FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

An introduction.

The following has been translated into Basic as best as my skills allow. Unfortunately some things do get lost from one tongue to another, some things are simply untranslatable. I have done my best to explain everything as clear and as concise as possible.

Scattered across exotic worlds who exist in companion with distant stars, amid races far and wide; disparate and lacking kinship to each other live a strangely common and long existing myth. Unusual it is for a story to be in such uncanny similarity between species, both distant and unknowing of each other that it merits note, and possibly belief. And while these tales are never worldwide news or even something regarded as true in most cases; it is unusual, uncanny even that so many exist. These stories span for many a passed epoch, to just the other week. Sworn to be true, past by tongue and amongst some sparingly bound in book. Stories of such nature that they are rare to find, and rarer to hear. Which makes their common thread even more peculiar. Most are told anecdotally, passed from one to another, yet some, be it uncommon indeed, are of first hand accounts spoken as shaky and disjointed as the war stories of a shell-shocked solider. They all speak of a race of beast, of hunters, who stalk in small parties across many inhabited planets to kill the living and steal the dead. Never noticed by the masses, they seem to appear on any number of worlds with out rhyme or reason, taking their prey and causing terror and spreading fear to those few they meet.

Of course there are many races who are hunters, the Dourr and the Ari'Kato'A for example, but they exist as established civilizations ruling over known territories of space. There are species who hunt others for sport, collecting trophies of the warriors they slay; and there are species who hunt others for food, consuming those who trespass in their lands. These though are avoidable, inhabiting known quadrants of space. They are established civilizations in communication with other established civilizations, trading, warring, engaging each other as societies do. But the beasts in the stories are different, officially unknown and unrecognized they are, essentially, unavoidable. And while it may be fact that you may grow old and gray and never run into one of these hunters, it still is an ever lingering possibility. What has been spoken though has been collected and pieced together, written here in this common tongue a most complete dialogue and understanding as possible.

They go by many different names and titles, but are most commonly referred in multiple different tongues simply as the stalkers. Few have come face to face with these so called stalkers and have lived to speak of it, saving their own lives by coming into some skewed and terrible pact of bondage that benefits only their hunter.

They are said to be a beast who with xenophobic intent sneers down at all life other than their own, so wrought with hate and disgust for it that they isolates them self to the inhospitable corners of the galaxy. Having deemed all below them inferior and nothing more that a resource they seemingly hunt of all sentient species, indifferent to who they are. And while its supposed that could exist on lesser enlightened species of livestock for food, they chose us intelligent life.

Because we fear. Or so the common myths go.

If I were a naive man I would discredit these stories as nothing more than bunk. Nothing has ever been found of these stalkers. No race claims to have found, documented, or communicated with them. No civilization considered them real. From the distant beginnings of these stories no official physical proof has ever existed to back them up, never once has there been a picture, or an artifact, a verified and documented encounter. Only personal accounts, scared minds and mangled bodies.

If I were a naive man I wouldn't be writing this. But I am not. I was one of the unlucky, well, more accurately the lucky I suppose, but that all depends on your perspective. I'm still alive. I had the great misfortune of encountering the stalkers once, and thankfully only once in my life. And it was because of this meeting that I am able to add my own story to the endless list of myths. It was because of that meeting that I devoted my life to recording those stories and creating this dialog to expose these creatures, and bringing them to light.

In a corner of the galaxy far distant from where I am now, when I was younger man I signed up with a mining organization out in quadrant Nova D36c, headquartered on Douver Prime. I was a few years out of university, bored with little to do on my homeworld. I hungered for adventure, I wanted to go out and live and see the galaxy. I had previously made trips to Douver, a nearby star system that had more going on that at home. The Douvadakti were a friendly business minded race, very big in the planet cracking and mining trade. They employed many different races aside from there own as contractors, and I signed up with them on a whim. It was better than sitting at home, my world, being primary agrarian, had little to interest me, and held little future for me. So there I was signed abroad to be a prospector, I packed my bags and have never returned home. I was assigned to a ship and a crew, with in a few days I was on my way. Things went well and we had spent several seasons on different desolate rocks, looking for rare and desirable resources. It was fun, I won't lie, we were out on the frontier of space, free men and women, it was an adventure if there ever was one.

