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Working in the Grid Gang, Drifter 1230 heard travelers whisper about the great beast living in the caves of Lykenrot and noticed the furtive migrations of drifters in that direction. Ever on the lookout for scenes of wonder and for more opportunities to observe humans in extraordinary circumstances, he offered to help ferry a group to Lykenrot. He would later expounded on what he experienced at Lykenrot through song, story, art, and memoir. Among the many themes he would end up exploring in the years that followed, those of chaos and the orders of magnitude between the size of living things would be two that he would revisit again and again. Legend has it, though, that the day he left Lykenrot his whole notebook consisted of only two words: "tardigrade circus". (by @kennyjacobson) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1230
Drifter #1229 shot first. At least that was the plan. She knew Red Fork trunknecks would enforce their version of calm during the crucial first days of the beast’s harvest, allowing some corporate mercenaries or other to extract as much from the carcass as possible. Fact is, their too-polished presence insisting that only the elite profit from such a bounty was bound to put everyone on knife’s edge. She was counting on it. So when she started hearing the uneasy chatter over the broadcasts, she couldn't have been happier. She was also counting on the inexhaustible greed of one particular chemist to draw him to close to the action. The more gunfire cross-crossing the valley, the higher the chances that Duvall sellout she'd been hunting for so long ended up with extra ventilation in that thick head of his. Hopefully courtesy of the extended twin rails of her Grom 665. Destroy to create. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1229
Working in the Grid Gang, Drifter 1230 heard travelers whisper about the great beast living in the caves of Lykenrot and noticed the furtive migrations of drifters in that direction. Ever on the lookout for scenes of wonder and for more opportunities to observe humans in extraordinary circumstances, he offered to help ferry a group to Lykenrot. He would later expounded on what he experienced at Lykenrot through song, story, art, and memoir. Among the many themes he would end up exploring in the years that followed, those of chaos and the orders of magnitude between the size of living things would be two that he would revisit again and again. Legend has it, though, that the day he left Lykenrot his whole notebook consisted of only two words: "tardigrade circus". (by @kennyjacobson) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1230
Drifter #1229 shot first. At least that was the plan. She knew Red Fork trunknecks would enforce their version of calm during the crucial first days of the beast’s harvest, allowing some corporate mercenaries or other to extract as much from the carcass as possible. Fact is, their too-polished presence insisting that only the elite profit from such a bounty was bound to put everyone on knife’s edge. She was counting on it. So when she started hearing the uneasy chatter over the broadcasts, she couldn't have been happier. She was also counting on the inexhaustible greed of one particular chemist to draw him to close to the action. The more gunfire cross-crossing the valley, the higher the chances that Duvall sellout she'd been hunting for so long ended up with extra ventilation in that thick head of his. Hopefully courtesy of the extended twin rails of her Grom 665. Destroy to create. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1229
Drifter #1228 was in it for the hair. Always had been, always would be. That’s what drove her to track this beautiful beast, or rather its kind, for many seasons, learning its rhythms in order to predict its location at its most hirsute. She had been preparing for this moment as long as she could remember. So many in her Collective had wished for an opportunity have access to the golden mane of the creature they called the Mol Bon. So many were waiting. She wasn't there alone, but she was skilled at looking solitary. At least six others from the MBT Artist Collective had converged on Lykenrot over the week before the Surfacing. Their approach choreographed over decades and their mission clear: harvest the golden mane. Everyone knew you need three hair strands. Not four, definitely not two. But not everyone knew that two of the three must come from the tail and only one from the underbelly. 1228 knew and was there with shears sharp and suit dusty. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1228
Drifter #0689 woke up slowly, but at least he woke up. Praise the Queen. She had given him his assignment just two days ago, and now here he was. Awake at least, and on the surface of Lykenrot. He flexed his hands. Both seemed to be connected to their respective arms, which was a relief. His knees still bent, and even in the right direction. He reached for the customized flaregun strapped to his leg and was encouraged to discover he could move his arm through the slime and ooze. He was covered in it, or rather surrounded by it, but he could at least move in slow motion. When his arm finally reached his side, he let out a half smile. His single-shot Candlestick was safely strapped to his side. He made a mental note to thank the leatherwork boy who’d made his belt holster. Nothing but leather and stone; the best technology was none at all. Even his Candlestick was equipped with as little electrochemical heresy as possible. His first shot — a yellow capsule of concentrated poison — was as simple as it was lethal. He had waited until the creature had almost finished swallowing him to fire, and within a few short minutes the creature’s breathing stopped. It would be impossible for the examiners to trace the worm’s cause of death back to the Queen.
