings. Slung across their back are two chitin Clubs with stone nodules, that are surprisingly lightweight but very durable. CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Superior agility. Bulwark defense. I'll outlast you!" Trained to use every limb, every angle, and every ounce of their weight, the Vrxyl fights in a flurry of blows, sweeps, spins, and leaps-- taking full advantage of momentum and their stature. Ziz is unafraid of taking hits, as long as they're glancing, and their pincer often comes into play as a third weapon. It has a point sharp enough to pierce leather and a biting force as hard as a war dog's bite. The Vrxyl is definitely not strong, so outmaneuvering and wearing opponents down is their best tactic. Battle against them is death by ten thousand sharp pokes and bludgeoning hits. Though their primary job is as a Yl-Riek warrior, their secondary duty as a researcher, has lead to decades of knowledge in the field of "Medical Chemical Miscellany". This mostly means mixing chemicals and components together, then seeing what happens when others ingest them-- but why would they tell the Meatskins this? Sure. The Vrxyl is a medic. Uhuh. Most of their actual medicine is for Gi-Syn-Yi use only, but the Vrxyl is well researched in Meatskin biology. If they were persuaded to care, they are capable of setting broken bones, stitching cuts, stopping bleeding, and even wound care-- they've had lots of practice on definitely consenting people. Naturally, they're adept at finding caves and hollows in walls or the ground, with their superior senses. Hearing, smelling, and temperature sense is quite a deal better for them, as is normal for Gi-Syn-Yi. So too do they have the poor eyesight of their people, which leaves things beyond four paces out of focus. Their vision in the dark is quite sharp, regardless of how little light there is-- the less the better. Tunneling is also quite natural to them, granting them the ability to dig with efficient ease, and their mind can trace the proper and easiest climbing route up walls with a glance. EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Find more and take more. From them. Of course. Who knows how it could be used!" The Vrxyl's journal is the most essential item on them-- they never go anywhere without it. Contained within are several years worth of research notes, though this isn't the first of their books. Other than this, everything else on the Vrxyl's person-- from chitin armor to weapons-- they regard with very little attachment. Various vials, jars, medicinal powders, and bandages clang around loudly in their pocket filled pants. A few odd Gi-Syn-Yi snacks and trinkets take up residence across their body-- tucked into compartments behind their armor. All this said, they happen to have rather sticky fingers, and take whatever they deem useful on a whim, often disposing of something else on the spot.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

Who are you?
Who are you?

GOAL
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Stars above sing for us, blessed are we by chorus..."

Through understanding and exploration, will there be an answer and revelation...
How many thousands of years have passed, since their people were stranded on this planet, unable to go home? Ziz believes that the answer lies in the bodies, the very essences and souls of the MEATSKINS themselves. That were their people capable of harnessing some kind of energy source, likely fueled by the components that surface beings draw power from, then this will be the first step toward the stars. Thus begin the experiments.

PERSONALITY
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Bug? Bug! Such a grave insult! So eloquent and original! Ack-ho, and my pride hath been gravely wounded! I perish!"

That sardonic wit and heavy sarcasm, common among the Gi-Syn-Yi, seems to be quite concentrated in Ziz. Even when they speak with seriousness, there lies a sarcastic tone to their voice, and a rather sassy shifting of their antenna. The Vrxyl is quick speaking, rather straightforward, and contrastingly patient. Though they explain things in a heavily condescending tone, it doesn't seem to bother them, and the Vrxyl seems to take delight in educating others.

Always scheming, thinking, or chuckling quite deviously, the Vrxyl has a reputation for experimenting on a whim. Often, said experiments are done unbeknownst to the "volunteers," and if they're scribbling in their journal, then it's very likely an experiment or observation is taking place, right at that moment. This of course means that the Vrxyl's loyalties are rather loose or even faked. They will lie and lie and lie if it gets the desired result. Innocence or even ignorance are weapons they use to get out of "the worst" situations, when dealing with MEATSKINS. To their own people, Ziz is unquestionably honest, and this is no surprise.

