People of the River by GreyKobold

People of the River

GreyKobold, Death, Human, Lizard, M/F, Rape, Sci-Fi, Straight, Violence, War, jungle

When crashing into a planet, let us hope one finds friendly natives. And when finding them, let us hope they prove to be there to stand with you when things go down, and make sure you stand up for them when no one else will.

A dear friend of mine (http://www.furaffinity.net/user/meandraco) sent me the picture I used as an image for the submission. I took a long look at it, debated it, and then was asked if I could tell the story of the picture. I gave it some thought, and he commissioned me; or rather, we worked out a trade of services for the story you see, and hopefully read, before you.

It took me two weeks to write this, as well as do some minor editing. I admit, it could be edited to a better degree, but I make do with what I can. It's far better than some I've written.

This is for you, meandraco, and for everyone of those who are a fan, and a friend. I don't deserve half of you.

Day 1; 1200 of 3000 hours

A crimson sky touched by golden clouds, and the endless song of featherless flying reptiles was as a symphony in the twilight hours of the day. Pleasant, admittedly - but with an oddly alien quality, as though the flying creatures were but a few pitches outside of what was expected and the colors were just slightly too sharp - I found myself in pleasant spirits, despite standing beside one of the broken escape pods that had ferried me down onto this alien world at the edge of the charts. Beautiful, but ancient - it felt like a step out of the lost pages of earth history, and was warm, almost hot, but with a wetness suggesting high water content on the planet.

Oh, I had seen massive lakes across the surface of the world, but oddly, no great depths of water - no ice-caps, a world that would be arrid if it were cold, but pleasantly damp, like a great swamp or jungle world - though not of just one biome, certainly. Suggesting to age, no great mountains stood high above the peaks, though ranges criss-crossed in gradual swells with only the slightest edge to a peak. It was a world of the most lovely build - and I was stuck in the jungle, which ran many thousands of miles.

Still, even in the bewildered moments of crash-landing, I found myself drawn to the quiet majesty of the sky and the creatures that sang within the canopy that stretched out above. Mammalian life was rare, but not unheard of - or so preliminary scans of the first cartographers had shown - but it was reptilian dominated - from the fliers, to the hints of the mighty leviathans that swam the lakes the size of small continents. I admit the world held me steadfast, before the smell of heat and flame roused me from my soiare, and I bent to gather what supplies I could, before the pod gutted itself. The ground was damp enough that no fire would spread, at least.

I shouldn't have stepped foot here, in the first place - but I had the misfortune of being on a ship when raiders decided we'd make better slaves than tourists of the expanse. Their attack was bloody and merciless, and both crew and passengers rallied to fight - but a stray shot had been quick to puncture bulkheads and the raiders disembarked, to fire their wide cast shots into the hull of the ship. I was one of those fortunate to get to an evacuation pod. I had bled inside of it - alone as I was launched out - to my grim hope. I spent two miserable weeks inside a pod built for twenty, before the gravity of this planet tugged me in. I had just enough fuel to avoid hitting a lake - though it might have helped prevent a re-cracking of my tibia. It hurt. But I had enough in the medical kit to block out the pain. I grabbed what supplies I could, and holstered a pistol from a wall mount, and piled everything outside of the battered pod. A survival kit - a knife, a tent, two weeks rations for twenty people - I would have been set, but for lack of ways to carry it all. So I left it beside the pod, and drug myself to drier ground, five hundred feet away.

I was in a haze for most of it. A central understanding made me aware that I was still in shock - probably from the red stains on my pants, and I sat down heavily, feeling a shiver running through me that was not from the temperature. I drank sparingly of my canteen jug, and pulled my battered clothing tighter around my torso, the muted brown a sharp contrast to the nearly oscher colored tree. This was bitter. THe sun had lowered itself down a good fraction of the sky, and shadows grew long, but the warmth stayed close beneath the singing symphony of creatures of the nameless jungle.

I roused myself from dreamless rest, from a sleep that made me worried why my hands were cold and pale - and I drew enough sense to try and set up the five pound tent I had carried under my arm. The stakes flipped out as soon as I pressed the bottom to the ground, and the structure erected itself - an opaque 'breathing' plastic snapped open and filled out to be comfortable enough to sit one, perhaps two. A marvel of these modern days, the frame was harder than diamond, while the plastic covering could withstand up to 500 pounds per square centimeter before tearing. It was very tightly bonded, but thin and quite light. I was glad there were plenty to choose from, and so crawled into it after feeding a ravenous hunger. Looking down, I tried to bandage my leg, but exhaustion took me, and I slept deep and cold.

Day 1 : 1750 of 3000 hours

I presume my name is important for these records. My name is Charles Banner, and I am a shipmate, trained in feeding and supplying the nourishment requirements of my guests. In other words, I'm a cook, a damn good one if my rating says anything.

I had been busy onboard the ship in the gallery when the alarms came out - and grabbing a large butcher knife, I joined in the action to repel boarders. Piracy was a vicious thing in this sector, especially on such a large passenger-cruiser as the "Roaming Paradise", but the people who guarded such ships was just as vicious. Though nominally a corporate owned ship, it was outfitted with defensive protection guns - these things able to knock out asteroids and comets if need be - but this ship was strictly defensive if anything at all.

As a cook, my tasks were to see to feeding the many hungers of the several dozen aliens that would take it upon themselves to go for a cruise out in the middle of nowhere. The sights of nebula and great stars were beautiful, certainly - but hardly awe-inspiring the fifth time one went to see them. I was proficient in human delicacies, as well as the Avnari seed-cooking and Dra'nar pasta-transfusions, which were a rave in the higher society circles. I also was handy at mixing drinks - with certain respect for the traditional biological standards for the common Pax-Terra races - but only as a hobby.

I was on a five year contract to tour and cook for the crew and guests - then I would be transferred to a proper restaurant on Beta-Sydney, near the expanded Felnai territories. Good money, easy work, just slap some sauce on it and call it a day. Felnai don't have nearly the taste buds that humans do, much less Avnari or Dra'nar, so they were keen to just have easy meals.

I'd have made a killing. And now I was using a tent to keep myself warm. I was quite cold.

I hated being cold, especially in a world that saw my body-temperature and thought it a good idea for mild weather!

Day 2, 0800 of 3000 hours

I awoke to chittering. A high pitched yap, like a dog with its tail hooked up to an IV full of coffee. THe high pitched sounds made me open my eyes wearily - and I pulled myself towards the tent flap, to peek out, and stare at the world beyond. Green moss and ochre trees leaves of many shades, red to lavender to a rather fetching shade of off-green, it wasn't the source of the noise, but the shape of a hopping figure that was on two legs. Hopping, though it could clearly walk, it held itself at about a meter in height, and looked rather thin and hungry.

A blunt snout, three digits per paw, and with a heavy tail that wobbled when it moves, it peeked around my camp, and held itself inquisitive. Feathers adorned its brow, crested from the top of its scalp to the middle of its shoulders - and I frowned about that. It looked somewhat intelligent - poking at things with its front digit - like the supplies I had, somehow, managed to drag back up to this dry space, and the tent of bright - holy hell I can see you from orbit- orange tent.

The waddling walk carried it, (her?) forward, and then retreated when I made a noise from inside. I had grunted, scraping my thigh against the smooth plastic eneath where I lay. I wasn't open to bleeding again, thankfully. I looked down, wincing at the soaked bandage, then looked up again, catching sight of a snout but inches from my face. I let out a yelp and pulled backwards - while the creature gave its own startled cry, swung, and darted off into the jungle.

As soon as my heart stopped thundering in my chest, I gave a small chuckle, then a full belly laugh. Poor creature - but at least it'd think twice before poking its snout where it didn't belong! I lay my head back down and tried to gather my energy back up, but was entirely too drained. I felt weak and a trace of nausea - not good signs, given I ate sterile food. I tried a little more to settle myself. It did not help matters in the slightest.

I had a mild infection. Without antibiotics, I could only lay myself down to sleep. I knew that much from the medical fields. I just hoped nothing snuck up on me when I slept. My eyes drooped closed, and I slept.

---

Day 3; 0600 of 3000 hours.

I slept for 22 hours. The chronometer on my arm registered it as six in the morning - from local data gathered while inbound from the sensors of the now gutted pod. 22 hours, my mouth parched and my stomach in knots - I sipped a little and tried to sit up - but was forced to lay back, and re-administer the bandages to my leg. The gash on my thigh was ugly, and my shin was swollen - though no more than it had been the day before. Both were warm, but not the hot of infection. I hoped. I sipped more water, then passed out.

Day 3: 1800 of 3000 hours

Fever. I'm shaking again. Waking up to drink. Down to ten gallons. Will have to rig water catcher. Sleep.

Day 6: 0100 of 3000 hours

Fever broke. Hungry for meat. Dreamed of dancing lizards in hula-skirts.

Day 6: 0900 of 3000 hours

My fever broke last night. I'm craving meat, these freeze-dried rations simply don't lack the taste that a proper meal would have, even if it's very high in caloric intake. My body feels weak and my leg still hurts something terrible - but I can begin to put (minimal) pressure onto it. THe wound is angry but closed - the heat is down, and swelling almost completely gone. I was forced to drain the wound this morning, and the pain has diminished considerably - nothing yellow, merely clear and white. and red. No vital damage - but I'll need to rig up a walking staff or cane if I want to move. I hope the transponder signals continue to work. I don't want to die in this world.

A survival manual was found in a patch in the tent - small, but with enough information to build crude shelters, and how to dress and prepare a meal, testing for poisons, and the sort. I believe it also has a setup for water distillation and basics of farming. I hope I don't need to go that far - but if I do, I do. Sticking my head out, I find that I'm alone - and I pull myself out on one leg, crawling tout to sit, and take a look at my surroundings now that shock and pain are not my concerns.

It is warm, moist, and much like a jungle. The ground is dirt, mud, moss and patches of leaf-blade grass, or so I like to think of it. Above, the trees stretch high above, at least ten meters at the base, if not much higher for the largest. Here and there, fallen branches litter the ground - one might be long enough to build a crude walking stick or even a spear if I had to. A check reveals the sidearm is still with me, on full charge. I'm glad for that - I would hate to be naked without it.

My clothing is battered and I stink. I vow to bathe myself in the water I passed - though a part of me worries about parasites. Deciding not to worry - Make plans for tomorrow, and begin to organize and move my supplies from outside the tent to inside. I have ten days of rations - perhaps six of water, and a sling-pack that I can use if I need to. A few cooking tools, a spare knife, and a day-charge night-flare. Good haul. A fire-starter kit is rigged and a pit is crudely dug - to which I look for and, somehow, find a few stones to make a fire pit over - to prevent the fire from spreading beyond my bounds. I don't want to cause a fire by accident.

I need to rig up new clothes. I pull my shirt and pants off and make a wrap for my head and slice down my pants to shorts - though tattered enough that I feel an occasional breeze between my legs. I make do with what I have, and hunt around for anything extra - making long trips as soon as my leg permits me to walk. The trips to the crash and back are painful, but I am running on survival instinct right now - and carrying anything that can be of remote value is good.

The water has spoiled several packages of rations - or more accurately, what appears to be claw marks have. The insides are torn and slashed away - or dissolved into the water. The bricks inside may have been as bland as talc, but it would help me survive if I had to. The water jugs were punctured - what looked to be like piercing from a horny porcupine if I guessed my species. I lost almost three-quarters of it, but was able to luggage back the rest with multiple trips, increasing my rations to nearly eighty packs, assuming they wouldn't spoil in the meantime. Water was less of an issue, even the ruined jugs could prove useful for distilling water, I thought.

It was, but I was too tired to try and rig anything up, especially without rope to hold things together. I was, I realize, just trying too hard. I blame my lack of skills on being born on a properly civilized world.

Organizing it into my tent, I had enough room to lay down in if I had to - and all imediate concerns were taken care of. Now I had to stave off the boredom and wait for rescue. Thankfully I have a recorder to keep track of my thoughts and provide a log if the worst should happen. I hope it doesn't. I like being alive, even if my leg hurts.

