---

It's an impressive beast, Hiemsurb. Run by pigs, tended by sheep, and herded by rabid dogs at war with shadowy wolves. Its ever snow-covered cobblestone streets veins of iron—blood of molten metal—and a heart as filthy as its bowels, all somehow functional and working in tandem, keeping the beast alive. At the center of it all, a mind too feeble to outweigh the urges of the monster it tries to control.

On one end, we have the Hiemsurb guard. One of the last tendrils of authority the so-called 'Chairman' has. Fools they are, they’ve still proven time and again they aim to keep justice prominent in the last city on this forsaken world, pounding it into our heads with every click of a hammer against a caster barrel. The splattered gore of my friends and enemies alike are the exclamation points, periods, and question marks that litter the city, all to be swept into the rivers of Hiemsurb's molten blood, feeding the embers that keeps the frost and dark from claiming the last bastion of civilization in a dead world.

On the other side of the coin is us: mercenaries, the mobs, the gangs, and the lowlife scum. The underbelly of the beast that no one cares to acknowledge but would be foolish to ignore. We deal in all the hands of battle, even though the war is many years over—the bombs making sure of that. We kill to satisfy other's wallets, and then we give them liquor to help them forget about it. We steal to help ourselves, and torture to serve our interests. These are the kinds of things my family, the Littleditch mercenaries, dip our hands into. Gods only know how we always pull them out without a single drop of regret afterward. Not that there is much regret to be felt nowadays. How can we feel regret knowing that every day could be our last? Extinction is one hell of a ghost to live with, after all.

“A library? What the hell are we doin' shootin' up a library?” My thoughts were interrupted by the green-skinned sushi roll beside me by the name of Costrain. For a Mer, she was very well adapted to the cold. If she was a native, I never bothered nor cared to ask.

“Boss says there's some Carcosan tech in there. Some kinda weapon,” Irk’ra, The cyan Kelpie on my left replied. At the word 'weapon', her face twisted into a sneer. The sadistic eagerness in her eyes disgusted me, and I made no effort to hide it. She just let out a fiendish giggle in response to my reaction and pulled out her fully-automatic monstrosity of a caster. She had named it ‘Dapper’; never asked why.

Sighing, I swept my coat aside, revealing my own caster. It was an unwieldy weapon when strapped to my side, but it was much more effective at destruction than my preferred weapon, a caster revolver named ‘Ironside’. An old heirloom from the war, and from before the bombs and the death and apocalypse now ahead of us.

Our ride—some beat-up auto-carriage from the war—bumpily made its way down the frozen streets. Looking out the window only afforded me shrouded memories. I was among the few individuals that still remembered a time before the ice and dark claimed everything. Ironic, considering my situation. All I had to do was look at my pale hand to remind myself why I was running with my new family instead of working for the guard. Not many would believe my condition, and I certainly didn’t bring it up when asked. Why would I? It didn’t matter anymore. The war had been won despite its atrocious cost. We had our world, for whatever it was worth now.

At last, the transport came to a sudden stop. There was a bang from the driver’s seat. Without a word, four passengers, including myself, jumped out into the cold streets. The carriage didn’t even wait for us to fully unload, as it took off just as quickly as it had arrived on the scene. I snorted at the sight. Fucking coward.

Instantly, our eyes fell on the library. At least, that’s what everyone called it. In truth, it was more of a temple or palace. It was the single largest building in all of Hiemsurb, and it would have been larger yet had it not been partially destroyed during the war. It covered what must have been at least a five-mile radius and stood almost ten stories tall. The only thing larger would have to be the furnaces below the streets.

Elton, the squid-faced humanoid to my right, shattered the quiet night, his booming voice funneling into the direction of the library. I was always taken aback whenever he used his magic to augment his tone, for it was not only loud but strangely relaxing as well.

“This is Elton Littleditch, of the Littleditch mercenaries. We are giving you this one chance to come out and surrender peacefully. Bring out all Carcosan technology with you, and we promise not to harm you.”

We all stood in silence, except for Irk’ra, who giggled and fidgeted more and more with each passing second. After only a minute, she let out a roar. “Screw this!” she shouted as she began shooting at the street with her caster, the dozens of tiny blast creating potholes in the frozen cobblestone and showering me in rock dust and snow.

“Irk’ra!” I shouted, grabbing hold of her caster’s barrel and lowering the weapon. “Calm the hell down!” She immediately stopped, her laughter reducing itself to sparse hiccups. She didn't apologize, and I didn't expect her to nor wanted her to. She just gave me a sour look.

