A week has passed.
Gottlieb sits in the observatory, watching the emptiness of space move on by, past the windows. Starlight blurs into the depths of his vision, their pinprick lights drifting off into the distance, as if an endless canvas were being rushed past his vision.
The sun is out again. It’s been out for a couple days now, actually.
Now, obviously, this is an impossibility. The sun can’t just… go out, right? It’s not like a light bulb that can just be flicked on or off at the whim of some god, right? It’s a behemoth, gargantuan mass of chemical reactions.
A rumble moves through the station.
Gottlieb looks down at his hands. Then again, the same could be said for himself, right?
— He flexes his fingers, watching the muscles in his forearm move.
“Nice…” mutters the man to himself.
If he can change because of the odd, magical system that governs this universe, his mind, his body… If Kai can ‘come to life’ and the station can change its complex electrical mechanisms because of this very same system… If the entire world itself can be affected by it then… why not the sun too?
His eyes return to the empty darkness where no stars reside.
The spot where the sun should be is simply a solid, black, void through which nothing can be seen. Its presence is only betrayed by the perfectly spherical outline of stars that lie behind it, aeons off into the distance.
But what does this mean? What possible reason could there be for something like this to be happening?
At least with the station and himself, it all sort of makes sense, when viewed in the context of what he now knows. But the sun… he doesn’t know anything about it, or the context that could be behind it.
Is this something that has always been happening here, in this other universe?
Or is this something relating to the cosmic-event that had brought him here?
Wasn’t that something about a black-hole?
The man rubs the back of his head, thinking.
He doesn’t find any clear thoughts, however.
— Something shuffles down on the other side of the door. Probably another ‘wild’ monster that has spawned aboard the station.
Gottlieb sucks his teeth and grabs the rifle, the butt of which is blunted and scarred from previous bashings. Whenever the sun goes out, the wild monster spawns go crazy.
He walks towards the door.
| [Azimuth] |
Azimuth sits in the room, back at the city, at the palace. She still isn’t really convinced that she belongs here. But maybe she does?
After everything that’s happened… it’s hard to deny.
Her hand presses itself against a window. The pane is ice-cold, despite the generous fire burning in the luxurious chamber that she has been given. The world on the other side of it is dark. Only soft, glowing flames from lanterns and the occasional spell, illuminate the city below. She doesn’t know if it’s nighttime or daytime, really. The darkness remains always the same.
She rests her forehead against the glass, next to her hand.
Weeks ago, she had set out to head on her mother’s wishes to join some magical academy of some kind. The fact that she doesn’t really have any specific magical talents, or at least, hadn’t had, wasn’t a factor then in this decision that was made for her.
She herself had just wanted to stay a chicken farmer, back home. It was a comfortable life.
But maybe her mother had seen whatever this is coming. With the sun’s increasing sporadic failures and the nights growing longer and colder, chicken farming may not be the best field for the future.
She thinks so, though. In the darkness, bugs thrive and chickens eat bugs. Even if the crops all fail because of the cold, they can still feed the chickens with the bugs and then eat them.
Azimuth sighs.
That’s all irrelevant now. Now she has to undergo training under some fancy knights.
The orc rubs the back of her head.
Honestly, she doesn’t know what she wants anymore. Chicken farming was always her passion. But… there is something to be said for comfort, for luxury. She’s never had a taste for it before, having never had a taste of it.
She looks back over her shoulder, towards the large, warm bed and the fireplace, full of wood, next to a table, full of food.
— It’s a very stark contrast to the cold night outside of these walls.
She doubts they’ll let her keep chickens in the palace.
Azimuth’s fingers tap against the glass.
…Or maybe they will?
| [The Goblin-King] |
The long dark continues to hang over our heads, drowning us in witch-water.
I stare out across the lands, but I see nothing. The starlight, visible above our heads like the hungry eyes of a thousand spiders, crawling down from their nests to eat us whole, does little to make visible the way.
Pathfinders lead us, strong torches held in their long arms, as they wander the trails.
I see their sparse glows off in the distance. They spread out like the roots of a tree, feeling, touching, sensing to let us know where we might find water and food and shelter from the biting cold.