Day 7: 0045 of 3000

A terrified screech woke me from a dead sleep - getting used to these eighteen hours of daylight and night is giving me a headache. I was woken up by a dread screech late in the night, and I pulled myself out to look and see what was going on - when a figure, highlighted in the moonlight, was spotted running. One of the lizards from several days before -I thought she was familiar with the head-crest of feathers, but couldn't tell for certain. She was running as fast as her stubby legs could take her, and I watched something chase and leap after her - something that looked like a mix of an alligator and a giant horse. It was boney, heavy with plates, and had eyes that were almost luminous. It ran full-bore after her, jaws open and salivating, and she chittered and screeched - the sound of fear, and, if I was not mistaken, something close to language.

She ran by the tent - and I stood up, pulling myself out with the night flare coming to life in the dark. It was not nearly as dark as my homeworld would have been in this relative hour - I had counted five different moons in the span of seven days. They reflected a lot of light back - thus, I was at an advantage with my mammalian night vision. The flare cast a great shadow around me - and the sight must have been intense. The little reptile attempted to skid to a halt and tripped.

THis saved its life as the teeth grazed where she had been a moment before - and as she tumbled, the beast tried to halt itself - when it caught sight of me. I gave a great cry and the beast tried to backpedal - only to crash into me with a (in retrospect) rather humorous yelp. Of course, its claws dug into me, while the little lizard ducked and hid inside the tent.

I remember wailing on it with the flare and my fist - and claws digging into and ripping at my chest and face and belly. I threw the creature off of me and brought my hands to bare, dripping blood and trying to fight it off - to which it lunged again, catching my leg fin its face for its trouble. Shaking off, dazed, it circled me and I it - until I remembered I had a pistol.

I brought the weapon to bare - and with two quick taps of the trigger, the beast spasmed and fell dead - a hole burned through its brain-cavity, and leaving me feeling winded, and oddly elated. I had to make do with the last of my clothing for bandages, when I looked down at the lizard who had caused the ruckus. She stared at me in wonder - jaws agape and eyes on the glowing tip of my hand-carbine. And with that, she looked up at me - and fainted dead away.

Well, at least I had company.

Day 7: 0500 of 3000 hours

I took the liberty of examining her (I presume it's a her, given she had no external signs of gender that I'm aware of) body. I washed away a few scratches with water and used my bandage kit to dress her down of a few cuts, and even extracted a rather painful looking arrowhead from her shoulder. There was no damage I could tell - so I used a pressure bandage to keep the wound closed, and washed her down to help clean the cuts. A waste of water - but I'd already used half a gallon cleaning my wounds. By now, I had only the tattered shorts that barely covered my bare ass - muchless the front. Nothing valuable had been hurt, though my stomach hurt from a dew-claw rip. I hadn't been disemboweled, but I was close.

I hated this planet, it'd tried to kill me twice already!

She had a head-dress on, though no loincloth and weapon - not even a crude knife or sheath. At a meter tall, she was a cool bodied and smooth - with her tail painted with an interesting design that, I soon found, was actually embedded into her hide like a tattoo. It was too complex for a genetic design, or so I presumed. It was pretty, a swirl like water that ran tail base to tail tip. She had a pleasant, if reptilian, odor to her - dry, a little on the lemony side. Not bad - I always liked citrus.

She awoke to me cooking the beast - having torn off a haunch with a knife, and stripping the meat to sizzle. I'd have given my left foot foot for a proper thermal unit, but I found an odd joy in seeing the meat cook. There was very little fat on the beast I had killed - but the taste, from the stripI'd tried, really wasn't bad. Dry, but very filling. I was busy cooking through a sixth piece when I noticed her snout poking out and sniffing the air, only to spot me with a very surprised squeak! I smiled - greeted her, and she shivered, before noticing the beast laying beside me, dead and still smoking at the scalp. She was even more shocked when I extended to her one of the cooked bits of meat.

Her teeth snapped it up and she devoured it down, then chittered at me inquisitively. I thought it was inquisitive - but I was no linguist. I just smiled and gave her another piece - a third before she settled across and looked up at me in awe. I felt awkward, I won't lie. But she just looked at me and the beast - trying to figure out how I had slain it - or more, why I had saved her.

Hell if I knew myself. But I wasn't upset that I had. She was oddly pretty, and, I found, a mean hand at cooking meat.

I shared water and meat with her - and invited her to stay with what, I hoped, were universal gestures. She may have understood it, or may have not - but all I know is she wouldn't stray more than five meters from me at any one moment. I was strangely amused. I guess I was the hero.

I fed her and attempted to communicate - but found my joy in watching and listening to the squeak-pops of her language, as well as the curious little growls now and then. I nodded understandingly - and she bobbed her head to mimic me - to which I laughed. The sound and volume startled her, though not enough to break her focus. She was damn curious about me, I found.

Not that I minded.

Her name was Hiss-Chirp-!?!-Cheep-Growl?!.

Or, as I ended up finding easier to sound out: "Chirp!"

Day 9: 1500 of 3000

It was with a stretch that I found myself awakening to a body cuddled up against my own. The naked lizard hugged her flesh to mine and she laid her chin on my chest, clinging to me with a pinch of her claws and wrap of her tail around a leg. I was startled, but I didn't shake her off. An afternoon nap had been the idea - it helped me get through the long hours of dark and escape the heat of the planetary 'mid-day', while she seemed to get along with the idea, keeping guard while her injuries healed, and as we learned to communicate. In only two days, I'd picked up a few words - their word for tree, water, sky, fire, meat, and, the beast I'd called: "Chirp-growl-growl-pop", or "Growlypop" I'd shortened it to. An ugly beast, she'd taken its head off with my knife, and removed the skin and meat from it - to claim the skull for some unknown purpose. The meat had gone bad quickly, and I'd drug the thing away - much to her amazed eyes. The thing was easily four times her weight.

SHe was very light, perhaps 25 kilograms - and I had no trouble carrying her on my shoulders if I had to. I didn't want to all the time - that weight does add up.

It was the late afternoon and I let her rest against me - she was cool enough that it was actually quite comfortable to be hugged against, and she absorbed my body heat and I let her gladly have it. Her warm scent was relaxing, and her little bubbling snores made it hard to find her disquieting. Others might have objected to the scales - me, I found them thrilling.

Nine days on this world - the moons stayed bright and the sun stayed hot. I had spent enough hours to get a healthy red tan - and I had accumulated several spears - though with her help as I couldn't climb worth a damn, and she really was still healing from her shoulder wound. She watched me with awe as I carved down different sticks with my metal knife, and sharpened many to a fine point - enough to spear at least once, if not, maybe, twice.

Making her one was easy enough - and with her help (she was a rather skilled hand at it!) she lead me into working the wood properly. She was pleased with how quick I learned, and the spears were gathered and bundled in the strips of cloth I had shorn from my garments. I let her carry them - if only to get her strength back.

It was by then a look had entered her eye - and she made gesture that she had to go But she did not want to go alone. I was not sure I wanted to go - not to leave the safety of my supplies and my shelter - but she pleaded and tugged every time I walked to the edge of the dry ground. She needed a protector - and I needed safety.

I also needed a companion.

Humans are social creatures, it would turn out. Because I walked with her out of the camp by the time dusk had set - and made my way into the swamps, following the skillful swimmer by walking along the cool water ways.

Day 14; Hour ten - New format chosen.

Damnable thing, these options are terrible.

We traveled for five days, or maybe nights is the accurate word. We traveled and wandered - my presence kept us from being molested as much as her pointing out traps and problems. I hunted for us with my pistol, and she helped me cook, by pointing out the select meats to devour, and which parts to avoid. She had quite a set of tastebuds on her - and she laughed as I admitted (in a crude way), she had good taste.

Maybe it was just being polite.

After five nights of travel, we arrived at a higher plateau, out of the water and dry spot terrain I had grown used to. By estimation, we traveled nearly eighty kilometers from my crash site - and another five up the plateau towards what would be a very crude village. No walls kept it safe, but no farm fields were present either - or maybe I did not know enough of the planet to call what I saw a farm. They were not quite hunter-gatherer, but not yet farmers from my estimation.

They swarmed out and gawked at me, then gave great cries when they saw Chirp! beside me - who ran to them, and embraced those who met her. I stayed back some distance out - not wanting to scare them, as they animatedly talked at a speed far beyond my capability. I caught the word for "Growlypop" and "Food", as well as her name for me, which while I couldn't quite pronounce it - did come out as something meaning 'GIant'.

A rather tall one met me at the edge of the gathering of huts, and Chirp! spoke eagerly and animatedly, and far faster than I could have hoped to translate. I sat in the tatters of my clothing and suckled water out of my drink-bladder, and studied the huts and crude ditch system that had been built - filled with small, sharp stakes from the look of it. They were pre-bronze if they'd been human, and they seemed intelligent enough with the defensive layout. I hoped they were not expecting war.

Last thing I needed, getting caught up in a bronze-age war.

The skull of the Growlypop was also marveled at, easily half their size and fangs as long as their forearms. A truly nightmarish beast, even skinned and polished off. It'd look awesome over a mantle, I found myself thinking. The skull was kept close to me. while I ate what rations I had saved up. It tasted good enough. The canopy overhead was clear enough that I could see the cloud-laden sky. Very pretty.

At least it was semi dry. I was already having to scrape off a fungus I'd found on my inner thigh. It didn't itch, but the skin had been bleached white where it'd sat. I was tender enough already without worrying about my genitals falling off.

Soon, she came to me, and extended her hands up to touch my face. Leaning in, her snout bumped my cheek and she murmured something I didn't understand, then took the skull, and placed it into my hands. There, she took my hand and tugged until I stood, towering over the assembled. They held pears, with flint heads and bone piercing ready to prod me if I got unruly - at four feet, I wasn't sure I could survive being poked with one.

I held the skull as I was lead to the chieftain, and looked to Growly! as she knelt down, and indicated for me to do the same. I held up the skull, and watched him take it - and followed her as she touched her snout and hands to the ground. I followed suit, as they say: "When on Titan", and let her speak. It was a long speech, a welcome speech. The leader gave me a look, bobbing his head-dress, and snorted once. He walked up and placed a foot upon my skull and pushed down - I could have easily shaken it off, then pushed me up onto my knees.

The spears were lowered then, and the chief held the skull up high in a loud cry. Cheers followed suit. I guess I was welcome.

Day 16; Hour Twenty

Note to self: Re-read Survival Manual

Initially, they began their conversations about me - and while they talked, I spent time listening to the gabbering of Chirp! as she spoke with the clan and tribe, sometimes with the chieftain, other times with the fat elders, who looked as happy as toads in their clothes and belts. It was welcome hesitantly. The children (Hatchlings? Is that the correct term? I'm not sure)) poked at me curiously and a few admired the softness of my skin and the wisps of a beard I had on my face. I ate with them of their crude meals, and was terribly tempted to try seasoning with the different plants - some I'd found them growing in crude farms within the wood.

Others had fruits that were plucked from long vines, and a rather boisterous group gathered nuts from the high boroughs, hard things that had an inner taste almost like a walnut had a drunken orgy with his best friend a cashew and a peanut. An Omni Nut, I tasted a few and had no negative effects, and even roasted them, to which I shared and was welcomed to do so with the other bunches. The hard shells were used for polishing bone, I noticed.

The Skull was placed on a great pike before the main path into the village, adorned with symbols of red berry juice and strips of cured leather, which gave it a menacing look. It was, I supposed, a warning to those who would come near. Me? I thought it was crude but effective a sign post.

Chirp! stayed near me most of the first day, and stayed beside me in the night, even eschewing a hut for the stars and my body heat. She also showed me where to use the latrine, and seemed to stare at my genitals when I urinated. Difficult to do, peeing with someone watching. I think she wanted to poke to make sure it was real. Given the other males, as we had suspiciously similar anatomy in that regard, I must have been hung like a Horse. (Do they have horses on this planet? Maybe hung like a Growlypop? That thing was pretty big down stairs.) Penis-measuring aside, she toured and I learned the word for farm (Snaz-glick), chieftain (Fheek-Lizar), and Ditch (Deech, seriously, almost phonetically the same!). Other words were of importance too, but I was gaining a handy vocabulary in my time here.