Turning once more to the library, I caught a shining point from inside the darkened building. I stepped forward and puffed out my chest, my expression betraying the attempt at brevity. I scrunched up into a look of apology and regret. “Isaac...” my voice eked out, catching the other two by surprise with its frailness, “you know why I got to do this. Step aside. Please...”

A tailed and horned biped being, one whose skin was scale-covered by a natural mosaic of bronze and jade, stepped through the main door of the building and stood, looking at me with the same pathetic mask I wore. He made like he was going to say something, but instead lowered his head in defeat, revealing the red glow in one of his palms.

I could feel the wave of disappointment fall over Irk’ra as she lowered her caster. “That's it?” she shouted, huffing at the ground in front of her. “That was so… anticlimactic...”

Isaac's eyes caught mine again, wet with tears. Instantly, I knew what he had in mind. I took a step back, throwing my armor weave jacket over my face, just barely getting the chance to duck as I heard the soft thud on the ground in front of me.

The night air exploded turning the snow into gold as the little red gem released its fury. I was thrown hard into the building behind us, crashing through a dusty window and landing on a desk. Coughing, I attempted to stand again but found my left arm wasn't responding. I whipped back my coat to find a skewer of wood had pierced it right at the joint. A stream of swears left my lips before I remembered I had more important things to do than yell at a piece of wood.

I didn't know enough about medicine to even attempt withdrawing the stake, so left it alone as I used a nearby desk to get back up on my feet. I stood there catching my breath for two or three minutes before my eyes adjust to the darkness. With a start, I noticed the dark blue smear across one of the other windows. I couldn’t tell who it was, but I knew very well that they were gone. I raised my good arm to my hat and felt a sudden jolt of pain surging through the right side of my body. I gently poked my chest and went dizzy as pain engulfed every nerve.

I lurched to the side as the pain forced itself up and out of my throat. Wiping my mouth of blood, I hobbled back to the window. I didn’t have to climb anything, as the blast had left a very large gap in the old building. I looked to the side, towards the smear, and set eyes on what was left of the cephalopod faced Elton. He was little more than a mess of inside out entrails and mangled gore. A part of me felt bad for the squid. He was family, after all. I started looking around for Irk’ra and Contrain. Half a block down, I spotted the cyan heap that was Irk’ra, slowly crawling towards Dapper on the sidewalk. Not far from her was an orange mess that was no doubt Contrain. She was so mangled that it was almost impossible to tell said mess had once been a living, breathing being. I chuckled at first. That was followed by a sad, painful and somewhat angry noise that was birthed from the depths of my chest. Of the four of us, it had to be her and only her who survived.

I flopped back onto the street below, knocking the wind from me as I landed on my damaged ribs. The pain caused me to vomit. I relinquished what little food was left in me from the jail of my gullet, right into the gutters before scraping myself to my feet again, struggling to catch my breath.

“Dammit. Fuckin’ balefire gems and their fuckin’—” I coughed, spraying some blood on the sidewalk in front of me. “—Magic blasts…” I fell into my own blood in a heap, my vision starting to become blurred. I wondered for a moment if Irk’ra would come to my aid. I wheezed a laugh at the thought, telling myself just how ridiculous that idea was. The only things that demonic little bitch saved from death were her victims, so she could push them right back to the brink of it again.

Come morning, I’d just be another corpse to feed to this damned city’s lifeblood; dumped in its maw of molten iron like countless others before me. The worst part? I wasn't even sad about it. I had threatened an old friend tonight from before the war. I was glad—proud even—that he wiped out two of the worst beings in the city. I caught a glimpse of Elton's arm hanging from the windowsill and couldn’t help but grin. “One of the worst…” I repeated weakly before chuckling. “Good singer, though…”

I let myself succumb to the black, even as a bright flash tried to rouse me.

---

The Chairman of Hiemsurb’s office was oddly quiet. For the first time in many weeks, Barr found himself all alone in the sprawling office. This put him in a good humor. Flicking a windproof lighter on, he set fire to a particularly interesting book by the name of “Tales of Espionage Through the Outer Colonies”. It was the last of three printed copies, and it's brothers sat in a pile of ash at the bottom of a large fireplace.

Barr grinned, the pearly white of his teeth a sharp contrast to the tar black of his slimy skin. “Too much information to let fall into the wrong tendrils,” he laughed to himself. “Better to keep it all barred up in here…” He tapped one of his dozen tentacles to his head, spinning in the air and chucking the last of the triplets into the roaring flames. His whole being fluttered back and forth as he spun again and again, clearly proud of himself.