For 3 years it went pretty well. We had had some bumps, the work was hard, but it was rewarding. Life was good. Then we ran into them on this one planet, out of the blue, I'll never forget it no matter how hard I try. I rather not tell you where. The planet was the fifth in its star system, it was cool silica, dusty; covered in sand dunes, with a slightly pinkish sky. The atmosphere was thin, but breathable, it was cold but tolerable. It had two moons, a great purple one that hung low in the sky, always visible locked in a permanent stage of setting over the eastern horizon. The second one, soft and blue in color was both farther out and smaller. During the night it would cross the sky, bright and clear, and was never visible during the day. We had been here for 6 weeks of the tropic time scale, hunting for hydrogen 7 isotopes. Returning one evening to base camp after a long day spent hunting we found it to be ransacked, and our ship sabotaged. This caused us great alarm, not only was this rock suppose to lack even the smallest trace of life, the system we were in too was thought to be empty. We were suppose to be the only living things for several light years.

We took stock of our camp, most of our food was gone, as was most our water. Spilled out on the sands in canteens that had been slashed open. Our ships electrical systems had been most forcibly ripped up and torn out. Ever our reactor core was missing. Several footprint and tracks were littered about the campsite, aimlessly trailing off in multiple directions. Try as we might they became impossible to follow, and we were unable to determine how many creatures had been here and where they went. For the next two days we tried to repair our ship in vain, finding it irreversibly damaged we turned on our emergency beacon and began to wait. There were fifteen of us, and we slept in shifts, with sentries standing watch at all hours. On the third morning in the predawn light, two beings were seen on the horizon. Distant, unrecognizable, we watched them through our ominiscopes. They didn't move, the two of them perched off on their far away dune crest. They seemingly sat there through the sun rise and through the morning. We too unsure of what they were and poorly armed as well, so none of us dared to venture out closer to them. In the noon haze they disappeared.

This continued for the next few days. Their numbers grew, though only slightly, and their position shifted to different dunes and to different angles from our camp. They continued to stay at relatively the same distance, still too far for us to tell what they were, yet too close to us for comfort. On the sixth night we heard them. It was a windy night, a very windy night. The howling voice of fear struck out across the dunes that night, and what was first mistaken as the sounds of the gale whipping across the sands came to be understood as being uttered from the beasts that watched us. It mingled in with the wind, and only an ear listening for it heard it. Distant, haunting calls, very much like the cry of an eagle. No one slept that night. The next morning revealed the horizon to be empty of our watchers. They were gone, no figures to be seen in the distance the entire day. We thought that perhaps in last nights storm that they left. We were mistaken. That evening after we ate and drank our miniscule rations they attacked.

They had waited us out, having left us with just enough scraps of food and drops of water to keep us barely alive. By the seventh day we were weak, almost broken. The harshness of the wind swept desert had worn us down as we waited in futile hope for rescue. I had been resting in the ship with a few weary others when it happened. Outside the silence of the evening was pierced by the sounds of a lone horn in the distance. It started sharp and trill; chirped and honked in quick repeated peaked jabs before slowly bellowing into a great roar, deep and thick. It made the hair on the back of ones neck stand on edge. The horn cut out, only to start up with its tooting honks a few minutes later, this time joined by another distant horn in some other direction. We bumbled out brandishing small arms, joining those who were already out there with our ears turned to the night air. The horns honked and chirped, following a simple rhythmic pattern, several groups of short toots,followed by a great deep bellow that melted into a deep droning buzz before bellowing again. A third was sounded, and they played in symphony, the horns chirped and honked and chirped and honked, shrill piping followed by deep bleating droning roars. They were strange horrible calls, calls I don't think I'll ever forget. They buzzed in such a way to make your teeth chatter and made your skin crawl. It bothers me just to write about of them.

