February 9th, 2034. Takoda Household.
He would kill today. He had killed yesterday, and he would kill tomorrow- maybe, at least, he wasn’t totally sure if his youngest had an event that day. Henry Takoda did not consider himself a bad man, despite his self-admitted killing (and no, he was not enough of a fool to call it some euphemism, he did not hunt, he did not trap, catch, or any other such term. He was a killer). He was a veteran, having joined somewhat young- in his early 20’s, he had patrolled for his country in all the so-commonly glorified fashions, he had disliked the Kaskaidans (not hated, which was perhaps a minor abnormality, most either didn’t care or hated- but he digressed), he had retired, and as was generally expected he had sought labor in his home province.
What had not happened was what had been supposed to happen- he had not found good employment, been able to sustain his family, so on and so forth. Instead he and his wife had been forced to work off what could be scrounged, the cracks that they cling to for warmth. He had built his home, with materials scavenged from what he could find. He had raised three children, and gone many days without food so that they could go with. He had pawned rewards and medals, for what little that had gotten him.
They had stabilized somewhat, now- he had been able to send all three to a good school thanks to the car (run down and unreliable as it was) he had bartered for through his labor, but they were not secure. They would not be secure unless he put in as much effort as he could, every day. And so, he grasped his hand around his rifle.
And, as he stood in his home and stared at the rifle in his hand- his rifle, as it were, he stood as a killer. He had not killed people, for the narrow description of such that was often used, and he clung to that fact like a burial shroud, but he had killed the natives of this land. The Teustredians were not as humanoid as the Kromen or Komodren, in the sense that they had not integrated as well, but they were certainly the natives of the land, and he had certainly killed them. He had scavenged them, in fact, taken their meat and sold it to the highest bidder- some rich bastard from Arcadie, if he recalled correctly. He had made something of a trade of it, even, and as he picked up his rifle, gave a quick wave to his wife, and left the safety of his home, he knew that the trade would continue today.
What had not happened was what had been supposed to happen- he had not found good employment, been able to sustain his family, so on and so forth. Instead he and his wife had been forced to work off what could be scrounged, the cracks that they cling to for warmth. He had built his home, with materials scavenged from what he could find. He had raised three children, and gone many days without food so that they could go with. He had pawned rewards and medals, for what little that had gotten him.
They had stabilized somewhat, now- he had been able to send all three to a good school thanks to the car (run down and unreliable as it was) he had bartered for through his labor, but they were not secure. They would not be secure unless he put in as much effort as he could, every day. And so, he grasped his hand around his rifle.
And, as he stood in his home and stared at the rifle in his hand- his rifle, as it were, he stood as a killer. He had not killed people, for the narrow description of such that was often used, and he clung to that fact like a burial shroud, but he had killed the natives of this land. The Teustredians were not as humanoid as the Kromen or Komodren, in the sense that they had not integrated as well, but they were certainly the natives of the land, and he had certainly killed them. He had scavenged them, in fact, taken their meat and sold it to the highest bidder- some rich bastard from Arcadie, if he recalled correctly. He had made something of a trade of it, even, and as he picked up his rifle, gave a quick wave to his wife, and left the safety of his home, he knew that the trade would continue today.
North Teustredia, Confederate States of Anagonia
February 9th, 2034. Teustredian Swamp, near the Tues River
There was an intimacy to the skinning of a corpse, he had found. The one he had killed was large, though not as large as his best days. It had been male, he believed, and it had been wearing primitive clothing when the round of his rifle had entered its skull. He had waited, as he often did, for 20 minutes, and when none had come to check upon its death, he had dragged it with him to that same shoddy car. He had fitted it in the plastic-lined trunk, and he had given it to his little workshop away from home. Henry did not make the self-comparison to a butcher, for one did not butcher a man, despite his differing form.
Scales came off, muscles were torn and removed, a litany of cutting and separating that almost reminded him of his days in the military putting together (and taking apart) certain weapon systems. As usual he would put the scales to the side, where they would hopefully sink into the swamp and assist in some small way to repaying his debt. He came to the skin, now, and……
He did not record, mentally, what occurred next- merely that the meat had been acquired, sealed and stored resolutely, and that a man had died for such to occur.