“Two years… TWO YEARS!” he said as he touched down with two tendrils, slamming the rest of his black limbs on a nearby table, suddenly overcome with a rage so great the floor almost seemed to shudder with him. “TWO FUCKING YEARS TO FIND THESE DAMN THINGS!” he knocked over his desk, spilling papers and inkpots all over his office. He stood there huffing, sending a blast of concentrated arcana that pushed his chair over before sagging to the ground in a blubbering heap. “I… I… c-cant… wh-wh-wh-why… why did I…” he sobbed, crying into the floorboards and slamming his forehead against the polished wood repeatedly screaming “WHY!?” at each impact. Suddenly, he sprang up to a hover, the grin from before re-plastered on his face. “Oh yeah! So I'd be the only one who knew!” he giggled cheerily, glowing green blood snaking its way down the front of his face.

Seemingly ignoring it, he levitated his chair and desk from the floor and placed them back into their proper places, six of his front tentacles crossed as he started humming a little tune. Around the third rendition of it, a large gray ape-like biped rushed in through his door taking only the slightest pause at the state of the room. He slammed a handful of pictures onto Barr's desk, his face contorted into a grimace. The topmost image was a picture of a pale homo sapien in an armored jacket, half covered in a puddle of what Barr assumed to be his own sick mixed with a darker than average crimson.

“And what do we have heeere?~” Barr inquired with a sing-song voice, tipping over the pile so the pictures all fell neatly beside each other. One was a particularly gruesome picture of an arm dangling from a window, what was left of a cephalopod smeared across it and sidewalk nearby.

“Littleditches, sir.” the gray ape replied, “They aimed to take out the Chronicler.”

“That drake?” Barr said in a surprised tone. “Why? I thought there were no drakophobes in the city…” he slurred out, his expression becoming very serious.

“No clue, sir. The Chronicler had already gone before we got there.”

“Isaac? Good, that boy's too good to get dead like this.” Barr's eyes went wide for a moment, and he spurted, “Isaac Kaddath, 5'5", bronze and jade scaled with a silver hairline and light gray horns. Eye color emerald green. Works as the Chronicler in the old palace of knowledge.” His eyes returned to their normal width, and he became deadly focused again.

The gray ape in front of him seemed unfazed by this behavior and continued. “The attackers we've identified are Irk’ra, Elton, Maltese, and Constrain. Of the corpses found at the scene of the crime, Elton and Constrain were identified.”

Barr tapped his chin with one of his black tendrils. “Elton I know. Constrain is vaguely familiar. But this Irk’ra and Maltese?” he asked as his eyes drifted back to the homo sapien in the picture. “I'm afraid I don’t know those two…” Barr's face scrunched in fury and the gray ape before him took a step back. He suddenly found himself on the receiving end of another of Barr's tantrums. He managed to dodge the desk, but the vase was an unexpected move.

Recovering on the ground, the ape looked up just in time to see Barr bring six of his tendrils down on his chest, knocking the guard’s badge from his duster and pushing him against the floor. Barred was grating his teeth, glowing blood eking out from where his tongue got caught between the glittering pearls in his mouth. “You! Find out who they are! Got that?!” Barred accented each sentence fragment by pushing harder and harder into the ape’s chest.

Then, all of a sudden, he collapsed onto the ape’s chest, bawling into his white undershirt. “I… I just… need to know! P-p-please… please! I need this!!” he pleaded, his heaves and sobs forcing the guard to take pity on the psychopath. He patted Barr’s shoulder and nodded in reply.

Barr laughed in response, then began rolling around on the ground in unbridled giddiness. “Okily dokily then, we have a deal!” He practically squealed. He hopped back into a hover again and pushed the guard out the office. “And you better find me something good, Oakwood!” Barred laughed as the gray ape whirled around to face the thing. “Or I'll rip out one of your ribs and stab you in the fucking eye with it!~” he giggled and slammed the door, shaking the windows so much they threatened to shatter.

Oakwood just grunted and turned to start walking down the hall. “Crazy fucking Carcosan, as if this dying city needs any more psychos...” He said to himself. With a heavy sigh, he squared off his shoulders and patted some dust out of his duster.

---

The first thing to come back to me was my sense of smell. A scent wafted over me, inviting me back to the living with its familiarity. It tugged at me with its undertone of sinus-clearing alcohol.

“Uh… kompot… ruh…” I felt myself moan. My eyes fluttered open and immediately snapped shut. I wasn't prepared for what my eyes had shown me. Not so much the bright lights whose hum had begun to revive in my ears, but the sight of the cyan Kelpie sitting above me, glaring at me with her piercing rose colored eyes.

