Diana Eszes's Story

The sound of a motorbike ripped through the forest before puttering to an idle.

Gromp Fungona dismounted the vehicle in the flattened spot of grass where, presumable, a large animal had passed through not long ago. He grunted and made his way towards a half eaten berry bush. They were no good to ingest, but they made a great dye. They made an even better poison.

In the midst of the wilds an interloper had invaded it, unseen, unheard, through something more esoteric means. Small enough to hide and in the form of something relatively small and unassuming. This wasn't her native world, this wasn't her native form, but the fear was all too familiar. This small invader knew too well the fear of teeth and claws, in a unforgiving wilds of her own world. One of her first acts was to hide. Having taken up residence in the cabinet of the kitchen of the old facility, she made her presence as minimal as possible.

She heard movement everywhere, sounds of animal calls, of cracks and crunches of feet both heavy and small. She curled up in there, holding her hands over her ears and tightly closing her eyes.

"Little Spark, are you..? Ah. I'm sorry, Little Spark, the Samsara it is... imprecise, whatever was done here left a kink in the veil," a somber male voice speaks in the back of her mind. Her voice cracks lightly as she places her hands on her face, uttering a name or title, Saraph. "Shh now, collect yourself, you must move forward. There is a flaw somewhere in the veil. I am sorry I cannot be by your side, but I made you strong. Remember, it takes only a little spark to cause a fire Basalah."

Her eyes flare for a moment, and, getting down on all fours, she cracked the cabinet door to peek out, her eyes unusually adept at what little light exists here. She was used to an even darker place, in fact. She forces herself out, quietly scurrying through the building, her red scarf dragging behind her. She paused along the way, another sound of footfalls even smaller than her own. Her ears twitch and she caught sight of a bushy tail. Its movements were... precise, with deeper intention. Curious. She quietly followed, making sounds even light to her acute ears. Eventually leaving the facility altogether, the flood of light nearly causing her to double back. She squinted tight and let her other senses guide her.

She heard another sound, heavier, her heart skipped a beat as she hid in some brush and waited for the massive... shelled... thing to part. As she hid, she observed the behaviors of the smaller creature, taking note that it seemed sapient as it protested at the massive monstrosity which seemed—far less so. As the interaction concluded, and the two parted ways, she thought to leave but before she could get too far to observe, another sound caught her attention. Ducked back in, the sound that approached sounded unnatural. There was a strange little... man? Riding atop a wheeled construct. Machines were not a foreign concept, but few exist where she's from. The other thing she knows is that thing he carries is likely worse news than teeth and claws. Regardless, he's relatively the most familiar creature she's seen since coming here, leaving reasoning a potential option if an encounter was unavoidable... then again, it never worked in her homeland.

Gromp Fungona continued to pick the berries, grumbling to himself about damned turtles and stupid space ships. He swore it was just yesterday their mountain village was considered a village. It was the same size, same place, but had grown all the much larger what with the influx of new people.

People, Gromp thought with a roll of his eyes and a tug at a particularly unreasonable collect of berries. People were everywhere. Big, stinkin', lumbering, loud, why wouldn't these damned berries give?!

The gnome let go of the berries and huffed. He folded his arms, evaluated them for a beat, and then launched his attack. Grasping the small branch in both his hands, Gromp shook the branch to and fro. He levered it this way, he yanked it that way, all the while grunting and cursing up a storm.

Maybe it was the universe's way of playing a joke. As soon as Gromp felt the sweat break in his beard, the branch gave way-sending the bearded gnome and all the berries tumbling backward. Gromp let out a frustrated yelp as he fell. There he lay. A gnome, huffing and puffing in the matted grass, laying flat on his back, some berries still attached to the branch clenched in his fist.

Gromp stared up at the foliage above. Fine. He could lay here for a moment. Take a breather. What was he in a rush for?

Seeing the small man struggle with a berry bush kinda... took some wind out of her earlier caution. She winced a bit as he fell back and just laid there. This... would be the first time she's seen foliage win a battle. She crawled out from the bushes and stepped forward, only to feel a snag and fall onto her face. Ouch. She rubs her face whimpering something foreign under her breath. Looking back she saw what it was... her scarf had gotten snagged on a branch. What more, she started to notice her altered shape, along with a tail... a tail!? She rubbed her face again, an existential crisis would have to wait.

She tugged herself free and made her way by the wheeled construct, feeling the wheels and chassis. Perhaps while he is incapacitated she could take the wheeled—no, not only does she not know how it works, she would just more likely incite an unwanted conflict. She made her way over to the small man instead and crouched down beside him.

"Ayph any?" she utters meekly in a foreign tongue with her voice, at the least, seems familiar coming from her own throat. "Ham ath hy..? Hhhhh... hello?"

The last word that escaped her throat came unexpectedly. What was that utterance?

Out of the corner of his ear, there was a slight kerskuffle in the bush. Gromp let out a slight grunt. Screw the bushes. Surely there was an easier way to get the damned berries. Harvesting them by hand was a personal touch, a luxury.

Expensive.

He rolled the idea of manufactured dyes applied to his hand crafted leathers in his head, noting the pros and the cons and constructing various realities in all directions. He could turn the dye pit into a hot tub, he mused upon, and smiled. He was busy calculating all of the time he could reallocate to anything at all, when someone said "Hello?" far too close for comfort.

Gromp snapped opened his eyes to something peering down onto him. A lurch later and a milisecond backward, the gnome was back to his full height and on his feet. He pawed at his red hat with one hand, quick-drawing a FUNGONA G9 with the other. This one was custom, his own piece. Made of imported silver from some far, far away planet.

"THE FNUCK!?" Flabbergasted, he aimed his pistol but didn't ready it for fire. He took in the raccoon...thing...before him, and figured it didn't seem the most dangerous. It was weird as hell, but it wore a scarf. A scarf meant it either had sentiment, or it understood how to reason around the cold. The thing had a brain.

"Inappropriate!" Gromp scoffed and shifted from foot to foot. He harrumphed. His pistol hand relaxed. He glanced back to his bike, noting that it was still there.

She flinched as he yelled something and pointed his weapon on her, and she found herself looking down its barrel. She had no idea what it did, just that she was on the bad end of it. It took a moment for her body to connect to her brain and she fell back, wide-eyed. Pathetic, Expecting mercy from a stranger when her own didn't have any.

But then nothing.

Despite clear frustration the little man relents, chastising her lack of tact. After gathering herself she stood back up. She observed him, his attention shifting from her to his construct. As tensions dropped she began to gather the berries scattered about.

"U-um?" she utters, holding them out in cupped hands.

Ah, shit, Gromp holstered his gun with a sideways mouth and a hard look at the raccoon-looking creature before him. They were about the same size, which wasn't too unusual. Gromp knew his kind was considered small to apparently most every other sapient thing out there.

"Thank," the gnome took a waddle forward and held open a satchel attached to his hip, "Throw 'em in, eh?"

Gromp tried to smile at the berry-helper. It didn't come across as much more than a grimace. It was the thought that counted, right?

She watched intentively as he holstered his weapon, a relief certainly, but also taking note of how he handled it. She had no idea what it did, but now she had a good idea how it would be used... not that she looked forward to it.

He seemed to trust her at this point, enough to waddle up to her. He certainly seemed lacking in mobility, maybe why he needed that wheeled construct? He reminded her of an elder, and as they say about elders, she wasn't about to disrespect. She did wonder why he would want these suspect berries, but reached out and carefully poured them into the satchel.

"W-welcome," she stuttered, gripping at her scarf. She wasn't sure if showing too much intellect was safe.