It was at the back of the village, where I had been thinking of making an axe and forming up a wall for the village, when I caught a sign and shout of panic. from the outskirts, near where the fruits and berries were gathered. I stood with Chirp! while she tried to explain the creation story to me (A great flying lizard laid an egg from its womb, which grew heavy and green with the moss of life. There, the children of the egg were given life upon the great moss egg, which were the "Rssharwroler" or, People of the Jungle, who were to keep guard against the Evil Things (No literal translation; Zzhgh-flhem-spit) and to live good lives, to influence the spirit of the egg, which would hatch when the great Flying Lizard came to warm it as it did every night. (I presume the reason for night and day, the great lizard shadows the sun? Don't ask me, I'm a chef). I found it curious, and listened with the utmost patience, knowing the fact I came from a different 'moss-egg' would just blow her saurian mind. She held up a jade-green egg, and pressed herself onto it, as though warming it (she didn't have a cloaca. I couldn't help but notice. It's been almost a month since I had /that/ kind of contact!). She had the egg pressed up against herself as she spoke - indicating the moons and sun (don't ask, I was lost by that point). She jerked up when she heard the scream, and looked up at me with great fear.

Some things are universal.

She chittered faster than I could understand and pulled me away from the open air shrine of wood and leather, and towards the center, where some were gathering. Words were exchanged hard and fast, and I saw many stone and bone weapons get drawn out - which made me rest a hand on my survival blade and check the charge of my pistol. A solar charging had added two shots to it, but it would take almost a full week to gather enough solar radiation to be functiioning agian. I was at around three-quarters charge.

"(Enemies?) attack (Youth/Children/Unblooded), <Unkown> many-many <Greater than two hands full of fingers>." Spoke the Fheek-LIzar, after waving off the one who had run the distance from the attack. I saw an arrow sticking in the tail root of the runner. Looked painful. "Defend (Home/Village/Area) from (Enemies?)"

It took me enough time to translate, before I found myself stared at by the chieftan, who looked up at me, expectantly. I held his gaze for a moment, before he nodded, and gestured me to follow. I did, leaving Chirp! behind, who gazed up at me anxiously. I did understand her fear. But, when on Titan...

We ran. Or rather, I walked and the others ran, I able to easily keep pace with them, and followed after grabbing up a branch in hand, bigger than the chieftan was. I carried it while keeping my pistol at the ready, the walk nearly four kilometers from the village - an easy distance for me, but surely a winded distance for the defenders. I carried the chieftan when he stumbled, and I knew I added strength to their strides just by being there. When we arrived, I found injured and the dead, and several tied up in coffled of vine and dried leather straps. I counted fifteen who were captured.

And I counted thirty who wore different symbols and who had raided.

I saw blood from the jaw of a female, and she was mounted by a male. His hips were burried deep and he was groaning his pleasure - several others were too - a quick capture and rape of the females and, well, it appeared a young male had been sodomized, the way he was shivering and looking to have been broken.

I don't remember the whole of what happened next. I do remember storming up to the male who was busy raping the female, and grabbing him by the throat and tearing him off of her. I was angry, I was infuriated, I saw red as I hurled him into a tree, and watched him fall, keening, with a broken back and twisted neck. He died in agony. I don't remember much but flashes after that, using my staff to batter away one who got close, and firing into the midst of the archers, who drew upon me and hit me with their ten-inch dart-arrows. I remember a flash of pain as I was stabbed in the thigh - then a sound of breaking bone when I kicked upwards and stomped on the chest of a fallen enemy.

All said and done - the battle lasted ten minutes, and nineteen fell before being forced to retreat. I bellowed after them but for a restraining word and a pair of hands on my back, gripping my tattered garments. I was shaking with rage - and covered in blood and hurting from arrows. But I had found my anger, my rage, my sense of justice.

I was looked on fearfully by the clan for a long time afterwards, even when I lifted the broken male and held him over my shoulder, and carried the female the same. Others were assisted, but the victims were mine to take care of. They had it the worst. I carried them back to the village, and then collapsed when I returned to the place set aside for me. I was winded and hurt, and had to work the arrows out with my knife, once I Cleaned it in boiling water. I cleaned the injuries and let them cloth, then fell into a long, dreamless sleep, curled up beneath the stars.

Day 18; 8th hour

I woke up in the dark, and lay beneath the canopy, feeling the aches running my body. Chirp! was not beside me, and the village was quiet, but for the four who had been chosen to guard in the evening, incase any reprisals were to happen. I lay awake and wished that my body would adjust to the hours faster, but I enjoyed the small, cool breeze that blew across me. I stunk a bit, I noticed - and rose up to go wash myself in the river that was not too distant. The water was cool, and deep enough to come to my hip, and I welcomed it as I dove, naked, and let the water relax me.

I lay and watch the stars above me, the canopy open along the river stream, and wondered whcih was home. I supposed none of them, given where we were in this arm of the galaxy. None. I was home here, in the village, not in the stars. Rescue was non-existant. I guessed I was okay with that - because even if I wasn't okay, it was the truth. Truth was all that mattered. Plus, it wasn't so bad, the native tribe was friendly and the language was easy to pick up. i didn't have to pay taxes, or worry about muggings either.

There were worse gigs.

I lay in the water for almost two hours, before noticing I had someone watching me. Looking up from the water, I found the company of the young male, who gazed at me in silent awe - and the female, who looked bruised and battered, but had the dignity to still stand brave. I could have guessed them siblings, how the male stood behind and close to her, as though she would protect him from any harm. I suppose she had tried to. She looked at me, and spoke the word "Giant", then knelt, and bowed low and in suplication. The male joined her, both crouched and tails high - and I watched them, unsure of what to say. So instead, I got out of the water and came near them, to stand before, and look down.

"Stand, friend." I said, gently. My voice was far deeper than they could ever hope to get, and I was not much of a baritone either. "Are you..."

"Healthy. Brother not speak. Weak, could not protect." She said, swallowing and looking down at my feet, even after she drew up from being prostrate and into being knelt. "But am safe. Thankful for Giant. Save brother. Brother live."

He nodded mutely. His face was looking up at me, the naked little lizard swallowing, nervous about me. I understod, I'd be terrified of someone fourteen feet tall, myself. I smiled without showing teeth, and lowered my hand to him. He sniffed at it, then placed his cheek against it. I crouched, then sat on my ankles, and stroked his head gently, then hers as well.

"Parent died. Sat on brother egg. Kept warm in creche. He only living hatchling. No speak. Only family left. Keep brother safe. No mate - no mate want mute and slow brother-in-law. Only family in clan. You protect most important. Owe you everything. Serve you."

"No. No serve. Glad help." I tried. My language had improved. or, rather, my confidence had. "Protect little sister, little brother. Break any who harm, yes?"

I was an oaf to the slinky little creatures, but I would not see harm come to them. She lunged and wrapped her legs around me, and hugged me tight, burrying her face into the crook of my thigh. I felt rather uncomfortable with a snout (with teeth) so close to my genitals, but remained still for her, as she hugged and shivered and breathed in my scent. The male followed suit, hugging my leg. I was glad the water had been cold.

So it was, I adopted the two of them into my care, and let them know they would be safe and protected if I had any say in it. I knew then she was younger than she seemed, and needed a guardian. WHoever her parents had been was not important. That the brother could not speak, I didn't care. I felt kinship, or maybe a guardians instinct with them, and would see them safe.

THey held me until the weather grew warm, and I shook them off. I left my rags where they were, too blood-stianed and dirty to use and merely took up my belt. I was warm, but naked, save for the shoes I had taken with me. At least these were well made. I walked with them back to the village, they walking behind me, and at a comfortable pace. I felt a moment of embaresment, but that passed, as I found no eyes lingering (too long) on my nakedness.

Plus, they weren't human.

Day 18; Hour 10

My return to the village was met with some small notice, once from the four who held each point of the village, then from the few elders I had come to notice. They offered me little mind, just a note of my state of dress and the companionship I kept, of the two who were all but outcast in the culture. I didn't ask why they had been outcast, or much care. They seemed arlight to me, for what little I knew.

My time was spent in silent lingering at the great central pit, where a fire side settling had been set near the dying embers. I looked upon the faces of some and gave a small smile - before settling down for my morning rations of whatever gruel they made. It wasn't the greatest, but it stuck to the ribs and kept hunger at bay for almost ten hours. Nutrition wise, I was sure it was helping me get fit.

It was also high in protien.

Chirp! met me for my meal, with a critical eye for Mute and SIster, both who kept close to me. Chirp! gave little sign of jealousy, though observed them with a keen eye for... for whatever it was she was looking for. I didn't know, I was not very skilled with females of my own kind, muchless alien lizards who waddled around half naked everywhere.

Still, Chirp! occupied my thigh as she ate, as proudly as any peacock. I let her have her ride, her tail was warm on my leg.

"Why with <Mute> and <Sister>?" She asked me, when they went to get more of the gruel for myself and themselves. I shrugged a little, and leaned in to rest my chin on the forehead of the soft, green scaled female. She liked that, her eyes lidding with a pleasurable little thrum.

"They need help. Protection. She forcefully mated. He too." I replied, giving her feathers a sniff. She smelt faintly of swampland, and very lightly of lemon, right now. Her scent would change with the day. "I protect, like protect you, tribe."

"Hmm. They no good. Outsider."

"I am Outsider too. I no good?"

"No. Giant very good." She said, her left hand coming down to squeeze me between the legs. I stiffened, and let out an exasperated huff, my chest rising up in shock. Her hand drew back as she gave me a small laugh. "And big. Big like Growlypop in season."

So I was being hit on by a lizard girl. She drew her hand away from me, and I was surprised at a part of me that protested the loss of contact, when the others came back. Sister took an eye of me and my half turgid erection, while Mute just smiled, and dove into his food. He was even happier when I shared what I couldn't finish.

Day 24, Hour 11

So I built a home. It was not easy, given the tools they had, and I was not looking to build something made of mud and thatch, with no offense to the natives. Instead, I went into the great jungle with Sister and Mute, and began to examine rocks. Though I wasn't exactly certain what I was going to do with them, I had a few ideas, and gathered many up in a central location, and took them back to the village after many trips. These rocks I began to examine and sharpen, hammering the smaller ones against the properly angled ones I could find, and making a nice pile of stone shard, which I left for the others to dig through and take what they wanted. I would have killed for a matter-assembler, but I took what I could get.

An axe is really not as complex as it seems, but much harder than anyone would give credit to. I took what leather chord I could barter (as my strength was much put to use in lifting and helping others gather. I never had found myself very strong, but was growing glad for the admiration of what I could do. Leather chord was used to secure an axe-shaped head to a large enough stick, and I gave it a few swings, and then re-tied it when I found the first didn't fit right. It was crude and basic, but it caught the attention of those who asked what it was.

"Aksss" I heard one hiss after I named it. It had a nice little hiss to them. I later learned it meant 'Fortune'. I suppose that name was right. I went into the jungle with Mute and Sister, and had them show me a tree that was for neither food nor sacred. A particularly tall one was chosen, and I set about working my axe into the side of the tree, cutting out small strips and chips. It was hard labor, and I was tired by the time I got through the first one. This I watched fall with a shout of 'Timber!', and then set to stripping it of branches that could be carried back into the village.

They were more than happy to take them off hand, with over four hundred branches brought in. Weaving baskets and stakes and spears could be made of the gathered materials, muchless the vines and leaf which some came to assist me in stripping down. Soon it was just the log itself, which raised a question of how to transport it. I wished again for metal, a saw would have answered so many problems.

So I began to chop it up into sections, each one just light enough to lift, where I carried it into town, hile considering an alternative means of transportation. Some ropes did help after a day or two, and more of the village took time to assist me, carrying what they could while I transported a stockpile into the village. I gathered them together and began to break them down further into small, sturdy poles. I could make several of them (and more with practice) to create a very simple pole-house, which gathered together and was insulated with mud and wood shavingss. It was big, sturdy, and I used wood shaving for the floor - and the thing was big enough that I could sit upright in and lay out comfortably. It was comfortable to rest in and stood up in a breeze, especially when their chief builders came and helped me tighten the poles with rope.

I had a house, and it only took me seven days.

They seemed to take to axes rather well, a little more advanced than flint was this stone and bone. Mud had its uses, but a wood house? There was fancy. Now I just needed to figure out a binding agent, or, if I could, nails. I'd build a proper cabin then.

