[murakumo]

Since I didn't see many items posted down here I thought I would throw this old fiction story I started a few months ago. If people enjoy it I may post up some of my other works.

The figure walked off of the gangplank on unsteady knees, as his legs slowly began to adjust to the stationary ground. Three months at sea had taught his limbs to sway to the motion of the waves, and now as his boots clicked nervously
against the hard wood of the pier his arms flailed slightly out before him. He withdrew form his left pocket a small hand stitched and embroidered handkerchief and dabbed at the green chitin like skin covering his forehead. Three pronged many segmented fingers folded the now damp cloth up into a small triangle before replacing it deep into the same pocket from which it had escaped.

The once proud Touchikan Baron had fled his homeland, leaving behind him thousands of copper and silver pieces in land and products form his flourishing business. He had only barely escaped the Empire of the Coda’s rampaging army, and now as he stood on the small bustling pier of the port town of Jericho, his hopes and dreams seemed to be as sunk as the rocks coating the bottom of the small cove itself. He sighed as he let four pairs of deft arms wrap against a guard rail along the pier’s western edge, two eyes starring past his thin spectacles, out to where his homeland once lay.

~*~

The first few weeks of spring dawned vibrant and bright as the Touchikan race held its annual festival. Hedonistic parties of every description rampaged across the green countryside as the insect-like men and women celebrated another winter’s death. The most lavish party as usual was held in the Barony of Von Plotzkrieg, a local baron and highly successful businessman. He had spent the last fifteen years of his life, since being orphaned at the age of ten, building up a small empire, and today the entire plantation and the small town that serviced it erupted in festive colors and lights, as the streets ran red with mulled spiced wine.

Plotzkrieg had just downed a large glass of mulled apple cider when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the advancing columns of a war party. He recognized from his trading the trappings and heraldry of the Empire, and the cider turned to ash in his throat as he forced it down. His first impulse was to run through the town and warn everyone… perhaps they could get some kind of defense in order before the army arrived?

But then Plotz’s survival instinct kicked in. Like every true businessman Plotz had learned to allow his instincts to rule his mind more then once, and as he watched the empires ranks roll onto the fields like advancing locusts, (for a brief moment Plotz was reminded of his second cousin a very handsome featured grasshopper who owned half of the neighboring island chain) He realized his best chance for financial… and literal survival was to escape as quietly as possible.

Two hours later, Plotzkrieg was traveling fast and hard over the rough hewn earth, his barony behind him in flames and his pockets and bags filled to bursting with copper coins and slips of debt. His wings were so weighed down by the cloth and tapestries wrapped around his shell that he could no longer fly, but it was necessary if he wanted to rescue anything from his family’s ancestral home. He wouldn’t learn till much later how the army had ruled that all Touchikan’s were considered “ruminants” and therefore were placed into the Empires slavery program. The outcry’s of outrage and rebellious warfare that ensued did nothing to convince the Empire of the insect people’s intelligence or sentience. None of this concerned Plotzkrieg as he sailed away form his homeland, his money secure inside of his wing’s air pocket, a small section of exoskeleton made to prevent air pressure from building up under his wing joints which made an excellent natural hiding place. He had sold everything he owned and still could claim in order to purchase safe travel to Jericho and the safe harbors beyond. Now as he starred into the night’s sky wondering what fate had tossed him into…. He couldn’t help overhearing a sailor mentioning the fabulous bazaar.

~*~

The back allies of Jericho’s bazaar felt like the least likely place for a Touchikan to ever find his home. The cramped alley way and tight spaces put unbelievable pressure on the armor like plates arranged across Plotz’s sides and his wings were constantly pinned to his back. However soon he was able to fight his way into the center of the bazaar where several small permanent shops stood about in a cluster. These back alley specialty shops dealt in everything form dark black rituals to wonderfully named drugs, promising the most powerful experiences this side of heaven. Plotz smirked slightly, his twin pincers clicking in delight as he thought of the fools dousing these drugs into their systems, only to wake up naked in some stream two towns over…

Plotzkrieg sighed as he let his upper left arm dangle to his side and slip into one of his suit’s pockets. He extracted a long gold chain and a special pocket watch, reading the many color coated dials carefully. It was an amazing device he had conned off of a wizard, which told the user their exact location, time and situation in any given moment )at the moment it was seven in the morning in the small port town and Plotzkrieg was listed as “disinherited”… which was obviously true.) He snapped the watch shut and rammed it back into his pocket, scowling as he thought about how… even when he was relatively new to the area the local merchants had already realized his pet peeve. He let his hands drift lazily as he waited, his third and fourth hands deftly pick pocketing two passing merchant carts and shoving a small scale and weight set, and a silver plated dagger into his pant’s pockets. These pockets were another ingenious invention, however they were of Plotzkrieg’s own design, flowing downwards and wrapping three times around the thin wisp like insect legs of their owner they bulked out his appearance, making him seem more human while providing ample hiding places for stolen or illicit goods.