This went on for a good half hour in no real particular manner, the whole crew was outside at this time, listening with the few rifles and pistols we had charged. We scoured the dark night beyond the lights of our camp for any sign of our musicians, but they remained unseen off in the depths of the wastes. When the calls of the horns were all said and done, the lingering fear that they left was thick and apparent. A few of my friends were crying, going on about how they were all going to die, while others tried to reassure them that we would be rescued. Another of the group had begun yelling and cursing out into the darkness, ranting in boiling rage at the ghostly horn players. I remember clearly he kept scream 'come get us already you bastards, come fucking get us' weeping, almost to the point of throwing up. A couple of the others grabbed him and brought him to one of the benches. They did their best to calm him.The entire camp remained on edge, ears perked and waiting for the calls to return.

They finally did about 20 or so minutes later but this time they were close, they were right on top of us. The horns cut the night with their sudden bellowing roars, which were this time accompanied with shrill squawking and sharp cawing as shimmering creatures clad in tan rags and wrapped in cream bandages seemingly appeared from nowhere from all sides. It was almost as if they burst from the sands just outside the reach of the camp lights, some even came in from over the top of the ship, jumping down into the group. Some brandished long spikes, some had wicked looking hooks. All had two large raptor like talons, one on each foot. They attacked with great ferocity and acrobatics, their movements quick, jerky and random at first glace; they jumping at us, rolled, stumbled and wobbled about in a strange drunken war dance like wild fury. Their combat, though, was subtly very fluid, very well thought out, akin to a skilled martial artist. The combat outside was sudden and gruesome; they slash and tore and dug into the flesh of my friends, dodging their attempts to defend them selves with skill. The creatures seemed to toy with us during the combat, they grappled, wrestled and overpowered us easily. They threw us about, even bouncing a few around between them, biting, slicing and digging their talons in to the soft tissue of those who resisted. They wielded their spikes with great skill, like some sort of fencer, I watched as they plunged thrust after thrust into the gut and chest of their targets. Those with the hooks were worse, they fought in a hand to hand close quarter style, using the hooks to grab at limbs, pull a leg out from underneath you, digging in and cutting tendon and muscle.

Some of us managed to put up some sort of defense, I saw one of my friends wheeling a spade like a bat, swinging wildly at the creatures. He actually hit one pretty good and knock it to the ground, but the victory was short lived. Several others subdued him and dragged him screaming into the dark, the creature that had been hit got up and taking the spade, followed after them. A few other of us, including my self were shooting at the attackers who dodged and weaved and jumped about. I saw quite clearly several of them absorb blaster fire. I my self lined up and let go a shot right into the ragged and bandaged covered chest of one of the beasts who charged at me. It stumbled back, and I could see almost a pompous grin flash across its visible mouth. It looked down at its chest, a frosty blue colored syrup, its blood had started to slowly pour out. It swept its hand up it, smearing its own blood up its chest, throat and under its jaw. It shrieking out a great squawk and again charging forward like nothing had happened. I dropped my pistol and with a few others fell back into the ship as fast as we could, falling over each other, writhing, shrieking and crying in such horror and in such fear only known to those who stared into the mouth of hell.

The attack was quick and brutal. But the worst part was still to come. Ten had fallen outside, four of us had made it into the ship, and one, had been subdued outside. Those alive in the ship, still screaming, still trying to get away were quickly apprehended. They burst in after us, squawking and calling in loud birdlike cries as they pounced upon our pile of squirming petrified bodies and yanked us apart. They beat us into submission, with strong fists, elbows, claws and knees; breaking noses, smashing out teeth, blacking eyes, they sliced and they cut and tore at us viciously. They broke many of my ribs and smashed my ankle backwards as they dragged me from the ship. The others didn't fair much better. Before we knew it we were outside, bound in the blood soaked sand, still being beaten. But finally they stopped and let us scream and writhe in out bonds, shortly there after I fell unconscious.