Sister and Mute stayed with me in the grand home, set at the outside of the village, just within the spike perimeter. Maybe I should set about making a shovel. I compromised and made a stone hoe, which I used to pick and loosen the dirt. It worked. I used it to dig myself a latrine, and was glad the leaf was useful enough. It left me a little itchy afterwards.

But I had a home. A home, with two to share it - one who gathered and the other who helped me build. I was glad for the company, and learned to speak more fluently, and Chirp! came by at odd hours to check on me, and discuss the nature of building. She sat facinated as I discussed creating walls and looking for metals (a word I introduced) and alloys. The survival manual didn't cover that - I just had a little bit of common sense when I needed to. I had no idea where they'd get it, but an idea sparked for rock breaking tools. Plus, I needed to move beyond stone and bone, myself.

Day 29; Hour 30

Sister came to me with a woven mat, and gave it to me as a gift. In her time, she had managed to create a crude, but comfortable mat, which I used to sleep on. It was the color of the Terran sun and it was a little itchy, but I couldn't ask for wool. I took it and hugged her, and she settled upon my lap and held me close, in thanks and calling me words I didn't know, nor would she repeat. I didn't care really, and just took my time in decorating the place, having already found feathers and rocks to set on leather chords in paterns that Mute dictated. He had an eye for making things look nice.

One thing had already spread through them was my habit of boiling water before I drank it - using large bowls to heat the water, then transfer the hot water into new containers. Washing my tools and using some warm water on myself always gathered strange looks, but they didn't understand the luxury and pleasure of hot water. My knife was always clean and tended to, the extra-dense duraloy wouldn't lose its edge anytime this lifetime, and the shoes could withstand years of practice. I had grown used to the sun and sported a nice, even tan, even on my genitals.

My hair had lightened, and I sported a full growht of hair on my face, to the delight of Sister, who liked to feel it rub against her face. It tickled, she had said. Mute just smiled and sharpened a stone axe, making it into a fine, sharp head - and testing it on the wood he had near him - a simple log I had left around the village. I had tried using my pistol at first, but the wide beam had set it to smoulder, then nearly crush me as it fell inward towards me. Every ten days I would go out and cut another down - creating a stockpile of wood that was being used in ways I hadn't expected. One had managed to create interlocking paterns, which held together to create a durable structure. In time I'd make my house like that, but the roof idea still bothered me.

It was late when she woke up, I had always had trouble sleeping at this awful hour, and she came to me, Chirp!. Drawn in the long leather cloak she had taken to wearing as the hours changed and grew shorter, the air and night a little cooler, the female came to me as I stood outside the tent and kept watch in the dark, my eyes quite adapted to the nights.

"Giant, why awake?" She asked of me, to which I smiled without teeth, and gave her invite to sit on one of the chairs I had managed to craft. It was nothing more than one of the logs shaped and smoothed, but the idea stood. She joined me, as I sat myself down. "Is late. Time to dream."

"Why you awake, Chirp!? I asked, lifting up a purified bowl of water, and drank it. Fresh, clean, without polution or the burning taste of cleaner, I relished in the luxury here. A cool breeze brought the temperature down to almost eighty, and I savored the coolness. "Should be sleep. Elders might ask why visit Giant."

"Have spoke to Chieftan. Suggest you join tribe." She smiled to me, and looked down my body, then up. "Be good, have giant in tribe."

"Thought was." I replied, before pulling her onto my lap, and holding her comfortably. My chin brushed her scalp as I hummed, swaying lightly in the wood. I should start learning to carve. I needed metal tools though. I'd noticed a few of the rocks had traces of tin - it would be a basic metal, but extremely useful. I just needed to make a forge. I was so glad I read fantastical history novels.

"No. Visiter. Make in tribe. Give mark. Ritual. Ask god's favor. Make proper male."

I grunted. "Am proper male!"

"Oh, more to male than staff between legs!" She laughed, eyeing me with a saucy cock of her head, and something akin to a smirk. "Or tree, as may be."

"Mmm." I said, closing my eyes as she slid her flanks against my lap a little more firmly, and I felt my breath catch as she slid herself against me. I grunted a little, swallowing. She was so very warm, and it had been so very long for me. Her hands slid onto my thighs. "Maybe. What require?"

"Have others speak for. Hunt dangerous beast. Show can bring prosperity to village. Already do those. Kill big Growlypop, you do good. But more. Show wise. Show egg-mark on body." She traced a claw along my thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. Her other hand fell between my legs and touched me. "Show others strong father. Show protect and support mother. Show make mother <growlrumblerumble-hisspop> and be <growlrumblerumble-hisspop>."

"Show make what?" I asked, her hand kneaded and stroked me, as solid a stroke as any creature had right to, but her pads were alien, not my own, and felt good as she caressed and stroked me with her eyes wide. I wasn't anything spectacular, but in size comparison, I truly was large. Her breathing was quick as well.

"Put this in female. Show can ride female. Then show can make filled." She stroked me harder, her breath quickening. I grunted pleasantly, my eyes shutting tight and her hand quick to knead on me. "Can do? Is Giant male? Can giant fill female, claim as mother to young?"

"I..." I grunted, my testicles felt heavy. She took that as consent as she stroked me now with both hands, pumping and caressing as she squeezed her thighs against me. I humped forward without much thought. I should be careful not to get a splinter, a small part of my mind said. "Can put in? MIght hurt."

"Practice." She said. Her sex was hot, wet, and I felt her grinding along my arousal. I shuddered with excitement and pleasure, sparks showing behind my eyes as I leaned my head back and groaned. My hips lifted up, raising her. "Have thicker eggs. Some females take into egg-womb, yes?"

"Yes." I hissed out. My head was filled with a roaring, and I shuddered, as she lifted my shaft, and pointed it at herself, bending it slightly, and making my body shudder. I throbbed in her grip and bucked, spurting my seed across her chest, her belly, even up to her snout. She squealed in excitement and shuddered herself as I quivered, giving her my gift, my heat, my seed. "Hhn, yes!"

"Good." She said, holding me as I splashed her - it was thick from beng pent up and gooey from the heat. I chuckled pleasurably, lost in the moment, and watched her as she lifted the shaft up and bent her head, to gently lick the seed from my throbbing tip. It was a wave of pleasure that washed through me, making me quiver. "Mmm. Very good. Find female to make own, hm?"

"You?" I asked her, as she basked in the warm splashes that painted her. "Mmm. Father might be angry."

A cough caught me, and I turned, catching Sister eyeing the mess on my belly, and Mute standing near, watching with those big, curious eyes. Chirp! helda hand down and wiped it through the mess on her front, and then offered it to Sister, who came forward, and, gently, began to lick those fingers clean.

"No, Father might un-man you. But, perhaps she. Perhaps she, hm? Make good wife. Protect, honor, she cook and you mate, care for?"

"Her?" I watched, in rapt facination as that long tongue swirled fingertips, and licked clean the jism that dripped between them. The other hand was dragged through the musky seed, then she held it out to Mute, who came up, sniffing once at it.

"Or he. Or both. He mute, not allowed full male. He be your wife. Make both? Yes?" I watched him lick those fingertips clean, before both joined in licking the body of Chirp! clean. I felt dumbfounded by the idea. The other two said nothing, cleaning and licking, even lower now. "Be good protect. Outsider, out-caste, but, good protect. He lesser male. She damaged female. You join tribe, both be yours."

I gave it some thought. I caught the eyes of Mute, as he burried his snout between my legs, and began to lick me clean, of sweat and effort and pleasure. His tongue was good.

"And I have to be...?" I asked, after a moment, looking up through tired eyes.

"Accept, yes. Give, take. No trouble for." She said, wrapping her arms around me as she turned and faced me, and rubbed her face on my own. "You do?"

"Maybe."

Day 35 - Afternoon; New Format Chosen

So I might have gone native. Given it had been over a month and some days since arival, and with no resurgent infections and but a small issue of a moss that always grew on me (and had to be scraped off), I didn't think I had an issue with it. The weather was hot but comfortable, the air clear, and the company I kept was useful, and grew to use the methods I taught them. Though hardly an expert, it was enough.

The direct time didn't really matter, I'd found - I ate when it was time to eat, and I slept when I was tired. I took the time to gather up rocks and broke them for the traces of whatever metals and alloys I could find, and gathered the rocks together that I could make a fire pit with. Several rocks were piled together and I began to grind the smaller ones with larger, making smaller stones that I could use for later. For now, I tried to puzzle my way into concrete, which was proving to be a pain in the ass. My fire pit did grow hot enough to melt some of the alloys onto when I threw on enough logs and branches for long enough periods of time. I wrapped the alloys in mud and dirt, which made it easier to collect when I was done.

So it was that after thirty five days, I made my first, crude, nails. It took a long time to perfect, and the nails were a very weak mixture of whatever was around, but it did its job, especially when I nailed two poles together, and let them stand together. I felt proud. I felt tired. I'd invented a very crude method of blacksmithing! Except, this wasn't iron. Iron was well beyond me.

I began to construct a more solid structure than the shoddy lean-house I'd built, and had managed to get several boards through repeated and heavy labor and problem-solving attempts. The wood was still green, but a quick smoking (as I'd observed a few of the small folk doin) helped get rid of excess moisture in the already moisture-rich enviornment. I crafted several boards and began to build against the base of the small house, giving myself a more solid enciornment to sleep on, as well as with wood flooring. That was a lot easier to deal with than waking up with sawdust in my face.

It was quiet, almost sedate, and I grew content with my work, my time spent between gathering wood and assisting the foragers - and the occasional defensive action on the predators that hunted these jungles. But content was not what I really wanted - I was thriving in these challenges, in finding metals and crafting nails and tools with it, I thrived in being useful.

I decided to join the tribe, formally, and with permissions to be fully intitiated. I was only worried about hurting Sister with myself - and she seemed to be worried about how big I was, muchless how they wanted me to intiate myself. I had proved my gifts to the tribe, but the other parts worried me. I'd do what I had to. I wanted to.

Given I already supported Mute and Sister, that I gathered and had protected them (even from their own, who saw them as outsiders despite being of the tribe), and that I'd given them my own hearth and simple home to be in, it was more a question of the physicality of it. Maybe I could get a quest instead?

Sister was anxious about my size. But Mute? He just gave me a thoughtful look and shrugged. I don't think he gave it much worry, yae or nae. I'd not thought about males in that way, and wasn't sure I wanted to, or that I'd fit without breaking him. Damnit, I liked him!

I thought this over as I balanced stones and continued trying to work out the proper mixture for a more solid agent to bind rocks together. I was getting better, but it'd take months to perfect. I didn't have the right resources, and the guide didn't cover the basics of civil engineering in either case. Still, I hoped and gave it a push, the stones sticky, but always brittle when they dried out. Better than nothing, but I wouldn't sleep under it.

It was raining, a light misting more than the heavy downpour I'd first encountered. I watched the water course down the stones I'd piled and flow along the ground, soaking and making mud. Maybe I could use clay, if I could find any? I shrugged at the thought, dreaming of plumbing and an aquaduct, and the cold water made me feel refreshed in the heat of the day. To the rest of the tribe I was mad, but I was a useful madman.

I met with the Chieftan as I watched the water flow, and he gazed up at me through one old eye, the other blind and looking to be troubled with cataracts.

"Daughter say you join tribe?" He asked me, leaning heavy on his staff, which bore many feathers and carvings. His own feathers were plumed up, he needed no head-dress. "If yes, can do. Make good tribe-mate. Maybe. Make good guardian for tribe."

"Yes. But, unsure how. Bring gift. Show worth. Yes. No mark. No egg." I rubbed my chest, eyes lingering on the very thin mark just barely noticable on the light blue-green of his chest. I looked back up at his face after a moment. My chest itched in sympathy for how that must have felt, earning wise.

"Speak with Elders. They know ways. Why you want join?" He sat himself down on one of the wooden seats I had carefully carved and smoothed down, and seemed satisified with the comfortable and solid structure. Wooden furniture was not unique to them, but solid pieces like what I built were. Theirs used leather, straps, wood, and dried leaf.