Finally… fifteen minutes after he should have arrived, a squat odiferous salesman emerged form the smallest building and rubbing his grimy hands across his apron shook the lower two hands of the Touchikan. Plotzkrieg shuddered and twitched as his two most sensitive dexterous hands were manhandled, and as soon as he could he extricated them and hide them deep into the pants pockets. “I believe you were in the market to sell your fine store and its accompanying merchandise? Maybe we could go inside and you could… show me your wares” he said softly, rich voice easily carrying through the steamy air. The squat man smirked and nodded enthusiastically and led his new “friend” inside.

~*~

It took Plotz at least five hours to finally work the man down to a price he saw as reasonable… and considering that the business connected to his new home as well....Plotz felt that he had at least managed to maintain his upper hand. He retained at least half of his former fortune, and now he had a premises’ filled with arcane objects of dubious quality. His pincers clicked in anticipation as he knew he would soon be able to gouge the townsfolk of every penny they owned.

~~~**~~~
Plotzkrieg woke up seven days later to a torrential downpour. His new roof seemed to be in much worse a shop then it was when he bought it… or so he told himself. He sighed as he patched the roof with a few scrap pieces of leather, slowly applying the tanned hides with the sticky glue like substance he had found in a crate marked repairs. His first week in the new town hadn’t been a roaring success, and waking up to a new hole in his roof didn’t improve his outlook one bit.

Emerging form his home a few moments later into the steaming street, Plotz had to raise his pincer clad hands to his glasses and readjust them. He hated the wet weather, especially since it prevented him form seeing half the time. His race had developed a slim sticky film which coated the eyes and protected them during any flight they undertook. While this was a necessary adjustment, the film tended to get stuck and grimy in humid weather, and living off of the ocean was not really agreeing with the large Touchikan. He scanned the streets as he slowly moved, large carapace bumping against some of the smaller stalls. The townsfolk had in the begging complained and hollered each time Plotzkrieg had wandered the streets upsetting goods… now everyone simply moved anything fragile from the edges of their carts and let the other goods pile up at the corners.

Plotz was not looking for anything in particular this day, which was unusual for him. During the last week he had scoured every single inch of the town seeking out whatever he could find. Now his feet marched him along the piers randomly, his arms pulled close to his body in a dual cross shape, huddling close to his frame. Plotzkrieg was unsure of himself today and this made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He knew he had to find something in this small town that would make him a fortune… or else he could never really return to his home. He had a plan… one that would cost a small fortune to complete but one he wanted to see to fruition with his entire body and soul.

As it happened, fate had it’s hands on Plotzkrieg’s shoulder as he ambled about aimlessly. The Touchikan was just about to head home, when a small male figure ran past him. It was clear that this man had something to hide, as the dock master and his assistants came peeling after him, screaming in rage. For the rest of his adult life he would not understand what compelled him to act… but Plotzkrieg slowly moved till he blocked the dock. His ample back carapace filled the dock and prevented the dock master and his lackeys form coming forward. “What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you see we need to get by,” they screamed almost in unison as Plotzkrieg pretended to be reading the shipping marks on a series of crates.

The thief had pulled up short to watch the strange events, and as he tried to comprehend why the forgiver would aid him, Plotz flipped him one of the thousands of tiny cards he had created his first day in the city. The card contained everything the thief would need to know to look up the older Touchikan. Without really knowing why or how, Plotzkrieg had taken the first step into a dark and twisted path which might someday lead to his ultimate success… or his ultimate corruption.

~~~**~~~

It would be five more days before Plotzkrieg would hear from the thin man again. He had almost written the whole incident off to dumb luck when the bell hanging over his shop door alerted him to a customer. His large body rolled around from it’s position over a small weathered book and he rearranged his spectacles, expecting yet another mage trying to peddle off some shiny bauble or another. To his surprise the thin man stood before him, now dressed much more impressively. “I came to officially thank you for saving me back there…” the young man said, his words flowing out like silk.” If it hadn’t been for your… quite sturdy back I would probably be under the pier rotting… I thought it would be best to stop by and offer you my gratitude… and an opportunity.” From the way he spoke it was clear to Plotzkrieg that the man meant something… beyond simple friendship, and so without more then a nod form the large insect-man, He lead his new guest into the back rooms where Plotzkrieg made his humble home. His assistant (a new addition) took over almost immediately, leaving very little problems whenever something like this came up.

After pouring the thin set male a large decanter of brandy, Plotz sat himself down on a small padded chair, built specifically for his race. “So what exactly did you have in mind? Mind you my fighting days are long since over… I haven’t held a blade in my pincers since before you were probably a larv… I mean child.” Plotzkrieg’s normally green skin tinged a bit yellow from his obvious mistake.