“Whaddya… what’re ya…” I couldn't voice the question. Instead, I dragged my hand over my eyes, blocking out what little light was piercing my eyelids.

“You know exactly why I'm here, ya sad excuse for a merc!” she barked in an all too chipper voice, “I'm the one who got ya outta the street. Some brat managed to get our pictures, but I don't think that’ll be enough to identify us.”

I wondered how a kid could have gotten away from the murder-on-legs that was Irk’ra, but I quickly remembered how busted up she was before I blacked out. “Hhhhow did ya..?” I rasped. I suddenly realized I was very thirsty, and instinctively licked my lips.

“You know I'm more resilient than that. I use grenades to brush my teeth!” I wondered how much truth was actually behind that. I was answered with a funnel shoved into my mouth, crashing into my gums. “Here, so you’ll shut up for a bit.” My mouth was filled with a mixture of kompot, rum, and vodka, all of which I drank greedily. I removed the hand from my face and wiped some sweat away from my eyes. I was relishing the burn in my throat more than I should have.

I sat up and found it was hard to breathe. I looked at the bandages around my chest, wrapped way too tight. I didn't voice my discomfort, Gods only knew what Irk’ra would do to ‘fix’ it. Probably starve me or make me puke continually. I reeled on the thought; this was way too kind of her, even with all the rough treatment. She was watching me and waiting for my recovery.

The words fell from my lips before I could dam them up. “What the hell!?” I barked, not meaning to sound angry, but the shock was too much. Irk'ra responded how I thought she would: by huffing, then sucker punching me in the chest with her right hoof.

I cried out in pain as the bandages were darkened with fresh blood. “You’ve been out for three whole days now! Someone had to watch yer ass!” she roared back at me. I fell to the floor, and she walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I could hear pounding and glass shattering as she made her way down the hall. I raged at myself. Not only at the bitch for exerting control over me like I was some baby, but also at myself for allowing my suspicions to close her off to me again.

That’s when her words process in my mind: three days. It had been three days since the confrontation with Isaac. I surmised that’s why I had been able to stand, despite the explosion seeming mere minutes ago. I poked my ribs again, and though there was plenty of pain, it wasn’t nearly as bad as before, even with the blow from Irk'ra. I struggled back to my feet and took a few deep breaths before finally drinking in the room around me.

I began to wonder where I was. This wasn't the Littleditch house, it was too… dusty. But at the same time, it felt occupied. There were homey smells wafting in from around the house, a honey-sweet scent mixed with sawdust. The room I was in was obviously a bedroom, though whose it was I was uncertain. The walls were completely blank, no pictures sat on the bedside table, no decoration of any kind betrayed the owner of it all.

I opened the door and was greeted with lavish surroundings, and a portrait hung in a black frame. The portrait showed a happy family of four Kelpies, a light blue teenage mare sat in the middle, looking like she was the center of the universe. She was flanked by two others, a male of light green coat and golden mane, and a rosy filly of lavender mane tied into two buns. Sitting next to green coated mare was a very young filly, grinning up at what must have been her elder sister. She was a cyan color and looked perfectly normal, almost like she was completely different from the mare I knew today.

I stared at the picture of Irk'ra's family for a good long minute before I heard a shuffling of carpet down the hall. I darted back into the room I was in before, fearing my caretaker's return. I didn't want another bloodstain.

The shuffling approached my door but stopped a few doors down. I heard a light clicking and some mumbling. Curiosity got the better of me, so I pressed my ear up against the door, trying to hear the words being spoken. I recognized it as Irk'ra's voice, albeit missing a certain… maniacal charm. She seemed to be speaking calmly, and that unsettled me more than her usual demeanor.

My eavesdropping was cut short as a loud pounding on the door threatened to blow my eardrums. I fell back, landing on my ass. Irk'ra slammed open the door and made her way inside. She grabbed a suitcase out from under the bed I had just occupied, grumbling something under her breath. “Mistake to come… crazy bastard...” she had made it halfway down the hall when she yelled at me to follow.

In any other situation, I would have had a few choice words to throw at the sushi roll, but I decided it was best to simply follow.


With Elton dead, the leadership of the Littleditches was handed over to Irk’ra. It didn’t take long for jobs to start coming back our way, and for the Don to send me out into the field again. He figured the three days I’d spent unconscious were more than enough time to get battle-ready. I silently cursed the fat fuck as I made my way down Vorka street. Thankfully, he didn’t feel it was necessary to send me on another hit so soon. Or ever again, judging by the way he’d said it. I’d failed, gotten two people killed, and didn’t obtain the Carcosan tech.