All for the glorious future of Hv-Yit-Ki does Ziz act-- as most Gi-Syn-Yi do. They will stop at nothing to achieve their goal, with fierce determination, vigorous enthusiasm, and a heaping helping of near delusional optimism. The Vrxyl believes they will make a breakthrough in their lifetime-- that it is only a matter of time-- and that the sun will not set on them without their name being praised.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

Why are you?
Why are you?

"Oh poor me, destined for greatness-- how burdensome."

Ziyz-Ziz-Vrxyl volunteered. Always first to ask permission to go to the surface, they were seemingly born fascinated with "the soft creatures." It was even said that Ziz's egg, "Feasted on the greatness of past scholars," for they learned to speak quite rapidly after hatching. Somewhat seen as a prodigal mind, it was quite a wonder why they volunteered to take the place of a Sunsetting warrior. Why would a mind so great ask to learn the ways of Yl-Riek Warfare?

In the blood and bone, the flesh and entrails, Ziz found answers to questions few asked. Knowing how the "soft creatures" worked, inside and out, could not be learned simply from cadavers or volunteers-- only in seeing them fight, move, live, and die could Ziz learn. Knowing how such creatures could possibly survive as long as they have, with as few resources and adaptations as they have, provided Ziz with the necessary spark for their "calling." As warriorship converged with their research path, Ziz continually volunteered for surface ventures-- sometimes even staying upon the surface for months alone, if only to learn and conduct research.

Their life has been one of fanatic hypothesis and theorems, tangled with invention and battle, that has already advanced several aspects of their field of focus. Ziz's very existence lead to a noticeable increase in disappearances within the Bone Sea, but this is for the greater good. There are no questions of morality, as far as Ziz is concerned, and to do so is silly-- MEATSKINS are just animals like the rest of the planet's creatures, after all, and their problems are their own making.

So, of course, it is not out of kindness that Ziz has answered the call to Exusia. Knowing what caused the Cataclysm would likely grant the next big breakthrough-- perhaps answering old questions for all the Gi-Syn-Yi. An opportunity to experience other creatures, outside the Bone Sea, also presents itself with this offer. Then, perhaps with the "wealth" promised, there may be the purchase of items which would otherwise be inaccessible to the Gi-Syn-Yi. Such an opportunity should not be passed up, regardless of how risky it is. Ziz considers their life worth nothing, if it does not advance the Gi-Syn-Yi closer to the stars, so it was that they alone were authorized to answer the Queen's call.

Bonus Story: Caged Animals

Secretive does not give credit to just how unknown Gi-Syn-Yi society is. No outsider alive knows just how deep the caverns go, how sprawling their chambers-- whose paths are closed off and retunneled differently periodically-- actually stretch. This is because no outsider makes it out alive. Two of nearly every "interesting surface animal" have at some point been forced into the caverns. Some were kept in pens and forced to "mate." Their offspring were studied alongside them, dissected, experimented on, and left to grow old and die under a lifetime of observation. For Zyiz-Ziz-Vrxyl, these controlled conditions simply would not satiate their need to know more. All the animals would become depressed or delusional-- sometimes fascinatingly kill themselves-- so they often raised the debate that the Control Chambers should be discontinued.

To prove their point, they lead several expeditionary forces to the surface. Rigorous experiments were conducted-- multiple groups kidnapped-- for there grew something of a fierce rivalry between both paths of thought. All was progressing smoothly until Ziz discovered slavery-- particularly that of a child. How could the MEATSKINS use children for harsh labor? They were too weak and fragile to be of use. Children were far too innocent, stupid, and ignorant-- for MEATSKINS matured quite slowly-- and this was a topic worth heavy investigation. Such investigation lead to the eventual capture of a slave child and, in every single instance, the children seemed grateful to be fed, clothed, and cared for-- Gi-Syn-Yi take pride in maintaining the health of their Control Chamber dwellers and dissection of children is seen as pointless, since they're undeveloped.

