A Chapter by Kalrach

Roy explains what he understands about what's happened to him thus far. PS: For a much better reading visit this page on my deviant art


For Better reading read this here

“I’m sorry sir, all I have is five pieces of gold.”


         The Hominal panther whisked his face into a frown with his black ears pinned back. Roy could already anticipate a negative outcome to this bartering.


          “Sorry it is, mate.” The Feline replied using a gruff voice, his sharp row of teeth showed as he spoke, “No coin no curry, that the way it is.”


         “ I’m begging you, I’m hungry.” Roy leaned into the counter and looked up at the hominal chef with a pleading expression, despite his features being concealed by the hood of his cloak.


           A strong furry paw slammed down on the counter causing Roy to retreat.


          “We all are! That’s the point of setting up a shop! How am I suppose to feed myself without any business!” The Hominal growled, his black lengthy tail twitching behind him almost as if he were about to pounce.


         This was beginning to get too loud, the, Roy could feel the array of curious gazes coming his way as the people in the square all began to devote their attention to their disagreement, he inwardly sneered at the unwanted attention.


         Desperate to come to a conclusion, he dove into his jean’s pocket and produced five gold coins laying them out on the cook’s counter. The panther still stared at him with a visible snarl.


         “I said that’s not enough!”


         “Wait.” Roy commanded, an almost audible growl began do develop from within his chest.


         The Hominal’s feline eyes grew wide and he withdrew slightly sensing Roy’s seriousness. Feeling the urgent need to get out of the spotlight of unwanted attention he was in, Roy maneuver within his cloak and produced a 9mm pistol. His actions concealed by the cloak’s shadow, he silently drew out the magazine, took out three bullets and placed them on the table alongside of the gold coins.


         “Will these do?” Roy asked in a very direct tone.


         The panther man picked up one of the bullets and played it curiously in a paw, “What is this?”


         “Its valuable metal, do you want it or not?” Roy replied.


         The panther examined the strange object curiously, and then flashed Roy a cat like grin, “Alright lad, you got yourself a deal. Just bring in real money next time. Sit tight, I’ll bring yer curry.”


         “Make it to go, I have places to be.” He lied.


         The panther shrugged his furry, rounded shoulders “Suite yourself mate, but it’s a fine day outside.”


         With a swish of his long tail the Hominal snuck under the cloth serving as a door into his roofless shack were a black pillar of smoke arose heavily into the vermilion sky.


         Moments latter, he returned wearing a dirty cooking apron and sporting a tightly sown bag full of a green viscous liquid. The curry was everything but that, a swampy stew made form dirty seaweed, cooked moss, and some sort of leaf or any other fungi the chef could find. At one point, they were lucky enough to add mushrooms but on that day the price for the curry tripled forcing Roy to resolve to eat nothing but steamed roots and whatever he could find himself. The curry shop was the only source of purchasable food in the city; many of the city’s inhabitants can’t even afford it.


         Roy took the slimy bag in his hand, clumsily extending his arm too far as to reveal the infection ridding up through his veins, tainting almost his whole muscle tissue black. Luckily the Hominal didn’t seem to notice; nevertheless Roy hurried home after that pausing only momentarily to glance up at the sky.


         The panther man wasn’t wrong when he said it was a beautiful day. The red sky glowed with wondrous charm today; it was probably from the lack of dust that’s been blowing around recently. The sky was like a blank, sunless, cloudless canvas dyed velvet stretching through out the valley gracing the lowly, backwashed, city of Triem with a beautiful day.


         Triem was a pathetic excuse for a citadel, built by its founders upon the ruins of a once much greater civilization. Now Triem stood as some makeshift city forged from whatever one could salvage from the debris of the ruins. But despite how pathetic it might be its still one of the few remaining havens untouched by the Legion for now.