In retrospect, it was easy to see why the Don wanted the little thing. Powerful explosive, but with limited structural damage due to the magical nature of the blast. The thing could easily take out a room of people he didn’t like and could have been easily disguised as a pendant or a ring. I stole a few glances at the people treading the sidewalk. I particularly gaudily decorated drake in gaudy jewels caught my eyes. Each gem could have easily disguised a killer explosive. The thought struck me but didn’t particularly disturb me. How many people nowadays were walking around with Carcosan jewelry, and how many of those gems could have been secretly enchanted to go off at someone else’s command?

My thoughts vanished as I was pushed away from the sidewalk by a number of kids chasing and yelling at one another. I stood again and brushed myself off, biting back some colorful language. The kids continued to run, charging through pedestrians until they merged with a crowd down the block. The mob surrounded a caravan, not unlike the ones our old armies used before the war. I hurried over, remembering the Don’s words: “Some new military campaign. I need ya to get a good look at what we’ll be up against.”

I swore out loud, imagining the losing battle I was about to be a part of if the military’s remnants were up to interfering with petty crime. Pushing my way through the crowds, I met my fears face to face. Clad in a shining exoskeleton-type armor I had not seen since the later days of the war, The ape wearing the armor was looking stoic, barely moving as the crowds around him stood there gawking at him.

“—and finally, wearing state of the art armors made of a high-density ceramic developed before the schism—” A scrawny Kelpie next to him announced to the crowd, “The Regulators are here to keep the streets of Hiemsurb safe, to help foster peace, and to restore the City to its former glory!”

The crowd erupted into cheers. I got shoved to the ground again as the mob closed in on the Regulator. I shuffled out of the crowd, trying to keep myself from being trampled when I felt picked up under the shoulders. I was put back up on my feet and spun around to see who had helped me up. He was large. Very large. The star on his jacket immediately told me who he was.

“Grand Guard Oakwood,” I said politely, tipping my hat, and making like I was going to pass him. A gray muscular forearm blocked my path.

“Not so fast,” Oakwood’s voice boomed. His eyes were still on the crowd, which was being dispersed by the Regulators who had been sitting in the truck up to this point. He lowered his arm, then finally turned to face me. “A few nights ago, the library was attacked. Carcosan weapon went off. Killed two and injured two more.” His eyes drifted to my chest. “Investigators say the Chronicler was a target, and he used said Carcosan weapon was used as a grenade in self-defense. Now we’ve been looking high and low for the damn people responsible, and imagine my surprise when one of them runs right into me.” The gray ape reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of cuffs. “You and I are going to take a little walk, Mr. Maltese.”

I turned on the spot and had made it two steps before twin gunshots deafened the crowds. The mob scattered, revealing a pair of gunmen on either side of the regulators. Both were of Carcosan descent, though one looked as if he had some Kelpie mixed in him if the fact that his tendrils looked more like hooves was anything to go by. The announcer from earlier was now in a puddle of green blood and viscera.

“Don Browning says—!” The first assassin began to speak but was interrupted with a heavy caliber slug to the head. The sound of splattering was louder than any noise the Regulators seemed to make as they tore into the other shooter. Half of his body flew off, landing close to me and splattering me with glowing green blood. The Carcosan, still somehow alive, scrambled for it, but another shot next to me put an end to his futile effort. Oakwood blew the arcane smoke from his caster’s barrel and stashed it back into his duster.

A pair of regulators walked up and picked the corpses, dragging them back to the convoy as another pair went to check on the announcer. What little that was left of the crowd from before began whooping and hollering, both for the Regulators and their impressive firepower, and for Oakwood and his quick-pull trigger.

A Regulator—a homo sapien like myself—stepped from the convoy, his armor outlined in a dull gray, barely distinguishable from the white. A crest sat on his chest plate, a silvery orb of Sol and Celene. He alone approached pulled the body of the announcer onto his shoulders and turned to Oakwood. A short nod of thanks was given, and he turned back to the truck.

“So, now that you’ve seen the hard way...” Oakwood turned towards me and waved at the still fresh blood smeared all over me, “Would you like to maybe try the easy way?”

I thought of running. I thought of whipping out Ironside and blowing Oakwood straight to hell. I even contemplated yelling for help, playing the victim and getting some other poor fool on my side.

Instead, I just dropped my head and said nothing.

“Good,” Oakwood said, clicking the cuffs on my wrist, “I’ve got someone who’d love to meet you.”