Scales came off, muscles were torn and removed, a litany of cutting and separating that almost reminded him of his days in the military putting together (and taking apart) certain weapon systems. As usual he would put the scales to the side, where they would hopefully sink into the swamp and assist in some small way to repaying his debt. He came to the skin, now, and……
He did not record, mentally, what occurred next- merely that the meat had been acquired, sealed and stored resolutely, and that a man had died for such to occur.
North Teustredia, Confederate States of Anagonia
February 9th, 2034. Takoda Household.
There was a knock on his door. This, in and of itself, was unusual- he was not a commonly visited man, and he knew of no appointments or play-dates which he had agreed to. He peeked an eye out of the locked door- and his confusion grew. There were two men, certainly not inhabitants of the town, and they wore what were perhaps the most obvious uniforms one could assign to a “suit” (as the common phrasing was) that could ever exist. Of half a mind to simply leave the door closed, he was struck suddenly by a fear he had not felt in decades as one held up a scale. It was bloodied, it was familiar- he had been sloppy he had left it behind how had they found it- He threw the door open, gave a quick gesture of dismissal to his wife, and stomped outside to speak to the interlopers.
He moved to speak first- but the taller of the two raised his hand in a military gesture, one demanding silence, and the smaller took the opportunity to speak. It was when he spoke that he knew, without a doubt, these were not natives to Anagonia, for their voices were robotic, almost mocking in the way they spoke so clearly.
”Mr. Takoda, yes?”
“It is a pleasure to have this opportunity to speak. We have a certain proposition in relation to your recent activities which we believe would be… most favorable, for both parties. If you would not mind, we would love to speak in private about the matter.”
He almost put his foot down, were it not for the taller flashing a briefcase, and a dull glint of green showing itself within such. Against his better judgment, they moved up the stairs- and what he saw offered something to seize, and something he would grasp upon.
He would, indeed, kill tomorrow.
He moved to speak first- but the taller of the two raised his hand in a military gesture, one demanding silence, and the smaller took the opportunity to speak. It was when he spoke that he knew, without a doubt, these were not natives to Anagonia, for their voices were robotic, almost mocking in the way they spoke so clearly.
”Mr. Takoda, yes?”
“It is a pleasure to have this opportunity to speak. We have a certain proposition in relation to your recent activities which we believe would be… most favorable, for both parties. If you would not mind, we would love to speak in private about the matter.”
He almost put his foot down, were it not for the taller flashing a briefcase, and a dull glint of green showing itself within such. Against his better judgment, they moved up the stairs- and what he saw offered something to seize, and something he would grasp upon.
He would, indeed, kill tomorrow.
Deputy Sheriff Marcus Hayes
Teusberg, Territory of North Teustredia
February 10th, 108 AUR
Hayes was born and raised in Teusberg, a small town nestled along the banks of the ancient Teus River in the Territory of North Teustredia. The Teus River was not merely a waterway; it was a symbol of life and vitality for the people of North Teustredia. Its waters sustained generations of fishermen, farmers, and traders who relied on its bounty for their livelihoods. As one of the four rivers that converged to form the mighty Teusong River, the Teus River played a crucial role in shaping the landscape of Northern Anagonia. Its waters, along with those of its sister rivers, nurtured the lush wetlands of the Teustredian Delta, creating a haven for diverse wildlife and serving as a sanctuary for the native Teustredians. For centuries, the delta had stood as a testament to the harmonious coexistence between humans and nature, a delicate balance that Deputy Sheriff Marcus Hayes was sworn to protect.
Growing up in a close-knit community, he developed a deep respect for the traditions and beliefs of the native Teustredians, the semi-sentient catfish folk who inhabited the region alongside humans. Marcus often spent his childhood days exploring the banks of the Tues River, marveling at the intricate network of waterways that crisscrossed the landscape. He would listen with rapt attention as the elders of his village shared stories of ancient alliances forged between humans and Teustredians, tales of mutual respect and cooperation that had endured for centuries.
As he grew older, Marcus came to understand the significance of these stories, realizing that the bond between humans and Teustredians was not just a myth but a fundamental truth woven into the fabric of their shared history. He witnessed firsthand the symbiotic relationship between the two communities, observing how they worked together to protect and preserve the delicate balance of the Teustredian Delta. It was because of this joint proactive culture that after the Great War, Anagonia would proclaim the Teustredian Delta a natural wonder and protected ecological habitat.