         As he ventured through the labyrinth of huts made from garbage, myriads of hungry and frail creatures of all races both humans and inhuman alike, and the overwhelming stench of waste, Roy’s mind continued to ponder on the infection ridding up half of his body, seeing it for himself at the curry shop reminded him of the danger he really was in.


         Roy finally made it into his hut with the curry in hand, not long after shooing away a group of filthy Faun children who were making a game of throwing dirt clods at the walls of his house. Roy ducked under the drapery, popularly used as a door in Triem, and dropped his bag of curry in a barrel where he kept most of his food in a stockpile.


         Today he ran out of money, he knew that it would happen one day. He’s known it for the innumerous amount of years he’s spent in this city. Removing his cloak Roy picked up a looking glace and examined him through it. The glass was of a bad quality and made his shape look horribly disfigured but even through its guise Roy could make out the black infectious veins creeping up out of his neck. The infection has begun to spread toward his face now; his eye is already turning black from it. The disease has officially taken over half of his being, it wont be long now till his whole body will succumb to it, and eventually die from it.


         Forcing himself to tear away from the image, Roy made his way towards the center of his shack were he removed a dirty rug revealing a trap door underneath. Lifting the latch, he descended into the secret catacombs his shack was build upon, and were he kept his studies. For a long moment he was shrouded in darkness, but with a wave of his hand, sconces of crystal mystically came to life with blue light illuminating a cavernous room made from glass and rock.


         The cave was of his own creation, with his powers over mater he formed it moving the earth and forming this crystalized room for his study. Off to the corner was a pile of human weaponry; firearms and ammunition ranging from pistols to rifles took their place on the pile. Adjacent to the weapons pile was an improvised desk of empty crates and barrels with his notes strewn across its surface. Roy made his way towards it and took his seat on a barrel he used as a chair.


         He savagely pushed the scraps of paper aside and opened a leather back journal. Pencil in hand and with enough light to see, he began to write:

                  I am writing in this journal, in the hopes that whoever reads this may have the perseverance that I lack.  In this cave is enough weapons and ammunition to arm a small platoon, you can find my notes in my desk, and there is a chest of my father’s books on quantum physics and intra-dimensional studies, the books may be the most valuable asset to you’re survival, or if you’re like me, you’re only return to Earth.




         Roy paused from writing as the pencil felt heavy in his hands. He abandoned it and brushed a hand through his thick, long hair letting out a trembling sigh. The pits of his stomach twisted up in displeasure after every stroke, as his deepest thoughts became words on the paper.




         So many years have passed; I draw closer and closer to my own death yet my face has no sign of age. I look as young and juvenile as the day I arrived to this cursed world, as if my experience and effort were no more than a mockery to my life span.


         I thought I knew what was happening; I thought I knew the plan. I was so sure that everything would be okay, that Hedreim will take care of everything. But now he’s dead, our god is dead, and I’ve never been so confounded in my life.


         What puzzled me the most of Hedreim’s execution was not that it was ushered by his own people, the Plythemians, but rather how willingly he accepted the fate his own creation subjected to him! How am I to make sense of this?


         I spent years trying to understand it. Why it happened, and why he did it. I read every book in my father’s library, and made notes.


         Upon the research I made by studying my father’s work, I realized a mystical parallelism between this world and our home world of Earth. Ever since the dawn of man the mythos of paranormal life or entities has plagued our history and culture. This world of Plythemus is the opposite, this whole world is inhabited only by the paranormal, or at least what a mortal human would consider paranormal.


         This discovery has led me to theorize that Plythemus is not a different world entirely but a paralleled one from Earth, almost as if it was a different flavor of it. All earthen mythology and folklore, the creatures man was said to have encountered throughout history, and to have inhibited unworldly properties, were really Plythemians who have crossed over to Earth.


         For my comrades and me this processed was reversed, we were dragged from our realm and woke up in the paranormal world of Plythemus.