I woke up sometime during the morning, the first thing to strike me was the rank and pungent smell of death. It always smells the same, and once it has licked at your nostrils you never forget it. I tried to see, my eyes so bruised and battered that the light seemed like blinding lamps. I couldn't talk, and aside from the rustling of the sand all that was audible was the hushed and frantic praying of my friend to my left, and the hopeless weeping of my friend to my right. The fourth had died of his beatings sometime while I was unconscious and lay still bound face down in the sands to my far right. I could hear the beasts, they clicked and chirped and squawked like some sort of odd bird, constantly chattering in a language I'd never heard before. I could barely see them from my position, my limbs all bound behind me, and I face down. I lifted my head as far up as I could and through squinting eyes could only make out fuzzy black blobs against the glaring white light. It took me several hours to regain my senses. When I could finally see again, it had become mid afternoon, the monsters became more clear.

They stood about the size of an average being, perhaps 6 feet tall at most, scaly legs and forearms, with large talons on their toes like those of a raptor. They looked to be covered in tan and pink feathers, but most of their features were obscured by the rags and cloths they had adorn them selves with. Blood soaked as they may be their garb resembled that of nomadic desert wanderers, their face wrapped, cloaks draped over their shoulders. Primitive belts hung around their waist's and across their chests, and from them hung pouches, hooks, cleavers and knives. The creatures strut in a birdlike fashion, they bobbed their heads slightly, stretching their neck out and tilting their head about to look at this and that.

I gazed around as best I could and saw that those who died last night had been gutted, hung up on the sides of the ship to drain them of their blood. Viscera, limbs, scraps of clothing and equipment were scattered about, and the monsters strode over them with out any care or interest. Several were busily eating lumps of flesh and tissue that had once been my friends, others were seemingly engaged in soft conversation, while others still, I'm convinced, were engaging in sexual activities amid the blood and carnage. I spotted the fifth member of our party, who the night before had been dragged out into the dark. There were two picnic like tables in our camp and he lay on his back on the ground, his head leaning up against the bench of the table. There was rope binding him to the bench by his neck, and aside from that he was unbound. He simply lay there sobbing, his arms held up in front of him. It took me several moments to realize he no longer had his hands, just bloody, bandaged stumps. Next to him in the sand was the spade.

Soon they turned their attention towards us, and until dusk they did upon us great acts of torture so brutal and so violent I shutter to think back on them. When they were done we lacked our teeth and our mouths had been packed with sand. Our ears had been cut off, our cheeks slice, we were missing toes and fingers, and all the nails having been ripped off. More bones had been broken, carefully and slowly, these creatures were experts at inflicting pain, it was their trade, and they were grandmasters. They did things to us I will never forget, and I relive time and time again in my dreams. I find my self too sick to write some of the worse things down. They're better lost to history. As it grew dark they seemingly grew bored, and stopped with their torment. While the others begged for mercy, through bloody mouths full of sand, with split tongues and cut cheeks I instead begged for a deal. I knew that no mercy would be shown but I begged and cried for a deal. I'd barter anything for my life.

As it was a stroke of twisted luck these beasts were interested in taking me up on my deal request.

Probably assuming they could make some twisted game of it. One of them crouched down next to me, grabbed me by the fur on my head and lifted it up to the level of his own. He tilted it towards me, as if pointing an ear in my direction, and clicked softly and steady. I remember his words clearly, to my surprise the bird sounding beast spoke in a soft, if not broken and heavy accented, basic dialect akin to our own.'Well..' he softly chirped 'What was that you say? You wish to barter for your life?" He shot me the most wicked of smiles and dropped me back down to the sands. He returned to his brethren, whom spoke in hushed clicks and squawks. The others started to scream and cry out for a deal as well, but their calls went unheard. These monsters were apparently only interested in making one that day.

He returned to me with a large knife, and thinking it was the end I squeezed my battered eyes shut. To my surprise the beast cut my binds, and then grabbing me under the shoulders dragged me away from the others. They flopped me across one of the benches of our camp, and left me. I panted and panted, shaking and trembling, my body in spasms of pain and shock, but on the inside my terror slightly quelled. The others still screamed out, until another of the beasts went over to them and shoved their faces into the sand. The creatures sat me up and with a bloody rag cleaned my eyes and my wounds. Not gently, no they ground and dug at them but as rough as it was they cleaned my face, and wrapped and bound my injuries. I was petrified, unsure of what sort of hell I may have brought upon my self by begging to live. But I though, maybe I did have a chance.