And so it was that the Control Chambers debate was ended. Ziz began making it a point to take slave children, as they were essentially volunteering-- grateful for rescue and close care-- and would make the perfect subjects for later experiments. Still, the Vrxyl did require more visceral knowledge-- how the adults of the surface thought, fed, and produced energy. What was their metabolism like? How did they maintain the buzzing of their hearts? Why did they smell so awful? Was it really the sun that gave them energy? What is a soul? Such questions could not be answered from controlled experiments alone...

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What else is there?
What else is there?

Ziz has a soft spot for softskin children and would go to great lengths to protect one. They've never harmed a child and will never do so.

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery (A melancholic dark-fantasy set in a post-post apocalyptic world)

Here is bug race posted in thread for the people, hello I am Utrax.

Gi-Syn-Yi

Gi-Syn-Yi

_______________________________________________ LIFESPAN: 60yrs | HEIGHT: 4ft-5ft | WEIGHT: 30-80lbs | FREQUENCY: Extremely Rare | MAIN SETTLEMENT: Hv-Yit-Ki (Beneath The Bone Sea) |

DESCRIPTION ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ From a fathomless distance beyond the stars, there came a terror, chitinous and buzzing. A Legion poured from the skies to lay waste to a people, clad in animal skins and infantile as a race, which knew not what the creatures were or why they came. Such as it was, the people faced hardship and near extinction, but there came intervention. None recall the battle which lead to the Gi-Syn-Yi's retreat, the means of their crushing defeat, or the deadly foe they faced, but they fled. Deep into the caverns and veins of the world, hidden beneath the stone and sand, unable to return to the stars they so cherished, they fled. Centuries passed as their warriors and priests died, stories faded, oral traditions shifted, and stellar ideals warped. Not one of the Gi-Syn-Yi of today's population stands as tall or looks as imposing as their predecessors. Not one recalls the details of the passing of the centuries or the battle from which they fled. There remains only a lingering fear of the 'Dark Howling One' and an ancestral call home. Indeed they have devolved somewhat, adapted to survive in the cramped darkness of their underground city. With the passing of time, a species predispositioned for conquest and war has grown mellow and thoughtful. Generally, they are a heavily sarcastic and witty people, with a very slow to anger kind of disposition these days. They're smaller now-- both in stature and in population-- than their eight-foot tall and innumerable ancestors, and quite a deal weaker. Their bodies have adapted to the digging and crouching of their environment-- adapted through generational mutation-- for any dangers which present themselves in caves. Thick chitin covers their outer bodies, acting as an armor for a soft inner body. This chitin is incapable of being pierced or crushed, unless a MIGHTY force impacts it, and can endure sustained weight pressures as well as high falls with little to no damage. They are able to maintain life without air indefinitely, and survive without food or water for up to two months, before lapsing into a life-saving coma, which can last up to two more months before death. Gi-Syn-Yi forelimbs have grown to be thick and heavy, with dexterous fingers, tipped in claws that grow continuously through their lifespan, which are worn down only by their persistent digging. Most of them have four forelimbs and two hind legs. Utilizing all of their limbs, they can sprint quite quickly when pushed, but their gait is rather clumsy when walking on hind legs alone. Most could describe their appearances as similar to a number of insects-- beetles, millipedes, crickets, ants-- and their bodies are often a mix of limbs, colors, statures, and chitin patterns. Their varied bodies contribute to their dynamic adaptability and teamwork driven society. Though some often sport the horns or wings of their ancestors, the wings are usually fragile or immobile, as their capability to fly was lost in the genetics at some point. Their ability to heal is slow and amputation is common, as a means of reducing the pain and risk of infection with a wounded limb. Their bodies being punctured has a high mortality rate but this is a rare occurrence-- a special concoction, made of their own chitin, is used to seal their wounds; things to "clog" the puncture wound often work, if nothing else is available. Their ability to feel pain is