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0.Overture

Tan leaned forward and tried to peer through the darkness at the edge of the ship’s windshield where an illuminated giant squid – red and black with rainbow lights flashing in hypnotic strips up the skin tried its best to pull itself up upon the deck. With a flash of lightning, he saw webbed tentacles lined with suckers and cirri spikes in stark outline. The squid weaved its limbs between bars of the railing and flailed uselessly against the vicious winds of the storm-torn sea of space.

A hurricane. A sailor’s worst nightmare at sea. Winds so strong, the sky ship had to be set down upon the waters to avoid capsizing. Tidal waves of water and anti-matter swirling with stardust tossed the toy of a ship as though it was weightless, as though it was meaningless. The crates of gear slid off the sides of the ship as a particularly colossal wave and wrenching gust of wind tore metal clasps from the ship deck. Random bursts of spray doused everything in stinking seawater and sparkles.

Blue flashes of lightning and the polychromatic squid itself provided the only light, the world barely visible between the obscuring sheets of rain and oceanic conflict. Everything was being rent apart by gods of the sea and heavens at war. The very sky itself was tearing with thin white fissures of lightning.

“What the fuck is that?” Mansour gripped the wheel with all his strength, despite the fact his massive frame was lashed to it, his voice tight with urgency.

Hernando didn’t answer, pressing the buttons on the steaming console like a piano that played only a cacophony of beeping. Tan noticed how disheveled he looked in his signature black and white striped ensemble, splattered with Mansour’s café touba spiced with grains of selim. Even in the throes of combat Hernando had never look so unkempt. Tan longed to help straighten his sleeve, right his handlebar mustache, anything to claim some sense of normalcy.

Instead, he returned to stare at the squid, senselessly transfixed. “How is it so big?” he pondered aloud. With a flash of lightning rather too close for comfort, Tan saw through the sheet of flesh webbing connecting the tentacles, the giant creature still trying to pull itself up on the bucking waves. They were deafened by the thunderous crash of the sound of the bolt, so loud that when the three men cried out, they couldn’t hear themselves.

The ship bucked and dove over another massive wave, sending the men, the ship, and the monster lurching portside. When they were righted, Hernando spun the talking bell connected to the engine room. “Still with us, Conrad?”

“To whatever end.” their engineer’s muffled reply sounded labored even from afar, “But we’re low on bubble solution.”

Hernando spun the bell and the tube out of the way. To run out of the ship’s fuel in such conditions was too dire for consideration. Another wave bucked them upwards, their heads nearly hitting the ceiling. Tan grasped at Hernando’s arm and helped pull him back to the console. His lover gripped his arm tightly but that moment was not long enough; it was the last time they would touch.

The ship cried out once more in despair with such gusto, Tan felt it in his bones. One more wave and – too late. Time slowed as a rogue wave crashed over the petrifying scene. It rose over the ship and lifted the beast over the deck. Tan was surprised to meet blue eyes filled with the depths of stars; he thought he recognized some form of sentience. At the last moment before impact, he realized that it was a giant Vampire Squid. Tan had no time to react to the irony as the wave destroyed the windshield and dismantled all before his eyes. He was instantly knocked unconscious.

Tan came to in the spacewater. The stars and stardust twinkled enough that he could see black kelp in the darkness stretching high overhead. The weight of the sea was devastating as he struggled to swim in the direction the kelp grew upwards. Currents of gravity pulled him with the trough of the waves in a cartwheel. Panic froze his mind of all other thoughts: Hernando was sure to be dead. Only Tan could survive because he was a vampire. Without need to breathe, drowning was not an option – but there were other ways one could meet their end in the sea of space.

The flash of lights nearby illuminated a school of silver fish flopping uselessly against the waves. Tan looked around best as he could in the chaos underwater and saw the squid turn to approach from afar, its movements graceful and lithe now that it was in the water. He swam as fast as he could upwards and away, searching for any sign of the ship. The waters and colorful clouds of nebulae brightened around him as the squid gained on him. In a furious sprint, he managed to break the surface. The winds raged overhead in the darkness, the lightning less frequent than before.

Desperate to get away, Tan transformed into his vampiric bat form, flapping uselessly to try to gain height. His animal senses were immediately overwhelmed by the extremity of the sound of the thunder, the three-dimensional awareness of the raindrops around him, and the millions of fishy smells emanating from the spacewater. It was a surprise when he slapped into the water face first once again, transforming back into his human form.

He tried to cry for help as he struggled to stay above the water, but there was none to hear him. There! – he saw a scrap of the metal hull. Tan paddled fiercely and pulled himself upon it with the force of his adrenaline. He spent a moment itching away the tickling sensation of antimatter in his ear. It drained down his front in void rivulets blacker than the darkness. Below, the water glowed ominously; the squid waiting below him. The metal was big enough that he could lay upon it and had a few feet on either side, but it was treacherously curved and would eventually be sunk if filled.

For an interminably long period of time, Tan shoveled water out of the lip of the curve with his hands. The squid remained below. As time passed, the storm lessened but never ceased. When it calmed, the squid sank below into the abyss. He sank down onto his back and collapsed to exhaustion.

Tan never found Hernando, nor Mansour, nor any of his crew that night. Atanase the vampire floated on a current back to the coast and eventually found his way home to Susveda and Castle Belesti. The castle’s menacing spikes and depressing black stone exterior once terrorized him, designed as it was to do so by his tyrannical father. But after the hurricane, that façade provided a profound feeling of safety by virtue of being familiar, despite the castle’s haunted past and disgustingly abandoned interior. Broken by the total loss of all those he held dear, he returned to the haunted home of his youth and an entirely transformed city to grieve.

Author’s note: I’ll see you at the end of January for the start of the adventure! I’m also working on a painting of the squid attack that should be released for subscribers around the same time.