They let me rest as they quietly discussed amongst them selves and ate of the dead and rummaged through our belongs and equipment. I watched one creature got up from where he sat in the sand, and in casual passing strode by my hand-less associate. They had left him alone all day, but in simple passing, the beast took from his belt a long cruciform spine and thrust it into his chest and continued on his way. He gasped and sputtered and tried to grip at the spike with his bloody stumps, frantically flailing them at it. The creature went and rummaged through some storage crates for a few minutes, finding nothing of interest he passed back by and as casually as he stabbed it in, snatched it up and out of my now dieing associates chest. That was the last I remembered of that day, passing out again they let me sleep through the night.

Early the next morning I was awoken with a mighty slap to my face and a shrill squawk. I jolted awake, and froze in fear as I sat up, unwilling to make any move. The other two much to my surprise were still alive, though barely. The hand-less one was now gone and the other bodies had been removed as well, to where I remain to this day unsure. But it looked as if they had been drug out into the wastes. There were fewer beasts there this day. Four in total. One grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me to turn in my seat and sit at the table the bench was a part of. Across from it sat one of the beasts, his head unwrapped from its cloth. His head was wedge shaped, with two perky pointed ears, and four shimmering eyes. The two biggest looked normal, behind them and slightly above were smaller, frosted over looking eyes. He lacked any noticeable nose, and had two strange tendrils that draped over its snout and hung below its jaw. The beast was clearly related to some sort bird, bright crimson and pink feathers covered its head and most of its tone lean body. He rest there with hands together and elbow bents, making soft bird like noises at me.

Again I remember its cold voice once it spoke, our conversations as clear in my mind now as when we spoke then. "You desire a deal to keep you life" he stated "We demand flesh for flesh" he paused to make more odd noises, and flashed a grin, his lips curling to reveal cog shaped interlocking teeth. "You wish for you life you will do as we say. Understand?" I nodded, trembling. "You must be hungry, thirsty..." He seemed to smile at my suffering, almost sympathetic and caring in its tone of voice, and then I swear he silently chuckled. I nodded again, "Let me hear you" he stated firmly. I coughed, my voice little more than a croak "Yes.. yes I'm hungry and I'm thirsty" The beast leaned back and snapped his finger. There was movement behind me, but I dare not turn to look, from over my shoulder one of them reached out and dropped a small bucket in front of me. Fluid splattered out as it clanged on the table, spraying across my face. In horror I slowly looked down into it. And with that I burst into tears.

The creature who sat across from me yelled eat, and slammed his fists on the table. It was either eat or die, so I ate. The meat was fatty, and smelled horrible but I hungrily dined. The fluid it soaked in, the blood mixed with water quenched my thirst even though I gagged. I did all I could to not think of its source as it could have only come from one place. Again, this act was as much for their sick pleasure as it was part of the deal. If I were to live I had to eat something, I had to drink something. In the back of my mind I thought that they were trying to break me, to cause me to break the deal, that notion only made me more steadfast. I regret all I had done to stay alive, but I did what I had to.

After my meal, the bucket was taken away, the creature who sat across from me had watched me eat with a smirked. He gestured to another who lurked behind me, whom dropped a large stone, about the size of a sports ball in front of me. I looked at it, and then slowly looked up at the beast in-front of me. He placed his hands on the table and leaned in close, whispering in my face "pick it up, and get up". I did as he said, he then stood and came around the table to my side. He put his arm around my shoulder, turned me and walked me over to where my two friends lay, still bound, still face down. One of the other creatures had recovered another large stone, and lifting one of my friends head, placed it underneath his chin. The creature with his arm around my shoulder led me over to him, and forced me down on my knees in front of him. Holding me by the back of the neck he pointed to him, and uttered but one word. "Smash"

When the task was done, they moved the stone underneath the chin of the other and ordered me to do it again. I was so numb, so sick that I threw up most of what I had been forced to eat. They laughed. When the grim task was finished I remained there on my knees, sobbing. One of the monsters pat my head. "Good" he said, a sick but happy affectionate tone in his voice "Flesh for flesh"

I left the stone in the sand, and was taken back to the table. The beast sat back down on the other side and we stared at each other. Behind me the bodies were dragged away, and the other creatures seemed to have left with them. I don't know how long we spent gazing at each other, his eyes cold, piercing, almost as dead as I felt inside. It was just us two now. Finally he spoke, "Go ahead, speak candidly I know you want to. Say as you please... there will be no reparations." He smugly tilted his head to one side, his words interspersed with clicking and chirping "Your life is yours now" It took me some time to gather my wits, and after a big gulp I laid into him.