We have food to spare and water is present, if not abundant. But warmth is difficult. We must constantly stop to make fires.
Voices cry out, asking to let us stop and hide in the forests, in the caves, where we may make large, strong fires until the dark recedes and the light returns.
— But we can not wait for this. It might happen in a minute. It might be a week from now.
A goblin mother grovels at my feet, her blue welp held tightly against her breast.
There is nothing for me to offer her.
We must march. Or the sky-light will surely see our laze and punish us.
I lift my finger, pointing towards the west.
“We will march towards the west,” I order. “The sun has gone there to sleep. We will find it.”
The warband stops, a loud, shrill whistling carrying out towards the night. Then more goblins whistle, carrying the command all the way to the distant lights of the pathfinders. Their orange flames all begin to turn around, returning to us.
‘The places where the sun sleeps’…?
I repeat the phrase in my mind.
As king, I am stronger than all of the others, smarter, wiser. I know this to be a lie.
— But they believe it.
The march turns, moving towards the west. A hand places itself on my shoulder and I look back towards the Wood-mother, who nods to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the goblin woman falls behind, vanishing into the long dark.
It swallows her and her wails.
| [Meridian] |
Meridian winces as he moves.
A body as old as his isn’t meant to survive, period, let alone as long and as much as he has.
It took a while, but eventually, fortunately, he was pulled out of the rubble.
He looks down at the chain, bound around his wrists.
— Unfortunately, the guardsmen who had done so had recognized him and brought him to the palace.
The old man sighs, wishing that he was still at his lighthouse. But it belongs to the sea, now.
The door of the room that he has been locked in for days now opens.
Meridian lifts his gaze, looking as a troop of soldiers line the hallway, two of them walking into the room, before a man in kingly regalia steps past them.
“Brother,” greets Meridian, looking at the old husk of a man standing before himself. His brother, the man who had, in the insurrection, taken the throne as his own.
There is a loud thud as a packet is dropped to the table.
Meridian looks down at the bundle, the very same one that he had been carrying in secret, beneath his rope. It is covered in his blood and torn. But inside are the same documents that had always been there.
It is paperwork, proving his lineage and blood, proving that he has a right to the throne.
He looks back up towards the king.
“Meridian,” hisses the king, narrowing his eyes in anger. He looks over his shoulder. “Close the door.”
The guardsmen shut the door.
Meridian looks at his brother.
“So… how’s the family?” asks the old lighthouse keeper.
| [Gottlieb] |
Gottlieb breaks off half of his nutri-bar, sliding it over to Grunheide.
“Thanks,” says the goblin, taking it and nibbling on it. She’s gotten much better at talking with a little practice and a little help from his side.
He nods, heading over to the hatch in the corner of the room. Carefully lifting it up, he throws the other half of the nutri-bar down into it.
— The trapped slime lashes out, catching it immediately and he slams the hatch back shut.
“Really gotta figure something out about this thing one day,” he says, sighing and shaking his head.
“Freeze it?” suggests Grunheide.
Gottlieb nods, sitting down in his chair. He kicks his feet back up onto the console and twiddles his thumbs, waiting for something to happen.
His eyes wander to Kai’s light. He hasn’t spoken to the AI since the lights had gone out in days now.
“— Not a bad idea,” replies the man. “It might be harder to lure into the tubes than the other one, though.” He rubs his chin, stroking his short, stubble beard that has been growing for a while now. He wonders if he should feel bad about that ooze, he froze?
Gottlieb stares for a while.
Nah.
It’s probably fine. She’s frozen, so it’s not like she can feel anything. Technically, she should be thanking him, right?
Gottlieb nods.
It makes sense to him.
“It’s boring.”
“Yup,” replies Gottlieb. “Welcome to space,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a real drag. Don’t believe the marketing.”
“…Huh?”
“Nevermind,” sighs Gottlieb, shaking his head. “So…” It’s quiet for a time. “What’s being a goblin like?”
Grunheide shrugs.
“Yeah. I figured,” he replies, staring back towards the blank monitor.
The station hums quietly on in the background.
Space is the worst.