It was this profound sense of connection to the land and its inhabitants that inspired Marcus to pursue a career in law enforcement. He saw it as his duty not only to uphold the laws of the land but also to honor the sacred bond between humans and Teustredians, to ensure that their way of life endured for generations to come. As Deputy Sheriff of North Teustredia, Marcus Hayes carried this responsibility with pride, knowing that the fate of his people and the future of the delta rested in his hands. He, along with his small Military Police detachment assigned to the Territory, were granted the role of preservers and protectors of natures wonders that had been born in North Teustredia.
Before joining the Military Police, Marcus served in the local volunteer rescue squad, where he honed his skills in crisis management and emergency response. His dedication to public service led him to pursue a career in law enforcement, eventually earning him the position of Deputy Sheriff for North Teustredia. It was during his time in the rescue squad that Marcus first encountered the challenges faced by the Teustredian community. He witnessed firsthand the devastating effects of natural disasters and environmental degradation on their way of life, and he saw how quickly tensions could escalate between humans and Teustredians in times of crisis.
These experiences only deepened Marcus's resolve to protect the interests of both communities and ensure that justice was served equitably. He knew that as Deputy Sheriff, he would be uniquely positioned to bridge the gap between humans and Teustredians, to foster understanding and cooperation in the face of adversity. With his background in emergency response and his profound respect for the traditions of the Teustredians, Marcus felt capable of confronting those challenges. However, a new and insidious threat had emerged: poaching.
The illegal hunting and exploitation of the Teustredians for their unique organs and resources threatened to plunge North Teustredia into turmoil. Poachers, driven by greed and disregard for the lives of the catfish folk, sought to profit from the sale of their organs and other valuable parts, disregarding the sanctity of their existence and the ancient bonds of respect that had long existed between humans and Teustredians. Locals believed that the poachers came from all across Esvanovia, recalling both individuals matching Neo Korean and Kaskadian description, along with several other notable peoples. Reports gathered indicated that the poachers were selling valuable body parts, organs, extremities, and other parts of the catfish folk for medicinal and food resources overseas.
Marcus understood the gravity of the situation. The discovery of such despicable acts had already began to shatter the fragile peace between Anagonians and Teustredians and threatened to further sow seeds of mistrust and resentment that could fester for generations to come. The very fabric of their society was at risk of being torn apart by the greed and avarice of a few individuals. Tensions simmered beneath the surface, and Marcus knew that if swift action was not taken, the consequences could be catastrophic. The once harmonious coexistence between humans and Teustredians now hung in the balance, and it was up to him to restore order and justice before irreparable damage was done.
As Deputy Sheriff Marcus Hayes drove along the state road that cut through the heart of North Teustredia, his thoughts were consumed by the weight of the task that lay before him. The rhythmic hum of the engine provided a steady backdrop to his contemplation as he navigated the winding path, flanked by dense forests on either side. The events of recent days weighed heavily on his mind, the discovery of poachers preying on the Teustredians casting a dark shadow over the once peaceful landscape. As he gazed out at the serene beauty of the Teustredian Delta stretching out in the distance, Marcus couldn't shake the feeling of urgency that gripped him.
As he drove, Marcus's mind raced with possibilities, considering every angle and weighing the potential consequences of his actions. The road stretched out before him, winding its way through the picturesque landscape, a metaphor for the twists and turns of the investigation ongoing. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, Marcus remained resolute in his determination to seek out the truth and restore peace to his beloved North Teustredia. With each mile marker passed, he drew closer to uncovering the secrets hidden within the delta and forging a path toward reconciliation between humans and Teustredians. The journey was far from over, but Marcus was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
So he hoped. They had already found several Teustredian bodies within the last week. The poachers were becoming more bold, striking with impunity under the cover of darkness. Marcus felt the weight of his limitations keenly; his small team stretched thin, unable to cover the vast expanse of the territory effectively. Yet, despite the odds stacked against him, Marcus refused to succumb to despair. He knew that he couldn't confront the poachers directly with his current resources, but he also understood that there were other avenues to pursue. As he continued down the state road, Marcus's mind raced with strategies and possibilities, searching for a way to outmaneuver the poachers and bring them to justice without further endangering the Teustredian community.