I cursed and I swore and spat, I called him everything I could think of, using every crass word in my vocabulary, and even some I'm sure I made up on the spot out of rage. All the while the strange beast sat there, looking at me, a bored glaze across his face. He yawned as I continued my rant, propping his head up on one hand, his elbow on the table. I don't know how long I ranted and yelled, but I did so until my voice grew coarse, and my throat dry. All he said at the end of it was simply "are you done?"

Sometime during my rant I had stood up and was leaning over the table at him. His calm words struck me and all I could do was blink, and slowly sit back down. "Do you think I care about you? Care about your suffering? Your pain? Your Plight?" He was now leaning in at me, his face right up in mine, his breath thick with meaty odored. "Your right.." he whispered, leaning back. "I love it, I revel in it. Your fear, your hate, your disgust. I gives me a great feeling of pride, it gives me a reason to exist." As he spoke hate, loathing hate boiled inside me. I was nothing but a pawn to him, a toy, part of some twisted game. "Your filth." he flatly stated "Naturally evolved sub-species filth. You, your kind, your species and races with your imperfections, your sicknesses, your old age. Your differences disgust me, and my kind, you pale incomprehension to us. To our perfection." his words hanging on his tongue, hissing and almost fading away.

I didn't know what to say, though enraged with hate I held my tongue fearing the anger he may strike back with had I tried to argue or worse yet, strike out at him. "Let me put it to you in layman's terms. We were designed to be perfect. The apex life form, a step down from the gods them selves. And you better remember that for the rest of your days. Be grateful, you've been graced with gazing upon perfection, and gifted with keeping your life. Know your place, evolved scum, your life serves no greater purpose than to feed and amuse us. Go on your pitiful way, crawl back to your filthy life, in your filthy societies and civilizations. Just.." he paused as he got up, shooting me a contented smile and wink. "don't forget me" He turned away. I watched him strut his way out of camp, wrapped his face up and flipped his hood up, he slowly disappeared into the shimmering wastes. I sat there after he vanished, for how long I don't know. I was in complete shock, I vaguely remember anything that happened before I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and from mental distress.

I came to by the shaking of a medic, the beacon had worked and a rescue party had shown up, I don't know how long it had been since the creature left. I gazed about the camp in a fog and found that all was gone, everything. No blood, no carnage, no bodies. Everything was clean and washed down, and while equipment was still strewn about all evidence of the violence that had occurred here was missing. The beasts had taken everything, and left no sign that they were ever even there. I was the last soul left. They took me back to Douver Prime and asked me what happened. I told them what I could a broken and fractured account of what had happened. They didn't believe me, waved it off as some sort of PTSD related insanity and official decided that we had attacked by bandits. Pirates were know to occasionally have wandered through this quadrant. They asked how I had survived, how I had been bandaged and tended to after being so brutally wounded. I just shrugged and said I didn't know. There was no further inquiry, they never found any trace of the others. They found nothing and after 3 months searching gave up. A bounty still remains unclaimed for the bandits responsible.

Its been many years since then, I spent a lot of time in the hospital and in institutions, I have a lot of implants to replace what was stolen from me. While I still am mangled and scarred I am mostly whole again. Though the memories and nightmares remain, they slowly have subsided the longer I have worked on this tome. I gave up mining and became a scholar. I devoted my life to learning all those whispered stories, those first hand accounts, and I remembered clearly what that beast spoke to me. I've translated as much as I can, I've written all there is to write. I spite him in his judgment that I lacked purpose, I devoted my self to remembering him. I present to you here my life's work.

~S.C. Zborov

End part 1