I live in Minneapolis and ICE is currently invading my city. Please contact your Republican representatives (5calls.org) to ask them to end the ICE occupations. Keep fighting the good fight and causing good trouble. ❤

1.Vampire Pastoral

Susveda was not a utopia, far from it, but it could become one. The very potential felt eminent, an immutable quality of the land because of the beauty of her natural landscape: a valley surrounded by grassland hills and high mountains which declined toward the western harbor. Wood and stone buildings of every color and size clustered below with towering mushrooms growing alongside them in a fungal blight taking over the city east to west. The fruiting bodies were as varied and colorful as the buildings, as if whatever deity created them wished to rival the famed craftsmen of Susveda’s ornamental architecture. Where the rest of Susveda was full of color and light, the black stone exterior of Castle Belesti lay to the east in the shadow of the very mountains meant to render her safe from invasion, although they were shorter to the North where over the centuries her true enemies would come to reside.

It was in the castle that Tan woke from the nightmare of memory and choked, the sensation reminding him of coughing up seawater, panicking from the memory. Shooting up to sitting in the old butler’s cubby off the kitchen, Tan struggled to breathe, eyes wide as he looked around for the source of the disturbance, before noticing part of his struggle to breathe was all the dust he disturbed by waking. He calmed. The dust rained down through the ancient floorboards and the low wood plank ceiling of the sleeping nook. Brushing it away off his russet skin, he angrily wiped his eyes, probably smearing the dust over his face. Tan stilled himself and took a deep breath.

I am fine. I am in bed, at home, and it’s over. His senses returned, ears ringing in the silence. A year ago today, he lost all that he held dear in that horrible shipwreck. No wonder the nightmare was so clear. Tan ran his dusty fingers through his dark curly hair, cut short so it wasn’t a bother. He brushed the dust from his plain linen shirt, knowing he was a ghost of his former self: the infamous Bloodied Bandit, pirate on the Cambian Sea: reduced to a dusty nook and tearful memory. Tan often wished he had died with his crew that night but in truth, he felt too afraid to die. Plus, he had the itching impression that he wasn’t ready yet — as though he had some unfinished business to attend to first. That business had yet to appear.

Tan smoothed his hands over his chest with a shudder and swung his legs out the entrance of the little sleeping cubby set into the wall. It was exhausting getting through all the fragile routines required to keep his body moving despite his melancholy. The castle kitchen was only remotely cleaner than the sleeping nook. The stone hearth dominated the space, cold without its fire. That, and the oversized wooden table in the center of the kitchen.

First, he needed to feed. The routine was mechanical, a summoning ritual. Get up before too much of the blood was burned from his system by some mystical metabolic process, otherwise he might be too weak. The stone floor was cold against his bare feet and he made footprints in the dust as he went. To his left was the archway to the rest of the castle, boarded up to be forgotten. To his right was the little hall with one servant’s bedroom and washroom. It felt more practical to sleep in the cubby. No need for a full bedroom when he only wanted to sleep before returning outside. He walked past the ancient counters, bucket of water, and ever-empty cabinets to the door, glancing out the spider webs of the kitchen window. Light rain again. No visible sun, good. Tan bent down and pulled on his worn leather boots without socks, grimacing a moment at the feeling of dust in his boots.

A little smile played on his lips anticipating the arrival of friends; he took a step outside the creaking kitchen door and turned to the burlap bags of dried corn and seeds to start his morning routine. Beside the castle kitchen was a little lawn turned meadow ringed with pine trees that saw most of his life. A well sat to the south, on his left, and the path to the river drew north, to his right.

He grabbed the scoops of corn and seeds and set to walk about the lawn, dumping lines and circles of feed around the short grass. Then, he lay down in the center of his seeded summoning circle, soaking up the gentle rain pattering on his skin and clothing. It calmed him. It felt cleansing. Wind swept the long grasses surrounding the clearing like fingers that also tousled his short curls in the whispering quiet. Despite the musty smell of the fungal spores on the wind, he smiled, surrendering to immersion.

The birds came first. They were cautious upon landing and flew away quickly. They tested the safety as they approached from afar, quickly grasping single seeds and fluttering away. Jays bullied the smaller birds as they grew comfortable in recognition that Tan would not move. That was the first step to making the rest of the animals feel comfortable enough to approach.

The squirrels were next. They couldn’t stand the jays benefitting unequally from the feeding situation. Between the bickering jays and squirrels, smaller birds snuck in for their fill, taking turns flapping in and out of the scene. Once the birds and squirrels were settled into a rhythm of sharing, the deer felt comfortable to approach the edge of the clearing, hearing promise of food from the noise of the other animals. They assessed the scene carefully from afar, watching the birds and Tan for any sign of unwanted movement, ears pinned in his direction. Over time, they learned this routine well, but still feared approach.

It was the young buck who came first today. Slowly, anxiously, he stepped forwards, sniffing at the ground and the food as he approached. There was velvet on his newly growing antlers. Tan was having good luck with taming the buck. He was first to approach for a while now and made an easy meal, but Tan didn’t want to drink from the buck too often and weaken him. That meant today was a waiting day.

Tan lay patiently, enjoying the birds, their songs, and squabbles. The little ripples of emotion rubbed at the edge of his consciousness soft like deer velvet, an animal sense he gained when he was turned, probably from his bat form. The buck approached in slow motion and started to eat. The deer’s coat was very short to prepare for the heat of the summer. The rain rolled over his coat easily. Over time, the buck relaxed and that was enough to encourage the rest of the deer to begin their own journeys to the center of the clearing. It was a small herd, mostly does, a few yearlings. The older doe was a grouchy sort. She stomped and snorted as she got close, as if to tell Tan she didn’t trust him, despite his good behavior.

Tan smiled sweetly at the doe. “It’s alright, you’re safe,” he whispered. The doe snorted once more, as if she still didn’t believe him. “Have it your way,” he shrugged. She didn’t move for a long time, making a show of stomping her feet and snuffling, as if tempting him to try something or lash out at her. Tan didn’t move.

He could wait for the right opportunity to keep the trust he built with the deer. Another doe with a rounded belly moved in and got close, trying to reach food near his arm. Over the next few minutes, he moved in to pet the deer. She reacted with a little startle at the movement and touch, but allowed it to continue when it remained soft and light. Tan spent the next ten minutes leaning his face in towards the deer’s neck with the smell of wet animal musk increasing as he leaned in. He readied his mouth near the top of her neck. Gently, he scraped his left fang over the skin and fur, his right one made of gold, replaced after it was knocked out in a fight over a game of cards. Over the years it was becoming more dull than his natural fang.