"Protect Chirp!, protect Sister, protect Mute. Protect People of the River, have home, have place to enjoy. Good people. Have no other place. Lonely outside of town. Can do good, build walls, help people." I used the full lexicon that I could. Really, I didn't want to be alone any more. The first week had been hell. "Do what have to. Good leaders, good elders, good folk."

"Yes. Good folk." he nodded, his crest lifting up as he thought. I eyed his bone necklace, from it hanging a claw of a predator I didn't know. "Yes. Can allow join, must have father to speak for, mother to egg. No egg for Giant. Must make one. Perhaps able to make own egg? Hm? Maybe, build great house for Elders, show others able to provide for whole tribe. Maybe good? Have female picked out for mateship?"

And there was the hard question.

"Maybe. Sister, and Mute, her brother." I replied, to his frown. But he nodded as he eyed me over a bit, then shook his head.

"Mmm. Outsider of tribe. He not brought in, she work and stay outside, stay with own hut. They weak, bad egg, bad luck. Why bring bad luck into own house?"

"Giant protects Weak, lets weak get strong. Mute help build, help create. Sister gather, keep company, warm at night." Though I didn't need it, they loved how warm my body was, and often curled up against or on me when we slept. I'd grown quite comfortable with it. "Mute and Sister make good family. Rather I mate Chirp!?"

His look was withering.

"Giant not make eggs with Sister. Giant not ... capable. But Giant provide, protect eggs, protect mother, protect children."

Day 37; Dawn

They attacked at dawn. A wind, a small breeze really, blew through the cool hours of morning, and greeted me as I strode from my fortified lean-to-house-thingamajig. I was strangely proud of the horrible looking structure, and knew it would stand most things thrown at it, at least, if things stayed as sedate as they had been. I puleaned against the side of the structure and looked out over the quiet village, thankful for landing here, though it lacked some amenities I missed.

Curled up across my lap was Sister, her brother kicking lightly as he dreamed on the woven mat he lay on. I stroked the dozing figure of my delightful little lizard, and combed my fingers through the feathers on her crest, which elicted a small little trill even as she slept. I was content, though I could have gone for a cup of coffee. It was a good day, I had plans for reinforcing the forge and possibly working on a bellows, though I was stumped on what material to use. A hot fire would make better alloys, but I'd need something more than wood, I believed.

The attack came with an unnanounced arrow suddenly flying out, and landing against the side of my leaning house. Small feathers quivered on a narrow wooden branch, while the head of flint was lodged in deep. I squinted, trying to make sense of what was going on, before I curled protectively down when I caught a flicker in the light. Ducking and covering Sister, I hugged her close and felt a pain explode in my shin. My leg spasmed, and I let out a bellow of a yell.

I stood, pain blooming through my leg, and hurried into the protective house, dragging the chair to use as a make-shift shield behind me. I placed Sister down and crouched, listening to yells and shouts echo through the village. It was not a happy sound.

I yanked the arrow out of my shin and grunted, blood flowing down my leg in a healthy scarlet - a good sign, I hoped, as it would clean any bad stuff out. For a moment I wanted some anticeptic. Maybe I would have to learn to distill rotten fruit. I made a mental note of that, and put preasure down on the injury, trying to slow the flow. My shin felt dented, but not broken. Possibly cracked - I would need a wrap for it.

"Attack." I shook Mute, who blinked up at me in surprise. He shook himself out and grabbed for a spear I'd made for him, using sharpened rock and a thin, fire-reinforced wooden branch carefully shaved down. It was a sturdy little thing. I'd have to upgrade it with a metal haft when I had the chance. After nails. And a distillery. And coal.

Sister took up my knife and held it like it were a machete, which was a comparable size in her hands. I nodded, and peeked up as a swarm of fifty, sixty figures raced across the ditches and over the southern pass - in the direction that the berry-pickers had used. I saw four of them charge towards the house, spears ready and their fanged mouths open in battle cries. I had to admire their spirit.

They were surprised when I used the carved chair (little more than a stump with back support, honestly) to bat two of them away. The others stabbed at me, one nicking me across the breast, the other coming between my legs. I clenched my thighs together and turned, tearing the spear from one who hissed and leapt at me with claws. I punched, sending him flying bac. The last stared at the three who were trying to get their senses back - then fell with a soundless thump when Mute threw his spear, lodging into the sternum of the little warrior.

I rubbed at my chest and shook my head, then pulled the spear up from between my thighs, and hobbled over to disable the three left alive. A quick swat with the spear saw fit to make them quiet and unmoving. I hefted them up and placed them inside the hut, and placed the chair back in to cover them. There was work to do.

The fight was bloody and vicious, a raid of destruction, purposed with killing or injuring, not stealing, as there was little to take. I stormed out with my great staff, now reinforced with a good smoking that dried it out and toughened the fibers. I thrust myself into the fray as I spotted red-painted warriors lunging for the elders grand hut, and I rose up to strike at them from behind. I roared a challenge, they screamed in fear - a bloody monster of legend at their back.

I found it quite thrilling to make my enemies fear. Me, a cook of all things, being the terrible monster. I swung my great staff and saw them scurry away - and ducked my head in to see that the elders were unharmed, but for one who bled from a stone-knife to the gut. She would not survive, I knew. I pulled my head back out and then grunted in agony, an axe burrying itself in the back of my left thigh. I fell, tumbling down, and turned to see another flying for my face. I brought my staff up and deflected the blow with ease, then brought it down on the skull of a red-warrior, who fell, seizing up with a broken neck.

Another rushed me and his axe bit into my arm - it was shallow, my bones were stronger than theirs, and I had the muscle, but a death of a thousand cuts would see through my thin skin. I struck back and pulled myself against the hut to guard my back - seven of them coming near with axe and spear. I struck and battled and bled. I hurt, when a spear end snapped off in my chest - making breathing difficult.

But I would fight, and I did - roaring as a red mist fell over me, and battering them away with harder and faster strikes. Each hit sent a pulse through me, and I pulled up to my knees, towering over them, and broke bodies with each blow. I fought on - the raid dying into a din of distant voices. I struck the last from me, and felt the ground rush up to meet me.

I was panting for breath, hard and heavy. I felt blood spilling from my mouth. Oh that wasn't good. I looked up - a figure stood above me, tall and menacing. He rose his axe up high above his head, and sung down. I felt pain. I felt white. I felt darkness.

*Unknown Day; Unknown Time, *

Does time really matter?

I dreamed. I don't know how long I dreamed, but I dreamed. Wholey insubstantial and entirely incoherent, they were washes of color and screams of the pained - the feeling of suffocating and smoke being blown into my face as I gasped for breath. That hurt. Washes of pain over-rode me, followed by the feeling of being hot, as though I were on fire. I cried, I wept, I screamed. The dreams came and went, until I was laying still in the dark, but for the labor of my own breathing.

I was short of breath, but long of feeling drained. I was hot, but it was not the wet heat of a fever, but the dry heat of smoke and fire that burned near me, which warmed my torso. Clay, I knew the texture from the deposite I'd found when diving in the river, wrapped my torso, arm, and thighs - leaving me curiously covered, but bare at face and left arm and feet. I struggled to move against the baking heat - and cried out again, through a hoarse throat.

"Giant lives." The voice was smooth, for their kind - soft of pitch and tone and welcoming me to sit up just a bit, despite the flare of pain in my chest. I sat up - nausea running through me, and turned to heave dryly against the fire. A grey smoke rose up as leafs were tossed onto it, making my mind hazy and thoughts distant. I struggled a moment for clarity. "Giant lives. Is good sign."

She was adorned in a cloth and vest, one eye covered and scars running the side of her face, neck, and torso. She was older than the mean average - but her hips were wide and tail thick, telling me that she was strong in the hews. The light blue of her scales touched white in spots, and I thought of distant clouds from another place I'd seen in my dreams. She looked upon me, the eye of a shaman. I had seen her before, but never spoken to her.

She lifted a bowl and held it to my lips, it smelled foul, but I had little choice as she pushed it to my mouth and bid me drink. I did, tasting roots and plants and water that still steamed. My stomach heaved, but settled slowly. I wouldn't vomit any time soon from it.

I sat up with a pained groan, and felt along the clay that held me down - thin but strong, leaching the poisons from me. My head swam again but cleared with another billow of the grey smoke, as I sat, gazing upon this lady healer. I hadn't died, so she must have been good enough to not poison me. I was glad.

"Lives. Good. Giant mystery. Taken many blows. Broke leg, yes. Broke chest. Broke head? Hard head. Is good." She had a musical laugh, which blew like wind and made me giddy for a moment. The grey smoke plumed again, colors fluttering across my eyes as shadows danced. "Taken bad wounds. But, lived. Impressed. Ancestors send as guardian. Keep guardian healthy."

"What happened?" I asked after a long moment, when my mouth didn't feel gummy and my thoughts had cleared up just a little. I still saw colors dancing. "Where are?"

"Special place. Secret place. Place to heal, to egg, to see ancestors. Place of the creche." Women's place. Thefemales place. I felt strangely like an outsider here, and yet, I didn't have much choice in saying no. I gave a shake of my head. "Not blooded in tribe. Is okay. This your egg. You hatch, when body ready and heal."

I laid my head back down, a woven mat made a good pillow, as I slowly sank into where I had been laid.

"Sister? Mute? Chirp!? They good?"

"Chirp! good. Sister gone, stolen in raid. Fifteen of village dead. Lose two elders. Chieftan lose arm, many warriors injured. But could be worse. Dreaded <snarl-hiss-hiss-clickchirp> tribe. Raid. Take females, neuter males, break, steal, sacrifice to great beasts. Force egg on females. Bad tribe." She shook her head out, and stroked a hand on my chest, patting softly on the clay.

"Mute? Mute okay?" I asked, tiredly.

"Mute. Mute took spear in tail. Tail bad. Cut off. Poor male, tailless." She stroked my chest slowly, and pushed a hand up onto my face. "Sleep now. Egg must rest under guide and care of female."

I slept when she blew another mouthful of smoke at me.

Unknown Day, Unknown Time

I've taken to composing entries as I remember them. It is hard to do, my thoughts are hazy about what happened in this time. Some thoughts come clearer than others. I know I was alone for many hours, then brought thin broths, root drinks, and always kept warm and throat wet with water. I could do little to move and less to do but sleep and think and watch the ever burning fire.

Her name meant "Walks on the Shore", but she did not mind when I called her "Shore". She tended me alone, and gave me time to heal and ask questions. I valued the time to ask - it let me learn, and it helped me not to panic and try to go find, to save, Sister. Funny how I had thought of her first, not my cracked shin, not my scratched lung.

"If run, save, go broken. Can save no one, if unable to defend self. Cannot save loved ones, if cannot take spear and axe and slay beasts. Heal, then recover her. Egg cannot hatch until ready." She stroked my face like I were one of the hatchlings, of which two eggs had hatched, revealing each carrying two young. She fed them the same broth and root and meat I had enjoyed, and spoke, sang to them as she sang to me. In a way, it was humiliating. In another, a part of me understood. If I was to join the tribe, I should know it from the begining. "Now rest. Learn."

She told me the story of creation, and how all came to be. I am not a master storyteller, so I will let her words work, as I remembered them.

"In the begining, there was the Mother, who walked in the clouds. The world was newly laid from her womb, and still wet with the juices of its birth. The Mother held the egg and licked the top, blessing it with a kiss and named the egg: "Hissclick-pop" <LIterally: World>. There, she settled the egg into her nest, and sat upon it. But the egg was massive and she was small, so large was this egg, that she needed many to warm it and to keep it safe. She called upon her brothers, Little-Light, Silver-light, Storm-light, Red-light, and Pluon, and bid Them give warmth, to which LIttle Light cried it was not warm enough for so great an egg, and called his sister, Big Light, to show her face upon the egg, and warm it. This is what we see in the night, the five moons who light the sky when the Mother settles upon the egg, and in the day, the great face of our Aunt, when she stands to do what she needs."

I supped the soup while she spoke.