A week has passed.
Gottlieb sits in the observatory, watching the emptiness of space move on by, past the windows. Starlight blurs into the depths of his vision, their pinprick lights drifting off into the distance, as if an endless canvas were being rushed past his vision.
The sun is out again. It’s been out for a couple days now, actually.
Now, obviously, this is an impossibility. The sun can’t just… go out, right? It’s not like a light bulb that can just be flicked on or off at the whim of some god, right? It’s a behemoth, gargantuan mass of chemical reactions.
A rumble moves through the station.
Gottlieb looks down at his hands. Then again, the same could be said for himself, right?
— He flexes his fingers, watching the muscles in his forearm move.
“Nice…” mutters the man to himself.
If he can change because of the odd, magical system that governs this universe, his mind, his body… If Kai can ‘come to life’ and the station can change its complex electrical mechanisms because of this very same system… If the entire world itself can be affected by it then… why not the sun too?
His eyes return to the empty darkness where no stars reside.
The spot where the sun should be is simply a solid, black, void through which nothing can be seen. Its presence is only betrayed by the perfectly spherical outline of stars that lie behind it, aeons off into the distance.
But what does this mean? What possible reason could there be for something like this to be happening?
At least with the station and himself, it all sort of makes sense, when viewed in the context of what he now knows. But the sun… he doesn’t know anything about it, or the context that could be behind it.
Is this something that has always been happening here, in this other universe?
Or is this something relating to the cosmic-event that had brought him here?
Wasn’t that something about a black-hole?
The man rubs the back of his head, thinking.
He doesn’t find any clear thoughts, however.
— Something shuffles down on the other side of the door. Probably another ‘wild’ monster that has spawned aboard the station.
Gottlieb sucks his teeth and grabs the rifle, the butt of which is blunted and scarred from previous bashings. Whenever the sun goes out, the wild monster spawns go crazy.
He walks towards the door.
| [Azimuth] |
Azimuth sits in the room, back at the city, at the palace. She still isn’t really convinced that she belongs here. But maybe she does?
After everything that’s happened… it’s hard to deny.
Her hand presses itself against a window. The pane is ice-cold, despite the generous fire burning in the luxurious chamber that she has been given. The world on the other side of it is dark. Only soft, glowing flames from lanterns and the occasional spell, illuminate the city below. She doesn’t know if it’s nighttime or daytime, really. The darkness remains always the same.
She rests her forehead against the glass, next to her hand.
Weeks ago, she had set out to head on her mother’s wishes to join some magical academy of some kind. The fact that she doesn’t really have any specific magical talents, or at least, hadn’t had, wasn’t a factor then in this decision that was made for her.
She herself had just wanted to stay a chicken farmer, back home. It was a comfortable life.
But maybe her mother had seen whatever this is coming. With the sun’s increasing sporadic failures and the nights growing longer and colder, chicken farming may not be the best field for the future.
She thinks so, though. In the darkness, bugs thrive and chickens eat bugs. Even if the crops all fail because of the cold, they can still feed the chickens with the bugs and then eat them.
Azimuth sighs.
That’s all irrelevant now. Now she has to undergo training under some fancy knights.
The orc rubs the back of her head.
Honestly, she doesn’t know what she wants anymore. Chicken farming was always her passion. But… there is something to be said for comfort, for luxury. She’s never had a taste for it before, having never had a taste of it.
She looks back over her shoulder, towards the large, warm bed and the fireplace, full of wood, next to a table, full of food.
— It’s a very stark contrast to the cold night outside of these walls.
She doubts they’ll let her keep chickens in the palace.
Azimuth’s fingers tap against the glass.
…Or maybe they will?
| [The Goblin-King] |
The long dark continues to hang over our heads, drowning us in witch-water.
I stare out across the lands, but I see nothing. The starlight, visible above our heads like the hungry eyes of a thousand spiders, crawling down from their nests to eat us whole, does little to make visible the way.
Pathfinders lead us, strong torches held in their long arms, as they wander the trails.
I see their sparse glows off in the distance. They spread out like the roots of a tree, feeling, touching, sensing to let us know where we might find water and food and shelter from the biting cold.