The first try wasn’t deep enough, a scratch on the surface. He tried again, this time, catching the skin and breaking it while he rubbed the deer’s chest to distract her. The blood tasted like the coppery life of the deer, her grassy habitat, and vaguely of all the vegetation she ate. Tan could taste the emotions of the deer in her blood. The deer was calm and happy to be eating food that she liked. She was thinking of the fawn in her belly and how close she was to birthing; it was her second fawn. The first had grown to become one of the yearlings in their herd. In slow motion, Tan drank the little stream of blood from her neck, feeling stronger and more energized as he did. When he felt just full enough to go about his day, he gently licked the wound, healing it, before backing carefully away from the deer.

The deer snapped to attention. It took a moment for Tan’s ears to catch up to hear the crunching of boots up the trail to the castle entrance. He stood and sent the herd running. No one came to Castle Belesti. It was left to rot for the horrors of its past. Tan had less than a minute to decide whether to stay or go – or at least he thought. A woman with blazing orange hair in a very messy updo walked ahead of the group, apparently much quieter on her feet. She strolled past the tree cover and stopped when she saw Tan standing alert in the clearing beside the castle, eyes widening at the sight. Her companions jogged up to meet her.

An extremely tall woman emerged drawing a crossbow from her back. Her black ponytail set high against her pale skin made her look even taller. A handsome man with a neat fade in his black hair looked to his other companions first with concern before he saw Tan across the distance. Tan started to back away, but the tall one had finished loading her crossbow and aimed it, strolling ahead to meet him.

When they were within hearing, she called out, “Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth, but Tan couldn’t begin to explain – suddenly aware of his appearance. He smoothed his curls and tried to wipe more of the dust from his white linen blouse, then cleared his throat with embarrassment. He was sure if they got close they would smell how long it had been since he’d bathed.

She didn’t wait for his response. “Whose side are you on?” She stared intensely as she leveled the crossbow towards his chest.

He stopped fussing and met her gaze. “What?”

“Are you friend or foe to the Susvedans and Trevistans?”

Tan inhaled sharply. “Friend, of course.”

To his surprise, she immediately lowered the crossbow. “Who are you? What are you doing in this wretched place?”

Tan resumed his fidgeting. “I’m – I’m Tan. The rest is…hard to explain.” He decided to deflect. “No one ever comes here. What are you doing here?”

The woman returned her crossbow to her back. “I’m Fang. We’re here to see if this place is salvageable. Have you been living here?” She nodded towards the bleak stone of the castle.

“Um, kind of, just for sleep.”

The three companions looked him up and down with obvious concern. “Has anyone else been living here?” Fang asked.

“No.”

“Good,” Fang crossed her arms across her chest. “So, what do you think? Is this place salvageable? We’re trying to find places for barracks and it would be faster to use existing structures.”

“Barracks? What’s going on?”

“You haven’t heard?” The other woman asked. Her round glasses magnified her eyes and her patchwork dress with paint splatters was quite the addition to her disheveled hair. “The Northlanders are coming.”

“What?! Why?” Tan exclaimed.

“The Trevistan Liberation Front,” the man said. Tan noticed although his hair may have been neat, the rest of his navy blue clothing was covered in a fine layer of sawdust. “They blame Susveda for ‘fostering and protecting insurrectionists.’” He mocked the governmental tone with a roll of his almond eyes. “That and to avenge the Count.”

Tan’s breath caught at the memories that swept through his mind. He was at sea when he heard of his father’s murder by mob from Susveda, burned at the stake. He was pirating with Hernando after his escape from the tyranny of his father, stealing back the gold that belonged to the Trevistans and sending Northlander ships back empty-handed. “How long until they arrive?”

“A few days at most. A day at least. But you still haven’t answered my question – the castle,” Fang pressed.

Tan’s chest tightened with fear at the thought of telling her the truth about his relationship to the castle, so he chose to remain vague. “I’ve been sleeping in the kitchen. The rest is boarded up. The kitchen is usable. I couldn’t say about the rest.”

Fang sighed. “Well, sorry Tan, but I think we’re going to break open the rest of the castle to check it out. If we can use it, you’ll be joined by as many folks as we can fit in here.”

He stuttered, “Ye-Yeah. Anything to keep the Northlanders out.”

“So you’re pretty out of the loop, are you?” The man asked.

“Yeah,” Tan admitted.

“Then you probably don’t know they’re Northlandia now.”

“What?” Tan asked to prompt him. With a wave to follow, Fang and the group walked away from the clearing towards the grand castle entrance.

“About oh, a month ago, I think, the Northlander Alliance joined together to become a country – Northlandia. I’m Bowen, by the way, that’s Flo.” Flo gave him a little wave as they approached the menacing doors set with iron devils curled amongst ivy. Fang tried the handle first but it was locked. She backed away for Flo who walked up and grabbed the iron handles with both hands. As she held them, they started to freeze, cracking with ice crystals that climbed over the dark iron until she pulled, shattering the handles and internal locking mechanism. The doors opened just a slice, releasing a puff of blackened dust that looked like an exorcised spirit leaving the castle. The group shuddered involuntarily.

“Is there no better building in the city proper?” Tan asked, a knot growing in his throat as Fang approached the doors.

“Not on this scale, and not as defensible,” Fang said. “But I get it. No one wants to be back here, but if it could help -” She pulled open the heavy doors and trailed off as she looked into the darkness beyond.

The group leaned in together as they looked into the darkness, expecting something to come at them from the haunted depths, but there was nothing, and after a while they smirked to each other at their collective anxieties.

“Well, Tan,” Fang glanced back at him, “We can use all the help we can get. Are you with us?”

Tan looked between the group and found kind eyes looking hopefully back at him. How else could he reply? “Yes.” And despite the fact he had sworn to never step back into the castle entrance hall that haunted his past, he took a breath and walked in to the darkness with the rest of the group.