“ Well, actually what I had in mind was… you acting as a sort of.. .moving house. You see I work for a collection of… independent dealers who wish to move a great deal of a certain good in and out of this fair port each day. You would provide the housing facility, and take a large portion of the profits from each transaction yourself. After a long period of time working together I am sure you would become… quite wealthy…” The thin man steepled his fingers together as he finished talking and starred into his reflection form Plotz’s gold tinted glasses.

“So if I understand you correctly you want me to act as a drug mule correct?” As usual Plotz cut directly to the meat of the conversation, but for once his guest didn’t seem to mind his manner and in fact smiled darkly at the reference.

“That’s exactly what we want form you yes… you would have the items delivered to you each day, and you would keep them out of sight for a few days… perhaps till the porters stopped searching for their whereabouts… and then we would pick them up and deliver a tidy sum to your coffers.”

“The problem I have with this deal is what happens if the porters decide to do a random inspection of my shop? It’s rare but it has happened before… and I certainly do not want to draw attention to myself when I only just landed in this country… you have to see that there are certain risks in completing tasks like this.” Plotz spread his twin upper arms wide and let his pincers fall open in a traditional placating gesture that didn’t loss it’s effect on the thin set male. He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few moments before responding.
“We would be willing to provide you with a … retainer of sorts. We could pay as much as…. Eighty ounces of pure silver in coin form? This should suffice to guarantee you against any charges you might face.”

Plotzkrieg let the figure slowly slip into his mind and his lower set of pincers clicked thoughtfully. It was true that forty ounces was the usual penalty for having illicit substances for sale in your shop but… he also knew that this man had to have had a reason to come out this far… to risk so much and trust Plotz. “I understand that your offer is…. generous… But I need more of a retainer if I am to also keep my silence. You see if I got one of your shipments and decided to turn it over to the deck-master… I would not only receive a reward for that shipment but.. .when your dealer comes to pick up the goods I would get a second reward… I don’t really thing Eighty ounces is enough… it would have to be something more along the lines of one hundred and fifty ounces before I would be willing to much my own thick exoskeleton on the line.” He folded both sets of arms and leaned back into the cradle of the seat, letting his wings suddenly unfurl and sweep behind the chair’s back into two long perforated brackets specially designed to let the membranes dry out. It was an impressive movement, his yellow gold wings hitting the sunlight and flashing translucently in the morning air.