lowered but when they feel it, the pain takes weeks to subside, if it ever does. They have to molt every three months, during which time they are vulnerable and soft for four days until hardening. Very strictly, they live only until sixty years have passed and no more-- always dying on the sunset of their sixtieth year. The chitinous outer bodies of the dead are re-purposed into weapons, medicines, or tools, with their soft inner body being placed in a mass grave, where they have piled their dead for centuries. This collective rotting is important, as the dead act as essential nutrients for the living. Physically, theres no distinction between genders among them. All Gi-Syn-Yi are capable of donating biological matter to construct an "egg". Collectively, their eggs are fertilized by the decaying corpse matter of their deceased, as a sort of mulch, that is leeched through the pliable egg surface. Conceptually, gender makes little sense to these extra planetary beings so, their understanding of it equates to "a societal role," and they often insist their genders are their job titles. As other creatures grapple with this, pronouns referring to Gi-Syn-Yi often dissolve into neutrality or calling them by honorifics, i.e. "The Jit." Intelligent, creative, and deeply loyal to their society, the Gi-Syn-Yi come to the surface reluctantly and rarely, as their eyesight is poor, and the light of the sun pains their eyes-- even torchlight is considered too bright. Scent, temperature perception, and hearing act as their primary senses. On the surface, they are veiled and usually wearing shaded lenses or darkening helmets. At the behest of their Hv-Jit-- the Leading Council-- whenever a matter of great importance occurs, they are sent to the surface to investigate. Usually, a representative or scout is sent alone but the occasional band of warriors or spies have emerged, much to the confusion of the "LOW INTELLIGENCE MEATSKINS" above. Some very few Gi-Syn-Yi can be found among Bone Clans or in New Kaimeria, taking very innocuous background roles as laborers or janitors, and secretly reporting their findings on the surface to their Council. Using their antennae, they can tune to different frequencies of sound in order to hear, and can hear great distances and through solid objects, if said objects are not too thick or sturdy. This makes their "spying" easier and a subvocal form of communication between them possible. Often, they bring with them odd inventions and curious trinkets, testing them on the surface or its people, before returning to Hv-Yit-Ki. As it stands, only the Gi-Syn-Yi themselves are capable of accessing their home beneath the bones, for they seal the entrance behind them, with nearly a mile's depth of sand and stone. For the Gi-Syn-Yi, the song of their ancestral home can quite literally be heard, calling them back to the cosmos. All of their conniving, inventing, and spying is for the sake of returning to that place beyond the stars. Bonus: NAMING CONVENTIONS Using the given name is considered "intimate" and should only be used by parents, close friends, or lovers. Meatskins usually only know them as two names-- the first and last-- unless they wish to have more formality, which means using only their job title. Job titles often change over the course of a Gi-Syn-Yi's life and they do what is best for their society without question. Elder title is earned at the age of 48 and ounglings mature into adults at age 3. Titles are quite literally pheromone scents that other Gi-Syn-Yi can detect within paces of eachother. Simultaneous title holding is possible-- limited to two-- in which case the job titles combine as a singular endname, with primary duty coming first. "Clutch Tender's Name"-"Given Name"-"Job" ex. Syif-Iekji-Yl -- Dual title Ex. Kify-Yiz-Vrxuk Job Titles Council Memeber -- Jit Warrior/Security -- Yl Scientist/Researchers -- Vrx Alchemist -- Xi Gatherer/Merchants-- Qrt Miner -- Uk Intelligence/Spies -- Zaj Advisor -- Kz Pathfinder/Scout -- Hyl Clutch Tender-- Tik Younglings -- Atz Elder -- Elj Maintenance/Laborers -- Fx

Recollections: The Coven

^{The ... Gay Grove?}

Without a second thought, Mariah took Isla's hand, and trusted they would end up somewhere safe. Just before they left, Mariah caught a glimpse of the burning Beach house, and winced. She hadn't meant to set the whole damn thing on fire but hopefully that would help the situation... or something. Fires blazed then the forest quivered before her-- scenery abruptly shifting with Isla's teleport. Almost reflexively, at this point, Mariah reached out to catch Isla just before she could hit the ground, and ended up down there with her.

Well.