They stood for a moment in the intimidating darkness before Flo beckoned a light into the palm of her hand, ice crystals sparkling around her palm. The only other light in the entrance hall filtered in from dust-covered stained glass windows high above the throne to the west. The room disorientated by requiring entrants to immediately turn left upon entry to view the raised dais and throne far beyond, back in the direction of Susveda from whence they came. Although the room was silent, there was a sound of whistling wind somewhere, as though some window might be open. Despite the warmth of the summer’s day, the stone castle felt cold from its perpetual shadow of darkness. The room appeared to be long abandoned, the dust pooling thick upon the red carpet and the wood-plank floors. The planks croaked dangerously as they walked forward, portending future breaks.

“Well…” Bowen said softly, as if fearful to disturb the tomb-like silence. “It needs work…”

Fang snorted, then sneezed from the dust. They all froze, expecting something to be awakened by the sudden sound. Nothing seemed to move or change. When nothing happened, Fang replied, “You don’t say. How do you want to tackle this?” They stood together, hackles still raised as they assessed the room.

“Lights?” Bowen asked Flo, motioning to a candelabra set on the wall.

Flo blew on her light like a kiss and it floated from her palm to the ancient candles. She looked around the room and sent her light towards any more candles she found. When she was done, the room was illuminated by her bright icy light, exposing the extent of the dust and decay. Petrified food sat on plates on a buffet along the north side of the room, closest to the kitchen hallway. There was animal excrement littered around the place, along with dried black patches of what was probably blood, left to intimidate any who entered. Spider webs caked with dust accumulated in every corner and hung from every ornament. The devilish motifs continued from the door as iron-embossed wood paneling on the lower half of the walls of the stone room.

“There,” Fang pointed to the stone spiral staircase at the back of the room and Tan’s heart leapt to his throat. “The way to the tower. That would be best for Marjean’s work and keeping a lookout.”

“Marjean?” Tan’s voice cracked as they started walking as a group towards stairs he vowed he’d never climb again. His legs trembled as they started the tight ascent that echoed too loudly on the stone steps.

“Our witch. We’re going to fetch her tomorrow soon as we can. She’s one of the best necromancers to ever live. But she lives east of the mountains without much access to communications. You can come with if you want, more the merrier and all that.” Fang said it so casually. But half his mind and body was elsewhere as he ascended the steps near the back of their group and the cold shivers went up his hands to his forearms.

The door at the top was unlocked and the group walked into the dusty space to find the bedroom mostly intact, despite the open window gridded with iron and the pigeon detritus across every surface. The bed, the child toys, and furniture were just as they were the day Tan left so many years ago, only a few years after his father turned him into a vampire.

“Oh right, he had a child,” Flo said as she picked up a molded book left on the desk and started to flip through the pages.

“Can you imagine being that guy’s kid? Ugh,” Bowen shuddered as he started to explore the space, admiring the carved bedposts with an artist’s eye.

Tan stood in silence unmoving.

“Well it’s a good thing they got out before things got really bad,” Fang said as she examined the table in the center of the room, testing its weight capacity by pushing on the tabletop. It creaked but did not give, which seemed to satisfy her.

“Oh my gosh, look,” Flo held up the book to show an ancient sketch in black ink of a little girl’s skillful self-portrait as she looked sadly into her mirror. “There she is, Amelia Lupescu.”

Tan stopped pretending to breathe and joined the group in looking at the page from afar, remembering the scratch of pen on paper and the accidental drop of ink in the corner. She was so sad and alone that night, she had spent a few hours sketching to distract from the awfulness of her situation.

“Gods,” Fang said. “Creepy. Well, hope she doesn’t mind we’re taking over her bedroom for a necromancer’s setup!” The trio laughed together and went about the room looking things over. “At least the floor seems more stable here. Must be reinforced with stone below. We can make this work. I’ll get over to Xiu’s and -” the words faded away from Tan’s awareness as he looked about the room and found the dusty mirror framed in silver. It was tipped down to accommodate his height as a youth. He went to it in a daze and tilted it upward. There was nothing there. No more reflection to haunt him. He exhaled and stepped away, running a hand through his hair to shake off the haze.

“Tan?” Bowen interrupted his thoughts and he snapped to attention. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Tan said, stepping out of the mirror’s range. “Just creeped out. What’s next?”

Flo and Fang seemed eager to move on. They started walking to the door together barely glancing back to see if Bowen and Tan were following. Fang replied, “Back to Xiu’s to get the crew set up for tomorrow. We’re going out to the highlands around the crack of dawn so we can get back at a decent time, as long as Timothy comes willingly.”

“Timothy?” Tan prompted.

“You’ll meet him if you join us tomorrow. He can be…a lot.” Flo quipped as they started to walk down the stairs. Tan lingered a moment as he and Bowen waited for the women to start their descent.

“You alright?” Bowen leaned in to ask Tan. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Tan smirked, feeling old and tired. “Something like that. I’m alright.” Bowen let it go and followed the crew down the stairs. As he descended the steps, Tan felt better. He felt even better as he left the doors of the haunted castle and could finally breathe the clean air and feel the drizzling rain on his skin once more. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes to take it in.

“So, Tan, are you coming?” He opened his eyes as Fang paused on the trail towards Susveda. She was motioning towards the trail, something inviting but uncaring about her gesture, as if both yes and no were acceptable responses. He swallowed his shame about his appearance and fear about others recognizing him. He could help. He certainly wanted to keep the Northlanders out of Susveda and would welcome the chance to help Trevista again.

“Yeah,” he said, and followed them away from the castle and down the trail towards Susveda, glad to leave the ghosts in the past and behind him.

Author’s Note:

This one took extra long because I’ve been very stressed with the ICE occupation of my city and taking on additional tasks with that. I’m still going to try to upload around the 15th and last day of every month, but first few may be a bit behind now. I’m also updating the art to be unscheduled, as I am able to get them done, since the first one took way longer than I expected to finish. Thank you very much for reading! See you next time 🙂

2. City of Anarchists

Fang, Flo, Bowen and Tan approached the city proper via the winding path through dark coniferous trees. They drew up masks and scarves to protect from the increase of spore density in the air. When they stepped down onto the well-maintained cobblestone street, they merged into the river of people flowing through the city going about their business despite the spores that threatened their lungs and the impending invasion from the north. Spore clouds danced along the coastal breeze like fog. The mushrooms towered alongside the buildings, feeding off of the wood. The effect was beautiful – the fungi just as ornamental and diverse in shape and color as the buildings they grew off of. Some were the shape of coral, branching in impossibly bright orange and pink. Others had white hairlike growths that descended from the fruiting body in arcs ending in points. Others were the more traditional toadstool shape in blues, greens, and purples. Even through scarves and masks, the air smelled musty and sweet with natural decay of the wood.