That and, hopefully, permanently sealing off all avenues for future poaching. This, however, he felt would be an almost insurmountable challenge.
North Teustredia, Confederate States of Anagonia
February 9th, 2034. Neo-Korean Temporary Military Base.
At a table whose length was excessive to the utmost degree, there sat a series of men- all of whom, to one degree or another, were members of the CIS, Ground Forces, and Airforce- alike in one matter, the possession of a most vicious hunger. The men who comprised this table were not the highest, nor the most influential in the planning of the campaign, but they were certainly the most egotistical, the most entrenched in the self importance dragged behind them like a burial shroud.
The room they sat within had walls of a deep crimson, electric lighting turned off aside from the exception of a chandelier and candles set to provide the atmosphere of what was almost turning into a facsimile of a restaurant aping at fanciness. The men had been chatting for a while, wine of a crimson not dissimilar to the walls flowing eagerly into their cups- though the discussion had finally meandered to the topic of proper eating, by the time their hungers were rewarded.
In the midst of one of the CISmen starting a rousing discussion on who should host the next of these meetings, a colossal cart was rolled into the room- and upon it were many plates of fine Kaolinite, spread across the table by those who had been drafted into the role from their more conventional service in any of the organizations previously listed. Plates of fine pastries and comestibles were spread about- and yet a conspicuous lack of meat could be noted, and the largest of the plates went yet unrevealed. Before questions could be raised, the man at the head of the table, the eldest of them all, rose to speak.
”Gentlemen. I know we have waited long for a meal this tonight- and I promise that the reward shall be well worth it, but before we begin-“
A small sigh went through the room, although none could pinpoint its originating point- the man continued.
”I would like to simply thank our dear tool, one Mr. Henry Takoda, and all his poacher ilk- for the provision of this most wonderful meal, and the most wonderful new tastes we have been able to expand our palettes with. With my rambling done, let us partake!”
A gasp of astonishment went through the room as, in the wake of his pronouncement, the largest plate was revealed in full- piles and piles of Teustredian meat, cooked and broiled to flaked perfection, garnished with the finest materials available to the gathering. As the many men of the table dug in, all would be satisfied- and all would be preparing for another day of such wonderful feasting tomorrow, and the day after such, and the day after such, and the day after such- until this little vacation ended with things going as they had been planned.
The room they sat within had walls of a deep crimson, electric lighting turned off aside from the exception of a chandelier and candles set to provide the atmosphere of what was almost turning into a facsimile of a restaurant aping at fanciness. The men had been chatting for a while, wine of a crimson not dissimilar to the walls flowing eagerly into their cups- though the discussion had finally meandered to the topic of proper eating, by the time their hungers were rewarded.
In the midst of one of the CISmen starting a rousing discussion on who should host the next of these meetings, a colossal cart was rolled into the room- and upon it were many plates of fine Kaolinite, spread across the table by those who had been drafted into the role from their more conventional service in any of the organizations previously listed. Plates of fine pastries and comestibles were spread about- and yet a conspicuous lack of meat could be noted, and the largest of the plates went yet unrevealed. Before questions could be raised, the man at the head of the table, the eldest of them all, rose to speak.
”Gentlemen. I know we have waited long for a meal this tonight- and I promise that the reward shall be well worth it, but before we begin-“
A small sigh went through the room, although none could pinpoint its originating point- the man continued.
”I would like to simply thank our dear tool, one Mr. Henry Takoda, and all his poacher ilk- for the provision of this most wonderful meal, and the most wonderful new tastes we have been able to expand our palettes with. With my rambling done, let us partake!”
A gasp of astonishment went through the room as, in the wake of his pronouncement, the largest plate was revealed in full- piles and piles of Teustredian meat, cooked and broiled to flaked perfection, garnished with the finest materials available to the gathering. As the many men of the table dug in, all would be satisfied- and all would be preparing for another day of such wonderful feasting tomorrow, and the day after such, and the day after such, and the day after such- until this little vacation ended with things going as they had been planned.