"As it was, the great egg is truly great, and upon t the egg was barren, for there had been no father to fertilize the womb of the mother. But the egg was great and special, and the Mother so desired children to fill her hut up with, and called upon the dark of the hut to bring forth those who would go into the egg, and fill it, and be born as her children. The darkness answered and great holes appeared in it - the lights that dance in the night, the great stars. These were the first ancestors, who answered the mothers call and entered the egg, and bore the yolk within and filled it with male and female both. These ancestors multiplied within the egg and filled it with life - and it was their leavings that grew upon the outside - first the great moss which became trees upon the egg, then the animals who grew uwithin it - and all living things. But the egg was not yet ready, and the mother bid of the ancestors, to send forth their children to guard the egg day and night, and live upon it, and keep it safe and protected. Thus, the first came from the inside of the egg to the out, and live upon it - awaiting the time the egg births and hatches, and we may all join her in her hut, and be her children born."

The soup was good.

"Some tribes forget - and do not know they too are the children of the mother - and make war without mercy. But the Mother would be angry if we did not defend and punish those who dishonored the mother, thus we guard our tribe and defend, and we do not mourn those died, but rejoice that they go back to the egg, to be reborn, and continue to live even after this life is passed. All of us come from an egg, all of us return to one. Thus, the egg is sacred, for it is the past, the future, the now. Thus there is no greater crime but to smash the egg and destroy the creche, and no sadness more than a mother who cannot bare and father who cannot sire - for even he has little eggs."

She eyed me for a moment, and shook her head. Eggs, indeed.

"Think upon this, and dream. Now is the time to sleep."

Unknown Time; Unknown Date - Two weeks later Some time later

I awoke slowly, feeling bodies against me, and around me. In the creche, I was a warmth unlike the burning fire, and I was the great comfort to the small reptiles, who curled against me, huddling and hugging and keeping close. ONe lay across my face, teeth locked onto an ear, chewing lightly - not enough to hurt, but it stung a bit. The other sprawled face down on my chest, leaving me compressed, and unwilling to move. The other two each curled on a leg, making me effectively theirs.

I wanted to complain, but didn't dare wake them up. They bit when they were unhappy, and I didn't think I could protect myself if they went for the 'eggs'. So I lay there, and looked up at the fire, feeling weak and helpless. I wanted to break free, but had to wait. My body itched terribly beneath the clay, especially at my chest and arm, where I recalled being cut. My headaches had passed, so I didn't fear a concussion, not that I could have done anything about it.

"Question always becomes, what name for the hatchlings? We each take a name before we leave, and may change when we take our place in the tribe, baring our marks and our strength and our duties. Each must decide for ourselves what we will do and become, and honor the ancestors and tribe. Who are you, Giant?"

"Charles." I said, when I had a chance to speak without talking up the hatchlings tail end. I gingerly moved him to lay at the crook of my neck, and dared not move any further for fear of upsetting the creature and losing part of my ear. Or face. "Named Charles."

"Harr-lesss." The lizard hissed out. Her head tilted. "WHat mean, Harr-lesss?"

"I don't know. My mother chose it, her grandfather had the name. Uh, one of her ancestors. I don't know, but she gave it to me, and I kept it." I blinked slowly - I was getting used to the wash of colors that accompanied the smoke. I would, of course, get used to it, I had little choice. "A good name, I'm told."

"Strange name, Harr-lesss. Is not you. Need new name. Strong name. You choose name." She stroked my scalp, having shorn the hair off my head, and trimmed most of the beard I'd been growing. The lack of hair had helped, and she'd found it useful in tying into bundles. I suppose mammalian hair would be unique on this world. "Must decide."

"Why not Giant?" I asked, giving her a smile. She cocked her head sideways, and seemed to frown.

"Because, is what you are, not who you are. Am shaman, but not just shaman. Tree is tall, not just tall. Many tree, each tree different. Call all tree 'Tree'? Confusing. There are Giant Tree, Little tree, Vine-Tree. Are all tree, not just tree. Yes?"

Compound names, then. Sister was, after all, "Sister to the Outcast and Forgotten", Mute was "Silent speaker of the Night". And I? I was just Giant. Sister did keep ties with the forgotten and outcast - myself, Mute, she. And Mute was very quiet, even despite his muteness. And who, what was I? An oaf? A creator? A man from the stars?

"What makes you, you? Answer that, and egg is hatched. Then you go, save Sister of the Outcast and Forgotten. Then you come back, take her, join tribe, take mark. For you, mark of the sun - gift from the Aunt."

Who was I? What made me, me? That... That would take some time. My leg was getting better, but not just yet. I had a little time left. It had been possibly two weeks. Another week, and I could maybe see to getting out of the creche. Another week.

I felt the sweat spill down my neck, and laid back, to think.

Unknown Time

This world is timeless

I remove the clay from my leg, and found the skin whole, if stained from clay. I removed it with a blow of my palm and felt no pain, though the muscles were long sore from stretching and flexing the thigh. I did this when the Shaman was out, and pushed the clay off of my leg. I smelled horrible beneath it, but no molds showed, nor did any build up of sweat or stain. The Creche was not tall enough for me to stand in, but I had enough room to crouch and work the muscles of my thighs. The injury was a ragged scar that would always toruble me, but for so terrible a wound - carther light. I gave the leg a stretch, and towered over the fast growing hatchlings, who still clamored over and tried to climb me, to gentle protest when I refused.

I freed my arm with more trouble, SHe had taken her time to clean the wound before closing it with clay - I could see the scar running my forearm - the skin beneath pale from lack of sun. I would need to be careful when I got out - I'd burn if I didn't take care. My arms and legs freed, I worked to break the clay on my chest, and pushed it off, feeling how cool the creche could be without the insulation of the dried earth on my body. I shook the shards off and glanced at my chest, a growth of hair visible on my torso and down to my groin. She'd shaved me. I wonder how she knew to do that?

I touched the scar against my chest, and was amazed how it fit between two ribs - a lucky blow that had nicked my lung, but had not let it collapse. No infections were present either - to which I was most thankful. Maybe I'd thank their ancestor spirits when I was done. It felt good to free of the stonewear, but I felt strangely light, and missed the warmth for a moment. The fire still billowed, undying for its effort.

So I sat and pushed the clay to a pile, and was swarmed by the hatchlings, who explored their big brother and his strangeness. I let them explore and wander over me, each a foot long now, having been growing fast in their time . Their heads were still too large for their bodies, but their brains were quick, and it would be a few months before they knew how to talk. I knew this because I asked. But, despite that, they were wickedly intelligent and curious, and listened to the stories told and played the games permitted in the creche. It would be some time before they left to join the tribe properly, but now, now they were warm, and safe, and always fed fruits and meats.

I'd have killed for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I needed to find a wheat analog, and maybe some yeast.

I held some clay in my hand, feeling the dry shards that broke easily. I held it and watched the fire, rubbing my thumb along it. I was ready to leave, to get a nice hot bath, to do many things. But, mostly, I was ready to go do something, and rescue Sister. I needed her, I missed her, and I worried about Mute. Even Chirp! who I knew very little of, I needed her.

I needed to protect them. I gently kissed each hatchling on the head and bid them sleep, and let them rest near me, in my protection. They rested soon and fell to gentle slumber, their breath quick and deep in their dreams. I watched them for a time, perhaps an hour, then turned, and faced the direction that the Shaman always left by.

I crawled then, towards the way I had seen the shaman leave. I crawled over smooth earth and slick floor - and across well worn stone, eased down over generations. I ascended slowly upwards, leaving the fire and the safe and sleeping hatchlings, and the other eggs unhatched. I crawled from the safety and the warmth, to where the water covered my hands and came up to my knees, and struck me as being near the water. I carried myself carefully through the water that came up soon to my thighs and shoulders, and pushed myself forward, floating and kicking gently. The water eased, I could feel it moving - resisting my strokes. I was tired, but the water felt good, as I let it guide me in the dark. I did not feel panic. I did not feel fear. I felt only determination.

I pushed myself through the water, and then found light at the end of the tunnel, shallow, light, silver as the moon. I pulled myself towards it and felt the water rise up to my chin - but I carried forward, determined. The water grew colder the farther I went, my muscles, long unused, burned from my tiredness, but I was determined, and pushed forward, into the shadow, towards the light that looked so beautiful. I struggled with my own weakness but fought onwards, before breaking through - and into the light of five moons and a hundred billion stars.

I broke free of the cave - and birthed again into the world.

I was, at once, born again.

I lay in the water, my left arm hooked around a boulder, which kept the waters from getting too rough. I lay there, soaking up the moisture and letting it wash over me, washing away the sweat of my body and oils from my skin. I soaked and relaxed, feeling alive and refreshed and without the worries in my head. My lungs gasped of the clear, clean air, not tinged with the smoke and the washing colors. I felt good, fantastic, and as weak as a babe.

"So you leave the egg." A voice called from the dark, and I rose my head up, to look at the Shaman, who smiled down to me. She held a walking staff in hand, adorned with feathers and small stones held by chord. "And you determinedly are born. Mothers proud of hatchlings like you."

"Mother not want my egg." I said in a soft laugh, a half joke, and saw her amusement in response.

"No. Is true. But good to see hatchling come free without guidance - be ready to face world. And what is name of Hatchling? Has chosen?"

"Yes." I nodded my head, looking up into the stars. The five brothers watched me, as I let the water course my chest and chin - washing me free and clensing me in the birthing waters of the creche. The cave, I saw, was very well marked and protected, showing signs of long use, and decorations. It did not take an expert to understand the symbolism of the creche as a womb, and an egg. Even I could pick that up.

"What is it, hatchling?" She slid off of the cave top, and droped into the water, which soaked her cloth and staff. She swam towards me with long, slow pushes that made me wonder if they had not been water based at one time. She drew to me and rested beside me, where I lay my head on a shallow set of rocks. "What makes you, You?"

"Will protect others, do what is right when it hard, will sacrifice self for others, that tribe be strong. Will guard, protect, defend, even outcasts of tribe. See always to do this." I said. My language skills had gotten better, I had idly noted. "So... Protector of Just and Guardian of Weak."

She grunted. "Long name." She chided, but did not seem too upset by it. A lofty goal, but better to dream high, than never dream. She laid her head on my shoulder, snout poking out of the water.

"But. Good name."

Morning - Day

I limped the way back to my lean-to-house thing. I limped there amidst the eyes of many, who had not expected to see me alive - and was greeted as I did so. I walked with a weak limp, but made good time and each step helped ease the ache I felt building up in my unused joints. It was good to walk. I found Mute at the kiln-furnace I had constructed, a good pile of metals around him, as well as a large collection of rock and, I was surprised to find, concrete. The little bugger found what had been missing.

I did not greet him as I watched him work - busying himself with crafting small nails for building, and making use of a better hammer than I had left with. It was made of metal, a darker one than the alloys I typically used. I would have guessed it to be brass or copper, but it did its job no matter what it was. He beat on the metal to flatten it, when he was not taking care to sharpen nails for use. The bugger was a natural.

But he dropped the metal blade he had been working on, using my own as basis, and ran to me, and leapt, embracing me and nearly knocking me flat. He hugged me tightly and squeezed me to himself, his stubby tail flicking madly over his lean flanks. I realized how thin I had gotten from the little meals I had been fed. I was starving. It could wait, as I just held him, and felt him shudder against me in his joy, and thankfulness that I lived. My heart grew, and I held him close, careful not to crush him.

Love? Maybe.

He showed me the blades he had crafted, based off of the one I had left when i had fallen in battle. They were crude and they were poorly done, but to give him credit, he had been the first of his kind to try. Leather wrapped the base and small guards kept hands from getting cut on the crude, sharp edges. They were stronger than stone and far less prone to breaking, and he bid me try one - it cut through leather with more ease than I'd have expected.

He handed me my knife and lifted his own up - a short sword in his hands. I smiled brightly to him, and kissed his snout, then went into the hut, where I found two females. Mute shyly smiled when I pointed at them, but I laughed softly, and instead gave him words of encouragement. It was good to see him taking such risks, and he would be a fierce defender of their eggs.

I took my knife and began gathering leather - to boil it and toughen it, as I had seen many amateurs boil meat. The leather took many hours to prepare as I hunted for extra straps and measured myself for a leather breastplate, thigh guard, and arm guard, as well as getting a crude loincloth like others of the tribe, as I was not going to risk myself when I launched my rescue and counter-raid.