In general, the ground floor of the buildings housed workshops, gathering spaces, and distribution centers that functioned like markets. The higher levels were dedicated to housing, apartments, and hostels. Even in the few weeks since Tan had last flown over Susveda in bat form, he could tell new homes had been built; there were new additions to existing buildings painted contrasting colors to draw attention to their expansion. Wood-carved appliques and dollhouse filigree accented empty spaces. Other buildings highlighted the empty spaces with exaggerated minimalism at the residents preference. The abundant diversity of architectural design and artistic expression brought a sensation of exuberance. As one walked, they blended together in a kaleidoscope of color, shape, and fungal forms.

They passed by a street gathering where a bearded dwarf stood upon a porch railing to address the crowd. “…We are in a global revolution. The Northlanders think they can come here, Trevista, anywhere in this world, and force us into chains! They would force my people back to slavery, mining in the mountains for their greed, just as they make the Trevistans!” The crowd cheered in support after each shouted accusation. “We the people took back our power by killing their Count and claiming ownership over our city, over our lives! They fear what they don’t understand – what they could never understand! I identify as a woman, and fuck anyone who thinks they can decide how I live my life, how I inhabit and experience my own body! Fuck the government! Fuck the Fascist pigs they send to put us down! Anarchy and solidarity forever!…”

Their group walked past the cheering crowd and Tan was curious where the rest of the dwarf’s speech would go, even though the mere mention of the Count and the impending invasion sickened his gut. The Count was murdered a few weeks before the fateful shipwreck, the only reason Tan felt safe enough to return to Susveda. It took a year for the Northlander Alliance to become the country of Northlandia and assemble the necessary troops, supposedly to terrorize Susveda.

Tan realized he had started to breathe high in his chest after the speech. He lowered his breath in his belly, trying to calm himself, then, turned his focus outward once more to distract. His favorite part of the city had always been the columns. The buildings were raised on strong stilts to protect the buildings from floods. Elevated boardwalks connected the covered front porches of every building on the block. Sidewalks descended in ramps. Every few feet there was a wooden column on the street side that had been decorated and carved over the years by artists, residents, and children. He passed by a column carved with dragons fighting unicorns, painted blue. The next was tied with string and pasted with child paper crafts. As they needed maintaining, designs changed, so that each time he walked past, there was often new column art to find.

“Hi”, “Hello,” “How’s it going?” The people talked or nodded their greetings to the trio who walked ahead of Tan. They in turn responded with waves and “How do you do’s.” The city was home to many migrants from the lands around Susveda. Orcs and dwarves from the mountains who walked with great axes and longswords strapped to their kit; Fairies from the forests flitted overhead or sat on the shoulders or hats of passersby; Mothlingx from the island of Newll clicked and purred. The human-sized moths strolled on their hindmost legs, sporting wings and feathers of every color. Their native language was famous for not having the letter ‘s’ which they replaced in common tongue with ‘x’ in spelling to honor their linguistic heritage. Horse and carriages clattered on the cobblestones alongside the very first auto-mobiles from factories in the north – a bit controversial given the current conflict with Northlandia. Their drivers earned a few judgmental stares from those on the boardwalk.

The spores and mushrooms lessened as they went west towards the coast, so Fang and Flo lowered their masks and seemed to relax a bit, linking arms and leaning in together. Bowen strolled alongside with his hands in his pockets glancing back at Tan every so often. At the next block, Fang turned back to Tan. “We’ll stop at the workshop first.” Tan didn’t ask for clarification, but they turned and headed south a block to a quaintly decorated two-story building with a painted pink and orange double doorway. As they got closer, the intricate carving work on the outside of the building came into focus: ivy leaves and the Susvedan palm tree iconography of the city looped around the windows to the workshop. They lingered only a moment before Flo and Bowen opened the doors together.

Inside they found a scattering of woodworking tools and paint. Sawdust lingered on every surface. Yet, the space was still warm and comfortable as if only recently abandoned. To his surprise, a long-haired orange and white tabby cat came trotting to meet them while mewling.

Bowen gave a grand bow and presented the feline. “This is Bowie, son of Bowen.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Tan smiled, bending down to stroke the impossibly soft cat. Sawdust stuck to the long fur of his toes but the rest of his fur was pristine.

“Our greeter,” Flo smiled. She set to putting paints and brushes into an empty box while Bowen jogged up the stairs in the back to the residence. Fang lingered by Tan and Bowie. When he stood, Tan admired the paintings done directly on the walls. There were botanical illustrations of mushrooms he recognized from around the city. Foxes and badgers weaved through underbrush and owls poked out from holes in trees. Bowie became displeased with the lack of Tan’s attention, so he jumped onto the table beside him where a bed was prepared for his greeting purposes. Tan absently resumed his petting as he looked up at the ceiling and found it covered in wood-carved panels echoing the vine and palm of the exterior. Bowen’s feet pounded overhead as he made his way back to the staircase and rejoined them. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

Following Tan’s gaze, he said, “Sleepover tonight at Xiu’s. You’re welcome to join us, of course!” As he passed by, he winked. Tan blushed as red as his body could allow and he cleared his throat.

“Did, uh, did you do these?” He pointed up to the ceiling.

“Yes,” Bowen said, gesturing plainly about the room. “I work with wood, Flo works with paint. We make a great team.”

“At times,” Flo snarked back at him. “I’d prefer a little less sawdust in my paint, but we get on well enough.”

Bowen rolled his eyes with a smile.

“You guys are…incredibly talented,” Tan said, and noticed Bowen tense a bit.

“Heh, thanks,” He shook it off and gestured them to follow him out.

At Bowie’s protests, all four had to return to give a few more pets while he purred on his bed, then, they made their escape.

