rhyshi’s field journal

i can actually see in the shadows. thats where I’ll be in case you need me. I know now he is the only soldier who can see me.

He reads my mind during battle.

 

beyond genesis i : nuPlanets

during the messenmyr modern wars of i. 4.1234 precious reverb alchemy relied heavily on ryh and wyynd ride.  the only known source was found on Vaero, one of the seven moons of Eve(eleven), the largest truPlanet of the outer Kidas realms. only dark jingo converts were able to have skin contact with what would be mined from the meseenmyr caverns. mining lasted for centuries until resources became scarce. Ryhst, once a commodity that brought the realms together, is now a symbol of eternal conflict.

sedna(nine) : sedna

welcome to Sedna(nine) comm:link DM semi-tone reverb carousel telereceptacle

: approaching high clearance zone. g-chip read

: clearance key accepted

 

Junkyard 3

I hear them, the changeling hounds, hungry for a streamlined honey bottom. I’m doused in oil from the bulky rafters I’ve repelled from, flipping through the argon clouds, legs spread eagle as I land on paws, all four. I know there is no out-running the gang so I taunt them with my perky tush still glistening in mineral slather. I clasp onto my bare ass, spreading my cheeks enough to wink at the oncoming hounds, who begin to salivate profusely with an unquenchable appetite for young hairless tail. I know what they want. “Come and get some”, I sass. As they approach, I notice the well-hung leader strutting in a frenzy of arousal, followed by a crew of bulky mongrols who can hardly wait to taste my cream.

The Junkyard Pt. 2

I climb the rungs of a ladder and strut across the rafters, all thighs in the moonlight. The crane operator is no match for my satin clutches, nor my instinctual hunger. My nails tearing through my gloves as I wrap my arms around him.  Allowing him to feel in control briefly, I absorb his throbs, before introducing him to the vacuum of my appetite.  I finish him off strongly. Unglued and in a disarray, he falls backwards to the ground below, impaled by a jagged spear protruding from a pile of debris. I am hungry still, sitting perked up on my haunches, drenched in his spill. Eagerly awaiting my next kill, I listen to the sounds of a gang of changeling hounds, rapidly approaching.

The Junkyard

I wandered into a junkyard and started crawling on all fours. I’m a leopard on a chain leash. The changeling hounds chase me into a corner. The service utility droid walking me shines under the fluorescent surveillance lights.  I bend the lights with my bladework, backwards on my heels. The young yard night guard on duty approaches, torn denims exposing his lumber. I scribe my name with my blade into his pistol, and choke his game with my chain.