         Now in my time of solitude, I had a chance to study the facts:


         Since our arrival, changes occurred in Plythemus, which sparked the dawn of a new era. In our search for a method to return ourselves to Earth, we indirectly sculpted the foundation for a revolution. My friends and I carried weapons, which brought an advantage to the battlefield as we warred against the Legion. We brought down their citadels, which never tasted a scratch since eternity and freed prisoners who never experienced freedom since creation.


         Committing these selfless acts and following simply what we were trained to do by the military regime we served on Earth, we brought changes to this word that was so grandiose, that people here began experiencing something they have once lost, hope.


         It became horrifyingly clear to me that our presence in Plythemus was not conjured by accident, but by design.


         The only explanation for this is that some kind of entity, something that is above both the realms of Plythemus and that of Earth, above both space and time, summoned us to Plythemus at just the right time whilst knowing our every reaction and our every procession through each situation, to do something grand for both this world and for ours.


         How this all ends and its purpose for happening is a mystery to me, and forever will be, as I don’t have very long to live.


         If I was a native Plythemian, perhaps I could understand it better but I believe that Hedreim, our guide or the Storyteller as he calls himself, was some kind of incarnation, a manifested form, of the same god like entity that brought us here. He knew events before they happened; he understood our feelings without us even expressing it, we witnessed him change night into day by the command of his voice alone, and whenever he fought in battle with us he anticipated every detail as if he were reading a script barely suffering a scratch.


         He had all the omnipotence and omniscience of a god but held it all within the manifestation of a carnal man who like all of us had to eat and sleep.


          When we first met Hedriem, he promised us a way back to earth. This is yet another one of his attributes, he knew how to persuade and influence us to want to follow him, we simply needed the common sense to distinguish one choice above the other.


         Hence began out travels together. Me and my comrades went on journeys no Plythemian has even endured, unraveling more and more of the mystery of this expiring world and its inhabitants as well as the forces that controlled it like the supernatural powers that is Reixu and the unequivocal evil that is Antigon who seeks to destroy all worlds. All of our journeys were composed under the single aim that was to find a means to return to earth.


         Hedreim never really mentioned or explained how exactly he was going to return us home, if anything he didn’t say he would, he simply offered us his help as a guide and after seeing his feats we had no choice but to accept. His only reply to our questioning was that if he gave us the truth instantly we would be too confused to comprehend it.


         Nothing seemed so true now. Hedreim is dead, and whatever truth he was hiding died with him. Plythemus has not too long to live and neither do I. I see no point in awaiting an answer to all the questions raveling in my head. I don’t want to believe that whatever plan Hedreim had for us and for our world failed, but for the moment that’s what all the facts are pointing to.


         I lack the perseverance, and the lifespan to see this through. I am writing this in the hope that the reader will have a better fate than the one that I am handed. The truths Hedreim shared to us still stands, however. I cannot relay you the information instantly, I have to go back to the beginning so that you can understand.


         This is how I came to be in Plythemus…



© 2012 Kalrach

Author's Note

There's some things I want to reconsider such as the starting point. I think that having the whole Prologue just focus on Roy's journal would be more effective but I wanted to introduce the universe

My Review

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Having the entire chapter in journal form would be more effective, and would loosen the grips on forcing the world at the reader...just my opinion of course. I liked what I read, and have really only one criticism, you need to check for spelling errors. Sorry I can't list them. I was trying to keep track, but they were simple mistakes, were instead of where, and stuff like that.

Looking forward to reading the rest.

Posted 11 Years Ago

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Added on July 24, 2012
Last Updated on July 27, 2012
Tags: Roy, Ben, Allen, Knights, Plythemus, guns, knives, explosives, alternate, worlds, dimensions, horror, fantasy, faun, fairy, fey, human, anthro, furry, prologue, introduction, dragons, action



Winter Park, FL

I have a passion for writing, which I believe was God given at this point. Although poetry isn't my thing, I do prose a bit more, I can do some of that too when I feel like it. However I think my grea.. more..