Xiu’s was just around the corner to the north. It was a faded green building with wood paneling on the lower half of the first floor. The windows on the corner of the building granted a panoramic view in and out, lined with white lace curtains. Inside, only a few patrons lounged about the bar area, the interior walls also paneled in the same green. As they rounded the corner, Tan noticed the plain and practical sign above the double doors, propped open to let visitors come and go. Upon entry, a very elderly and short woman with a neat grey bob emerged from the hall to the back kitchen.

“Who’s that?” she gestured at Tan with the spatula she held with eggs frying in a pan.

“Tan,” was all Fang said as she strode behind the bar and placed her crossbow somewhere below. Flo and Bowen made themselves comfortable, setting down their boxes and bags on the nearest tables and chairs. Feeling out of place, Tan wandered alongside Bowen and Flo to take a seat at the table as he fidgeted with his sleeves. The woman must have been the eponymous Xiu. She stared at Tan a moment before she returned to the kitchen. Once Fang made herself comfortable behind the bar donning a black apron, a slender orc woman in a finely-crocheted white gown took a seat at the corner with a fairy, who sat at a fairy-sized table on the bar top.

A gorgeous Mothling gentleman sat in the corner at a table, leaned over, with his compound eyes against a blue microscope. His body was mostly feathered with a cyan blue, but bright crimson feathers accented his shoulders and chin. His wings were the same teal, outlined with golden yellow and a few artfully placed black dots. He adjusted the microscope with black and red striped legs that ended in two hooked claws. He must have been murmuring to himself because his black proboscis quivered, rolling and unrolling. His nectar brew sat almost untouched on the far side of the table with his safari hat.

Bowen took the box of paints from Flo to a back dining room out of sight. Flo left him to take the overnight bag upstairs to a room, so Tan was left alone. He sat awkwardly, trying to pretend to be invisible. As his new allies busied themselves, he heard a tired sigh and found the Mothling leaned back in his chair, running his claws through his fur. As if just noticing how much time had passed, the Mothling leaned across the table to suck up the nectar brew in a few long sips, then leaned back for a self-satisfied sigh, at which time, he noticed Tan.

“Oh! Haven’t – hic – seen you in here before, good sir!” Tan gave him a polite smile and wave, wishing he could disappear. The Mothling motioned him over. “Join me, why don’t you?” He continued in his unfamiliar accent while Tan awkwardly wandered over to the seat beside him. “I am Dr. Xebaxtiàn Tatterdemalion, at your service. Lead Professor of the Department of Mycology with the University of Newll. I have been tasked with finding the cause of our fungal blight of inordinate size. Have you ever seen spore prints beneath a microscope?”

“No,” Tan replied, glancing at the papers scattered on the table. They were field notes in a flamboyant hand from an inkwell pen. The professor slid the microscope over to face him.

“Old Bluey here can show you. Fascinating – these spores were collected from a giant Coprinopsis atramentaria, an inky cap mushroom. They liquefy their gills to distribute their spores, producing a black tar-like substance that rains down the stalk – not a pleasant experience for a sample four stories high!” Glancing into the eyepiece, Tan’s awareness faded to just the image before him. The ovular spores against the white-lit background reminded Tan of a pile of coffee beans or brown glass beads.

“Excuse me,” a high and lilting voice cut in – the orc from the bar had walked over, the fairy fluttering by her shoulder. “Can I see?”

“Of course, of course!” The doctor motioned for Tan to share and swayed a little drunkenly in his seat.

The green orc smiled, finally revealing her lower fangs which had been filed down to allow her mouth to fully close. Tan tried to politely smile back, the light revealing his gold fang which the orc eyed with interest. As he passed the microscope, she introduced them. “I’m Daisy. This is my partner, Enoki.” She looked shyly to the fairy. Enoki wore berry-dyed linen clothing similar to the plain shifts that most Susvedans wore. She had bumblebee fur in yellow and black which peeked from out the sides of her shirt from pale shoulders that ended in bumblebee wings pushed through slits in her shirt. A low buzz hummed from their rapid beat. Her close-cropped hair was a white blonde. Tan couldn’t help but stare a little. Even though more fairies were migrating into the city because of settler incursion on their ancestral lands, they were still small in number.

Xebaxtiàn interrupted his thoughts. “So, what brings you here Mister…?”

“Tan.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

He decided to open up a little. “I figured that if there is going to be an invasion of Northlanders, it is better to face it with others than alone. Those three invited me to join them here.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose that would be most tactically prudent. We’ll see what kind of showing they bring. I’m not entirely convinced they’re not sending an army of lawyers, given how prone their system is to over-litigation!”

Tan chuckled quietly. “I suppose.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” The Mothling might have been smiling back. It was hard to tell with a proboscis. Daisy and Enoki thanked him and found their way back to the bar to join Fang.

When Tan continued sitting quietly beside him, the professor continued. “Are you new to Susveda?”

“Kind of,” Tan started. “I used to live here a long time ago.”

“Welcome back,” he made the same possibly-smiling face.

“Thank you,” Tan said. He continued to feel awkward and a little scared of the social interaction after so long living with bats, birds, and deer. Even as a sky pirate, he had preferred to stand with Hernando at parties and let him talk, so that Tan wouldn’t embarrass himself, or bore other people with what interested him, since the few times he tried, people expressed such things in response. It left him unsure of what to do without Hernando in the room, and for that, he mourned him.

As if sensing he had somehow touched upon a sensitive topic, Dr. Tatterdemalion spun the microscope back to resume his studies.

Xiu emerged from the kitchen to check on their table. As she wheeled on Tan, he realized she had come with the sole intention of checking on him. “Can I get you something to drink? Something to eat? We have never-ending soup in the cauldron over the hearth,” she motioned to the fire at the end of the room.

“No, thank you,” Tan said.

“You look hungry. And tired. What can I get you?”

A little touched from her direct but sincere notice, Tan felt unsettled and unsure how to proceed. He considered her: an aged woman not far from the harbor and who looked rather storied. Perhaps she would have heard of vampires in her time or travels? He pretended to be thoughtful as he ran his tongue over his gold fang. Her gaze hardened.