In two days I had made myself leather armor, heavy and thick, but nothing to the clay I had worn before. It took time to get used to the feel and cut down to be comfortable and defensive, but I did it. Leather armor and blade, my pistol and staff hardened and adorned with a metal tip (which Mute had been happy to give me), I was ready for battle, and found the warriors of the tribe waiting for me.

There had been too many deaths in the frequent raids - and I would see them ended, by blade or by word. I grew in strength and set out - to let the scouts and warriors lead me to the rival tribe, and to bring vengeance upon them.

Days later

Upon my brow sat a helmet in the crude shape of a snarling lizard, and from my armor hung tassels of red and beads of white bone. A talisman hung from my neck and my staff had been carved with runes to urge the fates and ancestors to guard me. I believed none of it but wore it anyway, and the helmet, well, a gift must never be frowned upon.

There were fifteen dagger-swords of metal, twenty spears, and ten who could use a sling. Forty five warriors followed me as I walked in my leather armor, which was hot and itchy and altogether protective. We moved in silence, I needing not to talk as I made my way through like a primordial titan. Even the Growlypops avoided us, for I would have slain one with a single gestured of my pistol, and left the ruin where it lay.

I strode strong and hard, and we covered many kilometers a day, before they needed to rest. I allowed them to and slept hard when my head touched the ground, only to awaken when they said ready, and follow them towards the mountains, and the village of the Rival.

It was larger than I expected, and stonework was evident from a distance off. Stones had been gathered and shaped into blocks, and a pyramid rose up when I found a clearing - a pyramid many times my own height, and very wide. It was one of the most primal structures of any civilized race, and had been spotted on many worlds, so I should not have been surprised at this one.

But I was, because the stones were an awful shade of green.

I watched the pyramid with the others, and saw a grand village amongst cleared and broken trees. They had advanced quite well in their time, and I would put them at nearly bronze age, except I saw very little metal, perhaps as much as the entire Village had. I cared not, as I stalked out from the line, and approached the village, and the simple wooden palisade that surrounded it. I hoped the others were taking notes.

"I come for Sister of the Outcast and Forgotten, and will claim her!" I shouted, lifting my spear high, and shaking it in display. Towers stood and shouts were heard, as they pointed at me and my band. "And any who stand in my way will be slain!"

Walking the palisade, which was nearly four feet high and required something to stand on, a bright feathered male stared at me. I could have easily vaulted or kicked down the palisade, but didn't want to start off on the wrong foot.

"Who are you, and why not slay you, Giant?"

"I, Protector of the Just and Guardian of the weak - I from beyond stars and come make right the wrongs done! I hold power of fire and strength of ten! Who you to keep me from what mine?" I replied, feeling the words come natural. I would probably start thinking in the language of the People soon enough.

"Keeper of Gate, weak-protector, son of Fheek-Lizar, Honored of Star-God, slayer of ten Growlypop! Slay you, slave village, take females as own, smash rotten eggs of Village!" He snarled.

I drew my pistol and fired at the gate - setting it to smouldering, then crackling with flame. I had enough talk. And then, I walked up to it and gave it a kick - twice, before it busted down, and stepped through the flickering flames and smoke, to stare beyond. Beyond, to the faces who looked up in surprise and shock, to the faces of warriors, who looked on in a moment of terror. I gazed back, and raised my staff up again.

Then fell when a beam of light slammed into my leg, and sent me crumpling. God damn that hurt.

Who the hell had a laser-pistol?

I looked up and saw a gun pointed at me, and jerked out of the way before he could fire, the beam lancing where I had been. I returned fire and shot through the leather shoulder guard of my opponent, who batted at the flames, then shot back. I was slow to stand, and quick to tumble to the side - returning to a gunfight.

"You bloody idiot. This is my city! This is my place! And these idiots are mine! Do you know how much their hides will go for when I get that damn antennae fixed?!" He shot. I had taken cover against a hut, which exploded at a wall. His gun was a lot fancier than mine, and had a higher kick. My leg throbbed from the burns, and I hurriedly kicked the leather leg guard off. "And some idiot has to come ruin it! Oh, I don't think so!"

The pirate, as I could recognize the clan marking on his shoulder, lifted his gun and fired again, shredding my cover. I wanted to grumble, but dove down. Four shots and he had dozens more. I couldn't keep dodging like this. I shot back - I had eight left.

The city was chaos - the walls burned from my shot, and the warriors I had lead charged in with gusto, attacking their rivals with metal blade and arrows steady and ready. I watched out of the corner of my eye as one of mine, a thin, reedy bastard, lunged and cleaved a head off of a neck. Violent and bloody, but there had been enough raids.

I threw a rock and beaned the pirate in the forehead, he crying out angrily and firing the rest of my cover away, leaving me half exposed. I backpedaled, and returned fire when I had to - striking him in the face. He fell and clutched at his face a moment, then lifted his head, glaring. His face was blistered. I'd left it on wide beam. Damnit!

"For that, I'll skin you myself." He growled - raising the gun up towards me and aiming at my belly. I fiddled with the gun to try and change the setting, and he glowered down at me, then yelped, as a stone cracked into his hand, sending the beam wide and gun out of his range and into the rumble of the house he had demolished. He glared over at a sling thrower, then lunged.

I was fortunate enough to spend a shot to take him in the back of the knee, still on wide beam. The gun wasn't going to accomplish the job, and I tossed it - then rose, pulling my staff and knife. I would fight him hand to hand! I found my strength returning as I brought my staff up and prepared to batter him across the chest with the fire-hardened wood.

He retaliated with a sweep of a weapon drawn from his belt - a hardened rapier. The blade cleaved up and sheared through my staff, leaving me whiffing the air and nearly over-balancing myself. I stumbled, and dropped flat to avoid having my own head lopped off. He had a sword! Damn!

"Nice boots." I said, laying momentarily stunned in the dirt and mud. I swung my staff up to catch him in the thigh, where he tumbled back himself from the blow. I pulled myself up, and swung again - to get the blade nicking across my hand, shearing a finger and taking the staff in half. I grunted - that sword hurt, and brought my hand protectively back. That was my favorite pinky. My hand burned - the blade was a micro-sharpened wonder, like my own knife.

This knife I lunged with - stepping inside his guard and stabbing at him without remorse. He battered me with his fist and gave a growl, when I felt a rib catch the blade, and hold my dagger lodged. I'd got a lung though. He didn't have the benefit of a proper shaman either.

I leapt back from the sword, ducking and weaving, trying to get clear of the swinging weight. He was furious and immensely skilled, and I kept backing away from him - trying to avoid losing anything else. Blood frothed his mouth, as he gasped for a breath, then stabbed at me again. I twisted, and the blade slid across a rib but did not break it. I really was getting tired of bleeding. I slammed my elbow into his arm and held him close, and threw my head forward, to smash into his nose. I struck again, and again, before he pushed me back, and I staggered, landing flat. Without staff or blade, without my pistol, axe, or anything else, I was defenseless, and he took his blade in both hands, and raised it high.

So I kicked him in the groin. Hard. Panic, fear, anger, rage, and pain fueled e, and I brought my reinforced shoe up and caught him just right - making him give a sudden gasp, and his breath caught in his lungs. He swallowed, dry, and his mouth opened to say something, before his arms shook. The blade lowered, and he tried to aim for me with it, but didn't have the coherency as he fell forward and onto the dagger in his chest. His blade clattered, and he shivered, then lay still.

Well that was easy.

I kicked him in the ribs for good measure.

The battle died away with a shock of a fallen star-god, and I pulled his dirty shirt up and used it to try and staunch the bleeding of my hand. I tore the shirt from his body and reclaimed my knife and his saber - and limped back from him, and from the shock of the city warriors.

I stepped back a bit and sat heavily in the ruins of the house, and searched for my pistol, and tucked it into my holster. I'd need a week to let it charge. As an afterthought, I gathered his pistol in turn, and made a quick little strap for it to hang off of. No one said anything as I did so, just tending my wounds. Confusion was the biggest thing. Let them be. I was tired.

"Raid my people? Kill your star-god. Raid twice, who knows, kill everyone else." I said, tiredly, over the din of silence. "Want stolen people. Give. Now."

My hand throbbed rather fiercely. I used a low yield, high-spread beam to try and cauterize the wound, and that hurt like a son of a bitch. The stolen of the tribe were returned, seven of them, and each had taken abuse in their time. SIster was rather round in the middle, a sign of egging, I'd found out in my time. She came to me, a little worse for wear, but she had never given up hope of rescue. A foolish wish, but, I loved fools.

"Give his things." I said, pointing at the fallen pirate. His insignia registered as one of the bastards who had attacked my ship so many... so long ago. The time didn't really matter, the details were simply details, sometimes. "All of. No more raiding River-Folk. Or else."

They were mute. They had no chieftan, no leader. They were without guide, and many of them would be hurt, or worse, in the coming times. NO leadership and no elders. I felt a wave of pity for them. It would create a cycle, I knew. A bad one. I was light-headed.

"All who wish, come follow. Will make better. Remember ways of River-Folk, learn ways of River-Folk. Forget foolish star-god, who make war on all tribes. Made strong, but made dead."

I then stood and walked away, away from the city, away from the folk who followed me, and carried Sister in my arms, speaking softly for her, and her alone. What words were said are private.

Later; Another day

The Antennae was a remarkably simple job to repair - as there was little wrong with it except the battery being fried. I removed it, and set one of the rechargeable-solar-cells in place, and let the signal boost, while looking for broad-band receivers before announcing an SOS. The device weighed twenty pounds, but I had carried it away, with the tools and items and three dozen of the city, who had been convinced, or desperate enough, to follow. I lead them while keeping Sister safe, and kissing her brow every night that we rested. It took five days to return to the village, of simple huts and cleared ways, of spiked ditches and a cave not too far from the sacred river that washed out to a grand lake.

We returned to little fanfare, just a curt nod and business as usual - for they had avenged the fallen, and set a great evil to death. They were not a proud race, and required little to tell them they were great already. I returned and repaired my lean-to house, and watched with a satisfied eye as Mute embraced his sister, and introduced the two females he had claimed. Females did outnumber males three to one, I'd come to notice.

Now that gender was readily apparent.

I lead the newest to the chieftain and elders, who debated and talked and spoke amongst one another, and then decided, yes, they would be permitted to learn and settle with the clan, and become one tribe. Other stragglers would join over the days, weeks, and months - and they brought with them what they had learned.

Like how to ferment fruit. I showed them how to use it to clean wounds. They showed me how to have a very good time.

My finger was lost but the wound was clean, and I had another set of scars to add to my body. I retired the leather and cloth and took no shame in walking bare with them, for they themselves only rarely wore anything but as matter of taste. Their hide was thicker, after all, and could handle what nature threw at them.

I was inducted into the tribe. I was welcomed, and in my own hut, having left the grand lean-to to Mute and his mates, I showed Sister the depths of my passion, while taking care not to harm her egg belly. I was gentle, and she was thankful and eager herself - we worked it out despite our size differences. And then, many days later, she laid her egg and watched it be carried to the creche by the shaman, who eyed my scarred chest, and gave a single nod of approval.

Mute and I also joined houses, and he was more than happy to let me announce that we would be one family - two males and three females, with eggs in every belly. This was not an unknown thing amongst great and close brothers, but not common, either for it meant a sharing of females. Neither Sister nor her brother consummated. I didn't think anyone expected that.

So it goes. I've introduced better farming techniques based off of old lectures from my formative years - and the crops grow straight and well, and food is more abundant. Houses of wood and clay and mud are common now, and the paths of the town are laid with concrete. Metal tools are also common, when I showed them what rocks to look for. The tribe thrives, and a proper wall , a palisade of rock and wood, stands guard against any who would threaten .

All in, life is good.

So, be it as it may, this is the last recording I will be making. I've said everything that I need to. I've the mid-summer festival to prepare for, and if it's like last year, it'll truly be a thing. There is smoke and fire, the introduction of young and claiming of mates, drink and food and new inventions to show and share. THere are dances and songs and games and, when the sun has finally set, there where the tribe unites as one and self becomes subsumed by everything else. I look forward to that too, because I've adapted and so have they.

And I have my children to introduce. No, I'm not the father by blood, don't be silly. But I am their father, in that I love their mother, and care for them and teach them the right ways, as others learn the ways I teach.