We have food to spare and water is present, if not abundant. But warmth is difficult. We must constantly stop to make fires.
Voices cry out, asking to let us stop and hide in the forests, in the caves, where we may make large, strong fires until the dark recedes and the light returns.
— But we can not wait for this. It might happen in a minute. It might be a week from now.
A goblin mother grovels at my feet, her blue welp held tightly against her breast.
There is nothing for me to offer her.
We must march. Or the sky-light will surely see our laze and punish us.
I lift my finger, pointing towards the west.
“We will march towards the west,” I order. “The sun has gone there to sleep. We will find it.”
The warband stops, a loud, shrill whistling carrying out towards the night. Then more goblins whistle, carrying the command all the way to the distant lights of the pathfinders. Their orange flames all begin to turn around, returning to us.
‘The places where the sun sleeps’…?
I repeat the phrase in my mind.
As king, I am stronger than all of the others, smarter, wiser. I know this to be a lie.
— But they believe it.
The march turns, moving towards the west. A hand places itself on my shoulder and I look back towards the Wood-mother, who nods to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the goblin woman falls behind, vanishing into the long dark.
It swallows her and her wails.
| [Meridian] |
Meridian winces as he moves.
A body as old as his isn’t meant to survive, period, let alone as long and as much as he has.
It took a while, but eventually, fortunately, he was pulled out of the rubble.
He looks down at the chain, bound around his wrists.
— Unfortunately, the guardsmen who had done so had recognized him and brought him to the palace.
The old man sighs, wishing that he was still at his lighthouse. But it belongs to the sea, now.
The door of the room that he has been locked in for days now opens.
Meridian lifts his gaze, looking as a troop of soldiers line the hallway, two of them walking into the room, before a man in kingly regalia steps past them.
“Brother,” greets Meridian, looking at the old husk of a man standing before himself. His brother, the man who had, in the insurrection, taken the throne as his own.
There is a loud thud as a packet is dropped to the table.
Meridian looks down at the bundle, the very same one that he had been carrying in secret, beneath his rope. It is covered in his blood and torn. But inside are the same documents that had always been there.
It is paperwork, proving his lineage and blood, proving that he has a right to the throne.
He looks back up towards the king.
“Meridian,” hisses the king, narrowing his eyes in anger. He looks over his shoulder. “Close the door.”
The guardsmen shut the door.
Meridian looks at his brother.
“So… how’s the family?” asks the old lighthouse keeper.
| [Gottlieb] |
Gottlieb breaks off half of his nutri-bar, sliding it over to Grunheide.
“Thanks,” says the goblin, taking it and nibbling on it. She’s gotten much better at talking with a little practice and a little help from his side.
He nods, heading over to the hatch in the corner of the room. Carefully lifting it up, he throws the other half of the nutri-bar down into it.
— The trapped slime lashes out, catching it immediately and he slams the hatch back shut.
“Really gotta figure something out about this thing one day,” he says, sighing and shaking his head.
“Freeze it?” suggests Grunheide.
Gottlieb nods, sitting down in his chair. He kicks his feet back up onto the console and twiddles his thumbs, waiting for something to happen.
His eyes wander to Kai’s light. He hasn’t spoken to the AI since the lights had gone out in days now.
“— Not a bad idea,” replies the man. “It might be harder to lure into the tubes than the other one, though.” He rubs his chin, stroking his short, stubble beard that has been growing for a while now. He wonders if he should feel bad about that ooze, he froze?
Gottlieb stares for a while.
Nah.
It’s probably fine. She’s frozen, so it’s not like she can feel anything. Technically, she should be thanking him, right?
Gottlieb nods.
It makes sense to him.
“It’s boring.”
“Yup,” replies Gottlieb. “Welcome to space,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a real drag. Don’t believe the marketing.”
“…Huh?”
“Nevermind,” sighs Gottlieb, shaking his head. “So…” It’s quiet for a time. “What’s being a goblin like?”
Grunheide shrugs.
“Yeah. I figured,” he replies, staring back towards the blank monitor.
The station hums quietly on in the background.
Space is the worst.