“Ah, I see. Let me see what we have in the back,” and she returned without another word to the kitchen. Xebaxtiàn had no comment, and had perhaps not heard, so engrossed was he in his work.

Within the hour, more people came in. There was Eduardo, the squirrely man who came in clutching his paperboy hat and sat close to Fang at the bar. He had the same dark hair and warm skin as Hernando. Tan learned he was Trevistan, an intelligence operative for their group. Three orcish adventurers followed. They claimed a table closest to the never-ending soup and started to fill bowls drawn from backpacks. Tan learned their names were Rolan, Raptor, and Romulus – triplets. They lay their heavy weapons on the table and got a few glares from Xiu. There was a local elfish fisherman, Saladin, his druidic wife Trella, and daughter, Willow. It seemed he was donating use of his ship, The Green Lady, to their assembly, while his wife planned to stay firmly rooted on land.

More neighbors filtered in from the buildings neighboring the bar. There were journalists who sat ready to take notes. There were gardeners and farmers from the edge of the city where they grew the food for the city. They were talking amongst themselves about the need to move resources into the city for protection.

Fang helped serve people drinks and food, but it was clear she did so because she wanted to, as though the bar were her home and she welcomed them in. She clinked glasses with a farmer who turned out to also be her main brewer as they commiserated on the likely shortages to come should the invasion result in extended occupation.

When the room was nearly filled, Fang called out in welcome to start the collective meeting. “Welcome! Welcome. We are the Trevistan Liberation Front. We fight for global liberation for the masses, for the workers, for the regular people of this world, but especially the Trevistans, who have been facing the longest-standing occupation and devastating conditions. Northlandia is coming for us in Susveda. Welcome to the Resistance. I’m sorry no one else is coming to save us, so we have to save us. Thank you, everyone, for coming to organize.”

Xiu emerged from the kitchen and quietly set a tankard before Tan. He curiously pulled it close and found it full of blood. He casually set his hand over the top to obscure its identity. Xiu left to continue passing out drinks. A slow sip told Tan it was pig’s blood, dead a day by a farmer’s spell. He shuddered. He didn’t like drinking dead blood because all he could sense was the death, but he appreciated Xiu’s effort to make him feel welcome and fed. He drank it down as quick as he could to get it over with.

Bowen emerged from the back dining room to call for the children to join him in painting a mural on the dining room wall. They stampeded to the back with laughter and the doors were closed to the chaos that unfolded behind them. Flo helped chop up veggies at a table to keep the infinite soup going, brought by some attendees, her knife clunking through the carrot stalks.

People self-appointed roles and started moving around Tan. Dr. Tatterdemalion went to talk with the reporters, something about the fungal blight’s rate of spread. Xiu stood watchfully behind the orc triplets as they discussed defensive strategies, ready to make disapproving noises should she disagree. Daisy and Enoki joined Trella and a few other mothers in the room to discuss how schooling would continue through a potential occupation. Everyone was so concerned about how the occupation could affect their lives and neighbors, they came to take an active role in making sure everyone was taken care of.

There were a few moments of collective discussion, as when Fang called out in a reminder, “What do we do if we see Northlanders?”

“Make noise!” The room repeated in a chant.

“What do we do if we hear noise?”

“Run towards it!”

“Very good!” Fang laughed with them.

How they chose to support seemed to be up to the individual. Some, like Dr. Tatterdemalion, planned to stay away from noise because his delicate Mothling body would probably not handle any contact with invaders – even a sharp piece on clothing could pierce his fragile wings and threaten his ability to fly forever.

In contrast, the orcs were arguing with Flo and Xiu on the merits of strategic nonviolence and whether to keep the temperatures low to start with. “You can’t expect us to do nothing! They’re invading us!” Rolof growled at Xiu who stood her ground at face level with the seated man.

“I’m expecting you not to get us killed. They have almost infinite resources. A million more men to back them up. Mind Mastery mages. If you start swinging the moment they arrive, they’ll have you turning your weapons on your brothers in no time. It’s a simple spell for them. Don’t be foolish.”

“How else are we to fight them off? We can’t survive a war of attrition,” Romulus added.

“Not with that attitude,” Flo laughed. “But we have the home advantage. We can bring in resources. Ask for the druids’ help to grow crops in the parks. We have the land and the resources to keep fed as long as we can access the sea and keep the plants safe.”

“We’ve got to keep constant eyes on them,” Raptor said. “That way, we keep guerrilla advantage. We can choose how to respond rather than react. Share what we know across the city with terminals.” That point reminded them to check in with the journalists, who overwhelmingly were the ones more likely to have access to the newly-invented terminals. They connected through the mycelial, fungal network of the blight. The inventor was a local mechanic who had an interest in electricity and Northlandia’s lightbulb network. Instead of transmitting light through copper wires, the man found a way to transmit words through mushroom hyphae. Given that the terminals needed time to grow their connections to the network, even if he built more terminals by tomorrow, the Susvedans couldn’t use them in-network for at least a few days more.

Tan sat and listened to the conversations around him, unsure of where to step in and help. There were others like him who lingered in the middle and sat listening.

The Sentinels vowed to keep constant watch and report to their nearest terminal. They exchanged addresses to plan maps of where they would need to end patrol loops. The volunteer community members typically intervened in times of crisis or crime to help mitigate or end harm. During any occupation, they would be a great first line of defense, trained in de-escalation and nonviolence, to help prevent the invaders as much as possible from doing harm. The few who sat amongst the group were proud to display their symbol, the mother bear, embroidered upon their chests – ready to defend their fellow Susvedans.

When the broader strokes of their protection plans were organized, the journalists started to leave and spread the ideas and plans to the rest of Susveda and the other collectives that gathered based on shared affiliation to prepare.

Fang turned the conversation to the more immediate plans: in the morning, Fang, Flo, and Tan would travel to Marjean’s cottage in the forest beyond the mountain to help bring the necromancer and her familiar, Timothy, to Castle Belesti. Bowen was staying to help Xiu and keep close to Bowie. They planned to leave at sunrise. Tan felt a little guilty that he didn’t feel comfortable bringing up the fact that he could probably just fly to Marjean and be back well before an hour was spent. He was frightened to meet the necromancer alone in the woods, having heard not very encouraging things about necromancers who lived alone in the woods. So, they planned to walk together as quickly as possible.