~*~

That evening Plotzkrieg was busy counting out the ounces of silver he had received, a seductive smirk plastered on his face as each tiny weight showed him more and more of a profit. He had talked the man into a retainer of one hundred and thirty silver ounces along with a guarantee of at least five times that amount by the end of the month. It might have been a bad business to be in but.. .as he tied the bag which held the tiny coins together and placed it into his pocket he knew that within a few years he could finally enact his revenge. The Baron Von Plotzkrieg, once renowned for his massive fields of crops and his lenient manner with his servants and employees, was now Baron Von Plotzkrieg, baron over the ever expanding addictions of Jericho.


~~~***~~~(start chapter two)

Dawn was brighter then usual on this morning, as the light filtered through the large crystal hanging above the parishioner’s heads. The temple was the only one in the small port town and the large crystal that hung suspended within the buildings roof supports was a donation form the faiths main church many miles inland. Von Plotzkrieg walked into the building slowly, having to move sideways down the long isles of benches arranged on either side of the altar. He finally selected a row about midway up the line and slipped his carapace into the seat, groaning softly as his exoskeleton was forced to conform to the bench. His eyes drifted skyward as the priest began the ceremony and the sun filtered into the room filling it with colored lights of every hue. Normally he wasn’t a religious man, but in this world Plotz had learned to take every advantage you could.

The daily affirmations of faith drug on and as Plotzkrieg’s mind wandered his eyes did the same, taking in the rich tapestries hanging from the walls and the precious stones glimmering in the metals hanging on the walls. He was impressed at first but… it stood to reason that the temple of the town would be one of the richest buildings, since it had help from more successful merchants inland who passed through the town on business. His mind wandered over to the large tables in the back of the temple which held the offerings to the gods and his eyes examined the many packages and platters of food. He wondered how many of the packages held things the owners had actually earned and how many were simply items they had received as gifts and had no other way to get rid of. For some reason he doubted the sincerity of most of the temples practitioners.

He had come to this temple everyday for three weeks now, ever since he began his back alley dealings with the local crime syndicate. He felt the karma boost he received from coming here and preparing gifts to the god of the temple offset his negative earnings, and so he was one of the most religious practitioners in the entire port town. As the priest finally finished his sermon and the genuflecting began Plotzkrieg rose with the rest of the congregation and went through the familiar pattern of motions with both sets of limbs. Finally the ceremony ended and Plotzkrieg beat the familiar path out of the building and into the salty air of the inner city.

The city swarmed with life today, with three large shipping boats landing in the port this morning and two more arriving last night in the darkness. One of these two mystery boats was Plotzkrieg’s eventual target, and as his feet wound their way through the packed city streets his eyes always roamed over the black masts of the large shipping vessel. His path finally ended around noon and he found himself waiting outside of the dock to the large dark boat. He had already checked its hull and seen the small glittering mark of the open lidless eye scratched onto the boats prow. Now all he had to do was find the quartermaster and get the package marked for him.

The quartermaster of this particular dock was a very large surly human who didn’t like the varied races of the world, and as a large beetle was currently walking towards him he was found wearing a very disapproving scowl. Plotzkrieg was polite as possible but nothing would really help this situation. With an impolite grunt the quartermaster shoved the package into Plotz’s arms and told him to get off of his dock as fast as possible. This was how it worked, every few days a new message would arrive telling him a boat would soon be in port, and within a few nights he would arrive and receive the package. As his feet took him back into the inner city his pincers curled in a mimic of a human smile, as he noticed what a nice day it was for a package.

~*~

Like always it wasn’t long before someone arrived with the lidless eye etched into their skin and a request for a package. Plotzkrieg hated having to see all many of human and demi-human appendages and less pleasing body parts shoved into his face, but by the fifth week it was another familiar part of his routines. Today it was a young woman with the eye etched into her left breast. Plotz was unaffected by what many might call a destruction of beauty, since of course to him a human didn’t look at all appetizing as a mate, but he still had a small tinge of regret for the young woman that would have her body scarred in such a way. He handed the package over dutifully and received a small bag bulging full of silver and bronze coins. He smiled as the woman left and he plopped the large bag into a small metal strong box he had hidden under his register. This was his secret fund and it was almost ready for the first stage of his plans.


~~**~~

It was a bright sunny day in the fourth month of the year. It had been at least seven weeks since Plotzkrieg began his new life, and as he walked down the docks today it was his own business which guided his feet. He approached the small long building off to the side of the main docks with a slight skip to his segmented feet. He was happier then he could remember today, and all of his hard work and shady deals had finally come to his first true profit.

The shipwright’s hall was sparsely furnished, containing mostly the major tools of the trade, large saws and hammers, along with oversized tongs for steadying the wood before fitting. As Plotz walked into the building a young simpering apprentice came scurrying out of the woodworks and bowed reverently to the large insectoid. “What brings one of the finest merchants in all of Jericho to our humble shop this morning,” the man asked in a sugary coated voice. Plotz stared at him for a few moments before coughing to clear his throat. “I came in wondering if I could hire someone to construct a small ship for my own personal use… I want something that would allow me to sail back and forth between a neighboring island swiftly, discreetly, and with enough carrying space to ship several large crates of goods.” As he finished this short speech he hoisted up the small bag he was carrying which held a large assortment of stamped coins.

The apprentice’s eyes lit up as he measured the bag in his mind. He scurried away and moments afterwards the shipwright came trudging out of the workshops main area and began to discuss plans. Plotzkrieg decided with the wrights help to buy a schooner, which would allow him to store several large crates of goods and have a minimal crew on board at one time. In fact if winds were favorable, the shipwright explained that Plotzkrieg could sail the boat almost single handedly, and since he already had the hands of two men it would be even easier to manage. The schooner’s speed was what finally made the decision for Plotz as he saw himself needing something hide-able but more importantly, fast enough to outrun larger military boats.

Leaving the shipwright with only half of the gold and silver he had procured did not bother Plotzkrieg in the least. A good crew could be easily bought with the remaining money he had, and what he had planned didn’t even need to happen for several months. This was a boon as it meant Plotzkrieg could wait until a new fresh boat was built, significantly reducing the cost of his vessel. He hummed to himself merrily as he walked back to his shop and checked off a small list of supplies he would need. In a few months his plans would finally be put into motion, and he would begin to get his revenge on the humans who took his land from him.



~~~***~~~


Plotzkrieg walked out of his home on the twelfth month of that year. The air was cold and a light snow was already falling further inland, but on the coast the seasonal winds kept the temperature just above freezing. Plotzkrieg walked out to the docks and looked out at his small sailing ship. It was ready for sailing at a moments notice, and the small crew he had hired were kept busy fixing sails and running smaller scale operations around the bay. Today however, Plotzkrieg was dressed for adventure, and as he had left instructions for any messengers not to drop anything off for two weeks he had fully covered himself.

That afternoon Plotz set off with the sun burning on his naked carapace, staining it a soft golden hue as his sails unfurled and hit the southern winds, pushing him towards home.


Wes.