So this is Charles Banner, Giant, Protector of Just and Guardian of Weak, signing off and transmitting via antennae. If you get this, relay it to the nearest rescue team. I won't leave my new planet, but I'm sure these people could stand some friends, to make sure no one takes advantage of them again.

May the Mother watch you

Last Transmission; Location in three -light hour distant of Hurian Nebulae; Dispatching Protective and First Contact Services for investigation and Peace-keeping activities, as per Order 1778-997-5 of Pax-Terra Accord of Non-Spacefaring-Rights - ETA: 6 months

(The following is only at the bequest of the commissioner. The state of being canon, or not being canon, is entirely up to you.)

Festival of the Sun; Noon

The sun stood tall and blazed bright, hot and ready, and the sky was clear of troubling rains for a day. The village had gathered and amongst the central fire, they waited, in patience, for the hour to be right. I sat among them, listening to the wind and watching the sky, the canopy over head still, and the sun warming my skin. I was nude, all were nude, and the damp earth was comfortable.

It was mid-summer, for what passed as summer in this hot world. Mid-summer, the time the sun stood longest in the night, the time that the tribe came together, to honor the ancestors before, and to look forward to the long days growing shorter, and the year ending and starting anew.

Drums beat. Stretched leather lay over wooden bases, and sinew held the stretched leather down. The drums beat a thundering pace, making my head swim. My throat was warm from the fermented drinks and my head foggy from the grey smoke that plumed from the fire. It was a good time, and I felt strangely giddy. It was like the Cave of the Egg, though more open. I coughed. Mute smacked me with a foot.

"Sun rises and gaze down on us, we show love to her, and honor her! Let show we strong! Worthy of blessing of heat! Let show honor to ancestors! Let show we worthy of eggs!" The Chieftain stood, beside him the shaman, and both lifted their drinks high in stone and clay mugs. The alcohol brimmed inside and they drank deep, already a bit on the tipsy side, and threw their cups into the fire, which roared with the alcohol and blast with a great ball of fire. "Come! Celebrate life!"

Cheers rose and I joined in. Despite being twice their size, as one of the tribe, I was invited, asked, to join in and to honor the ancestors and give thanks to them, and to the sun. While I didn't follow their faith, it would be rude to tell them that I was not interested. Plus, they had drinks and meat and sweet grass, a feast for the revelers to partake of, and drinks, such nice, strong drinks. My own, a ferment of fruit thrice distilled, was quite a hit, and some were slurry and laughing uproariously for no reason but that they could. It was a time of joy. A time of celebration. A time...

...to notice a hand grabbing me between the legs, and kneading my naked flesh. I grunted, spilling my own great mug, and looked down at the hand of Sister, who squeezed me, and looked up with curious eyes. My mouth opened, as she stroked me. I looked around and found others doing the same, touching and feeling mates, friends, and anyone within arms reach. I looked at her in surprise, and she smiled up in pleasure at my confusion, and my reaction. It was a time, alright.

A time for a good, old fashioned orgy.

Though unspeaking, Mute gave soft grunts as he curled up against me, his back against mine, and he slid his hands back to rest on my hips. I looked back to him and opened my mouth to say something, then groaned, as a hot tongue slid across my shaft, and made my skin tingle. I groaned again as the tongue flicked over my glans, then slid down, licking a long, wet path towards my testicles. Oh dear god, she was good with that tongue. Mute laughed his silent laugh, and his head bumped my shoulder. I looked, as the sisters battled their tongues over his groin in turn. He shivered and squeezed me and I held him back, careful not to hurt his hips. Tat mouth slid and stroked over me, and I watched SIster engulf the tip and wrap her hands and arms around me, and start to stroke. Dear god!

The scent of her warmed my senses, and I looked down, into those luminous eyes, and watched her mouth bob and slide, barely able to take three inches, but giving more than enough effort. I stroked her face and traced my tan fingertips along her soft, blue hide. She was smiling and her eyes closed as she returned to working her mouth, wet hot and slippery, on me. I was too drunk to be coherent.

With care, I pulled her head up and off of me, and turned onto my side, then back - and looked down at her. She climbed up and straddled my chest, her tail brushing my face, and bent herself down to return to work, while I leaned forward and pressed my mouth under her tail and between her thighs, and began to kiss and nuzzle and lick. She had the bitterness of a lizard on her, but I didn't complain, for I knew this taste often, and she never complained about my work. I groaned into her sex and kissed it again, then pushed my tongue up, helping to ease her open with a gentle, sweet push. We had practiced for months, she still was a bit uncomfortably tight, but we made it work.

Mute laid against my side and watched his sister work - his shaft slobbered on and his balls being suckled fast and firm by the loser in that contest. He was looking to be utterly lost in the moment, his face a mask of pleasure and drunken lust - and oh so sweet did he push his hips up, to work. He liked it. I could see why. I smiled back to him as he looked up at me, and returned to working my tongue over his sisters soft, musky heat.

She shuddered when my tongue hit the right spot inside, and clamped down, a familiar pinch on my tongue. I slid my hand along her body and stroked her to encourage her release, and touched two fingers to the root of her tail and pinched - a secret spot that always set her off. Her heat exploded against my face and she hissed out into my shaft, which had swollen. My balls were tight, and my own climax was not far off. She knew, and squeezed me tightly with tongue and fingers, and pumped me hard with her mouth - before I grunted, and surrendered my seed into her throat. Mute hissed amusement as she choked, then pulled off to receive a nice basting on her face.

I gave him a sardonic laugh in turn, when Sister turned, and smeared her cheek on his own. He grunted, but didn't do much else, for his own climax was close. They didn't have much stamina, I knew. I was something of a prodigious, insatiable lover. I pulled my beloved off of my chest and pulled her about to face me, while sitting astride my lap. Her sex was slick and hot against my half masted shaft, and she ground herself against me, helping to stir blood to flow. I was sensitive, but had learned to overcome a simple refractory period with just a bit of effort. Plus, I knew she liked me soft, and found it easier to fill herself. Which she did. I didn't stay soft, in that hot, tight place.

A grunt came from Mute, who fed his seed to his mates, and threw his head back to rest on my chest. I stroked his snout and laid my own head on the ground, watching the strong hips of my mate lift and fall as she stroked me with her innermost heat. So tight and hot, it was slippery and sweet, and I could taste her need on my lips as she set to riding me. I smiled up and held her tail root, fingers playing the spots that sent her to tingling. She liked it. I loved it.

We mated, bred, fucked in the middle of the orgy, my head turning to watch others. Bent before the chieftain, the Shaman had her hips in the air and groaned savagely as the elder mounted and took her with solid, body and necklace shaking thrusts. A large, rotund male, he had the stamina of the warriors he lead, and it showed in how he used the body of his most sacred of healers. Others were in similar straits, snouts tucked under tails and mouths on genitals - I watched two warriors split a female between them, her tail end stuffed as the males sat close and rode her. She was a female I had coaxed to join the tribe, and she was quite a loud one.

Chirp! hung upside down as a strong male suspended her, his hips burying into her mouth and she looking to be in bliss, as his tongue slithered deep. A muscular male, he suspended her as they played, her legs wrapped around his head and his tail high, ass flexing as he fucked her throat. She used her throat. She was good at it. I knew.

"Is fun?" I looked up, a young warrior watching my face, then looking up at the body of my own mate, who rode me hard and quick, half of me vanishing into her. SHe had laid egg and was quite used to such sizes, but still she was so tight, almost like her body was elastic there. I grunted. "May take next?"

"May." I replied, I didn't feel the pangs of jealousy I'd been coached on it, and monogamy was not something the tribe believed in. I had worked on it, and found I enjoyed watching her be rutted, especially by a good, eager male or female. I gave his flank a pat and invited him close, and he straddled my chest and pushed against her, stroking himself as he kissed and nipped at her body. She loved that. I tried to avoid getting slapped in the face by his tail.

I grunted when she clenched down rather tightly, and bucked, raising her entirely off the ground and held her high, pulsing my second cimax into her body. She hissed out loud, her body loved how hot I was inside her. The male stared and his seed splattered my belly when he saw her react so pleasantly to my filling her. Perhaps he knew I couldn't compete. Maybe he liked the thought of her swimming with heat. I didn't care. My mind was hot.

He took her next - barely a word edgewise as he slid into her clutching need. I lay on my back, spent and dribbling for the moment, and leaned in to kiss Mute on the root of his tail. While we were not quite close enough for sexual matters, I knew what set him off. His hips were wrapped by the first of his mates, the other watching the two play together. She was damp and her face was sticky. I bit his tail root as I watched her eyes - and Mute stiffened, his tail spasming and his testicles clenching up. I wasn't into males, but boy, I loved watching one fuck.

Groups split and bonded and split again, hips met hips and flesh met flesh, thighs and mouths and tails wrapping anything close by. My teeth stayed held into the tail root as my shared husband panted and shuddered and groaned. He was viscous little bastard. He liked it when I bit him there. Maybe someday I'd try other things. I'd thought about it. I didn't have the guts to try.

A mouth was on me. I didn't look, merely closing my eyes as I felt wetness squeeze and clean me, then lick away the heat on my loins. A pair of hips straddled my face, and I sniffed once, then slid my tongue out along the rear and thighs of a female. I didn't need to look. It didn't matter. I held her close and worked my tongue over her sex and anus, lapping between the two with eager passion. They had a nice flavor, once one got past the bitterness of lizard. I could keep up this act all day. Once I had until my tongue refused to move.

The day went on - hours of rutting and breeding left me dozing until someone shook me, climbed atop, or presented to my mouth. Mute lay curled against the crook of my arm and held his mates close, having given his seed to three females this night, and taken one male under his tail. He was warm and sticky and tired, but the orgy didn't end with the wane of the sun and cool breeze. No, the fire still roared and bodies still paced - sleepers awakening to find a warmth nearby to take, caring not the name, the gender, the place of the mountee, only that the two consented.

It was beautiful. It was wonderful. I looked upon the stars, and smiled.

I had taken the three females near me, and once they had licked me clean of sweat and semen and their own heat - they curled up against me for warmth, as did four others, three males and another female who had taken all three in effort to test herself. She was quite the little champ, the one-eyed female grinning even as she slept.

Evening wore as shadows grew, and I stroked the body of Sister and Mute, and held them to my chest. Sister was exhausted and dripping - there had been a stream of males, and even a few females, who took her, almost an endless rutting of my bride. Her eggs had been strong and hatchlings healthy, a proof that she was worthy to rut. That, and the fact she could egg so well with such little complication was also because of my breeding her. I'd had a few propositions - but few females carried through. A shame. But, I expected it.

Mute stirred, and lifted his head up to blink blearily, and cuddled up against my chest closer, for just a moment. I looked up at him and welcomed him without words, and he kissed my face, gently. He had learned and the gesture spread amongst the others - a press of the snout to snout, to lips or cheek or anything else. So they learned to kiss. I'd learned to speak.

We kissed for a moment, and he drew himself up onto my chest, straddling and facing me with that curious lilt of his head that meant he was thinking. Looking down at me, then up again, towards the embers of energy that were slowly burning themselves down. He smiled, and lifted a hand, inviting a lovely figure near - that of Chirp!, who smiled down at me, and those who lay near.

Chirp! smiled, and licked her lips. She walked bow-legged and her stomach was swollen, suggesting that she was with egg. Despite such, she still participated, and I lightly stroked a hand on her hip, inviting her to join. She did, and I felt their weight on my chest as their tails entwined, and they enjoyed the warmth. I was content. So very, very content. Even more so, when they coupled right there, and gave me quite a view. SHe tasted good, even when he split her - and their tongues worked me over as they bred, sending the three of us into a content, messy finish. I may have developed a fetish for being licked to climax, then licked clean. It created a cycle I had trouble disengaging from, and they didn't seem to mind. Apparently, I was quite 'tasty'. More eager was Mute than Chirp! but, she was busy being fucked raw, so I couldn't blame her.

He really did have a talented, and eager, mouth. I've come to know this quite well.

To note, the next generation born of this rutting cycle had a curious arrangement of feathers at their brow - a pattern, I noted, suspiciously similar to Mute. He seemed oblivious, but, I knew. And I was proud.

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