Near the end of their gathering, two women entered and went to talk with Xiu. One was apparently blind, using what looked like a wizard’s staff as a cane. She was younger than the woman who helped her navigate around the tables, who had hair as orange as Flo’s. Tan learned her name was Maibel, from the Carriage Station. The blind woman looked as though she might have been running, her brown curls were long and wild. Her olive green dress was in disarray, and she carried a floral luggage backpack. Tan listened in while the rest of the conversations around him wandered towards amiable topics.

“Any rooms free for the night?” Maibel asked on behalf of the blind woman.

“Yes, we have one free,” Xiu shared, while she eyed the woman up and down. “Come from somewhere in a hurry?”

“Uh, the North,” she said with an apologetic smirk.

“Interesting,” Xiu narrowed her eyes. “And are you a friend of Susveda or of the North?”

“Definitely Susveda. It’s kind of a long story,” she said. “And probably not one I’d like to trust to many people, as you can understand.”

“Yes,” Xiu replied. “Well then, first room on the right.” She gestured up the stairs.

“What do I owe you?” The woman asked.

Xiu chuckled. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Raisa.”

“Raisa, your money’s been no good here since the moment our people’s revolution rose up and claimed power over these parts. We give. We share what we have. I have a room with a bed. You need a room with a bed. We’ll figure out how long you want to stay there so long as you behave yourself. If you want to stay here in Susveda, I can get you connected with our housing committee that helps match people to availability. Everyone is welcome in Susveda as long as you do your best to help and take care of one another.”

“I’d heard rumors,” Raisa reacted. “I didn’t really think they were true. So you really did overthrow capitalism,” she said it with fascination.

“For the most part,” Xiu shrugged. “There are a few old stogies around town who still charge for their services or insist on exchanging gold for property. The rest is relationship-based. We work things out. We trade. We make plans with our nearest distribution center if we need something.”

“Tan,” Fang called and interrupted. “We’re going to get ready for the day tomorrow, are you staying with us for the night?”

“Um,” fear flashed in his chest at the thought of sleeping overnight in a strange space with people he’d just met. “I have a place nearby for the night. I’ll meet you at the eastern road at sunrise.”

“Alright,” she replied. Then, Bowen released the children. They came screaming and yelling from their containment chamber covered in paint splatters and in general disarray. Bowen’s apron was covered in paints, as was his hair, inexplicably.

“I think it’s really beautiful,” Bowen shared with the group. “A little abstract for my liking, but I’ve added some representational elements.”

The children insisted everyone come see the great unveiling, and so the group stood and came as a together to the dining room where they admired the splattered and finger-painted mural of everything the children painted in their hour together upon the wall. Bowen had painted a frame of ivy in a less-practiced hand than Flo’s paintings. She applauded his effort.

With a little bit of hesitance, Tan joined the people peeling off from the gathering to leave with their children for the night, wishing the group farewell. He stepped outside and pulled his linen scarf back over his head and face for his spores – and to feel more covered. It was dark and the stars were shining overhead. He left in a hurry, and as covertly as possible, peeled off into an alley beside the next building. There, he transformed into his bat form and took off into the night.

He went to the local vampire bat colony in a cave set into the mountain. Over the last year, it had been a place of healing and rest. It was a relief from all the pressures of being human. While Tan was in bat form, all that mattered was his next meal, his meaningless and yet enamoring relationships with his fellow bats. Any conversation with the other bats was so simple as to require no thought at all; in fact, Tan slipped into an altered state with them in his communication, so present was he in his body. “Hungry!”, ”Share!”, ”Stop!”, ”Angry!”, “Happy!”, “Cozy.” He loved cozy.

Cuddling up with the other fluffy bats, warming together in the cold, dank, dark of the cave made him feel part of something bigger than himself. They were a colony. Each was responsible for the other. Tan was occasionally offered blood, as bat colonies share their meals with members who were unsuccessful in their hunt, knowing if their fortunes changed, others would have their back. The bats grieved each loss and celebrated each birth together. Mothers shared in the duty of pup-rearing, nursing any hungry pups around, so that other resting mothers slept most soundly. Soft and warm, resting and at peace together. The grooming was also satisfying: the closeness of touch, the opportunity for care to be both given and received. Tan found the physical touch of the animals soothing and reparative while his soul grieved.

Overnight, the bats came in and out of the cave to hunt. Waves of excitement, anticipation, and frustration upon waking flowed through the collective; they cried out in rounds of “Hungry!”, “Sleepy!”, “Noisy!”, “Follow!” Tan did not like taking blood from other creatures the way the vampire bats did. It felt like violating robbery in the dark of night. They crept up the bodies of sleeping cattle, used razor-sharp fangs to make a cut in the flesh, before lapping up the blood. Their saliva encouraged bleeding while Tan’s ceased it. The fact that the blood tasted good increased the guilt the one time he had tried it. He knew the cow would be fine. A mild itch in the morning or a minor infection would be the worst the cow would get from him. He bemoaned the fact that vampires couldn’t eat fruits and vegetables. He had tried once. It didn’t go well.

As he hung from the cave ceiling, Tan considered his day with the TLF, the new potential friends and allies he’d met. There was both opportunity and fear. Potential for loss in the future. Impending doom from the threat of invasion. Yet, when he thought about the journey to the witch’s cottage in the morning, the only thing that Tan could feel was excitement. It had been a long time since Tan was part of a crew on a mission to help, and he wanted to help with his immortal time, even if it was a curse and reminder of the excessive evil of the Count. He snuggled into the bat beside him, the soft, warm fluff against his face. Perhaps, just maybe, everything could be okay someday, despite the horrors.

Author’s Note: This one was a hard one. I had a lot to say and not a lot of space to say it, so I’m sorry there’s a bit of tell over show. This one is a building block to the start of the character drama and lore so I’m excited about future chapters bringing that to the forefront. Keep safe, get loud, and keep up the good fight. Love from Minneapolis ❤

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