They were certainly out of danger, sort of. Where they were exactly could be anywhere. Mariah held isla in one arm as she pulled her phone out, then opened up Google maps. Around them was a forest and they were in the clearing but, for some reason, her phone signal didn't want to pull her location. Great. As quiet and seemingly safe as it was here, a sense of anxiety caused her hands to shake, as she went to lower Isla to the ground. Slowly, she paced about, praying to the Verizon gods for a signal-- the lone bar of cell service answered her prayer. Google's positioning wonked about as she stared at the map, with a deep sigh leaving her, and it sounded awfully loud. Her brows scrunched and she sighed again-- the noise far softer than before but she felt eyes upon her.

Had those monsters decided to cut through these woods on their way to Annabelle? Thick sloshing and splashing picked up from within the forest somewhere-- Mariah looked over her shoulder at the unconscious Isla-- the world flipped several times.

"Neigh," neighed a very distressed horse, with an air of familiarity, as it used Mariah as an off-ramp from the forest. "Whinny," came the freaked out noise of the horse, as it continued on it's stampede into the wood-line, leaving Mariah as a heap in the mood. As she lay on her side, Google locked in on her position, and she stared at her blue icon on her phone screen. All things considered, that could have gone far worse, had she not decided to wear her glamorous football helmet. Sure, her side was screaming in pain, as was her leg, but Isla didn't even get hit and she didn't get a third concussion.

Quickly, she sent her location as a text message to Max, and figured he was already locked in on it anyway. He was kind of a legend for knowing where she was and when, without her telling him, and Mariah figured he was just really good at guessing games. As it stood, Mariah decided she was in a rather comfortable position for a nap, anyway. Eventually, Max did arrive, and they scooped Isla into the car, as he lectured Mariah on all the danger in Tampa and other such concerns, keeping the lecture going allllllll the waaaaay to Miami.

Recollections: The Coven

^{The Bitch House}

A lot of stuff can happen in two weeks. When the rest of the Coven fled back to Tampa, Mariah hadn't went with them, regardless of the danger. Sure. Maybe they'd murder her then steal her body, but then it wouldnt exactly be her problem, right? She'd be dead. On top of that, she didnt want Max to waste his gas money chasing her to Tampa, just so he could bring her back to Miami. That man had made it pretty clear that he didn't want her going nowhere until she saw a doctor.

Turns out, his fears were justified, and her doctor put her on bed rest for a week. As it turns out, bonking ones head on cement really didnt do the soft squishy noodles inside the skull any favors. For whatever reason, this was the same time Hector decided to go on an adventure, leaving her and Max alone to pay the damn rent.

So yeah, sure, Mariah was here at this Coven meeting but, this was the first time in a while that she could think clearly-- well enough to dig into her damn budgeting app. As she held her phone in one hand, crunching the numbers between her income and Max's, divided by food and fashion, she very dramaticaly fanned herself with the other, holding that huge fan of hers like a gentle southern damsel. Sweat was beading on her brow but Mariah refused to take off her bedazzled football helmet, for she was with the Coven, and they always managed to get her into a concussion causing situation.

Every slight tilt or movement of Mariah's head caused the stupid, plastic rhinestone covered, insult to sports equipment, to catch the light and surely send it BRIGHTLY beaming into someone's eyes, but she kept the football helmet on-- faceguard up and included. Her neon colored tie die crop top and black skirt contrasted wholly with the helmet, because who the hell wore something like this? She was seated on a deck chair, as discussion went on, and only barely registered the topic at hand.

After an odd linguistic display from Vashti, which kinda made her sound like she needed to shit, Mariah immediately cast her vote. "Whoever dyin' should have it unless they dyin' of the cancer-- unless the curse is the cancer. Whateva'," she contributed.

Delete Things? For Utrax?

@LegendBegins
I have a question!
How long must a thread be inactive/unused before it can be deleted?
I GM'd an RP that died a few months ago and would like it exploded.
Should I tell the players to grab their stuff then ask for deletion?

Delete Things? For Utrax?

Hello again!
Can you ice cream scoop my post out and put it in the lil trash?
Thank you!!

roleplayerguild.com/posts/5171411

Serpent's Snag-A Supernatural Western

I'm out.
Nice meeting y'all.