#0689 sent his left arm on the long journey to the three capsules strapped to his right shoulder. After what seemed like an hour, he had fit the red striped explosive slug into his Candlestick. He paused, basking in the knowledge of the part he was playing in the Queen’s brilliant plan. She knew that the blasphemers would flock to the carcass, driven by addiction to their technologies. She knew #0689 would survive the belly of the beast, and would be able to fire one brilliant shot from within. She also knew the Red Forks would be there, many times stronger than anyone would anticipate, so that when the first shots rang out they would be able to arrest as many of the slagheads as they chose to spare from the ignoble deaths they deserved. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/689
The Pyramid Order hadn't sent him to recover lost souls, but it hadn't prevented him either. #0135 would probably never see this kind of opportunity again in his lifetime: the largest gathering of the most vile. His companion, #0688 was technically still soulless, but this one spectacular act, this pilgrimage to the save fallen, might atone for his former life as a merc. Surrounded by a crowd of nearly a hundred soulless, #0135 was in full ecstasy of exhortations, when the first shots rang out at Lykenrot. A few of the survivors claimed that at that point #0135 had vanished into thin air right before their eyes (others cannot confirm this detail). #0688 on the other hand, had a decision to make. His new life hinged on his new oath to protect, but then again, if he survived this, wouldn't he be able to save more soulless in the future? He made up his mind and for the first time in his life, #0688 ran TOWARD the sound of bullets. (by @kennyjacobson) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/135 https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/688
These four drifters were hired to drive livestock to Lykenrot to "open range graze" on the carcass. But was the "livestock" of terrestrial origin or alien...? (by @swyphd)
Drifter #1228 was in it for the hair. Always had been, always would be. That’s what drove her to track this beautiful beast, or rather its kind, for many seasons, learning its rhythms in order to predict its location at its most hirsute. She had been preparing for this moment as long as she could remember. So many in her Collective had wished for an opportunity have access to the golden mane of the creature they called the Mol Bon. So many were waiting. She wasn't there alone, but she was skilled at looking solitary. At least six others from the MBT Artist Collective had converged on Lykenrot over the week before the Surfacing. Their approach choreographed over decades and their mission clear: harvest the golden mane. Everyone knew you need three hair strands. Not four, definitely not two. But not everyone knew that two of the three must come from the tail and only one from the underbelly. 1228 knew and was there with shears sharp and suit dusty. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/1228
Drifter #0689 woke up slowly, but at least he woke up. Praise the Queen. She had given him his assignment just two days ago, and now here he was. Awake at least, and on the surface of Lykenrot. He flexed his hands. Both seemed to be connected to their respective arms, which was a relief. His knees still bent, and even in the right direction. He reached for the customized flaregun strapped to his leg and was encouraged to discover he could move his arm through the slime and ooze. He was covered in it, or rather surrounded by it, but he could at least move in slow motion. When his arm finally reached his side, he let out a half smile. His single-shot Candlestick was safely strapped to his side. He made a mental note to thank the leatherwork boy who’d made his belt holster. Nothing but leather and stone; the best technology was none at all. Even his Candlestick was equipped with as little electrochemical heresy as possible. His first shot — a yellow capsule of concentrated poison — was as simple as it was lethal. He had waited until the creature had almost finished swallowing him to fire, and within a few short minutes the creature’s breathing stopped. It would be impossible for the examiners to trace the worm’s cause of death back to the Queen.
#0689 sent his left arm on the long journey to the three capsules strapped to his right shoulder. After what seemed like an hour, he had fit the red striped explosive slug into his Candlestick. He paused, basking in the knowledge of the part he was playing in the Queen’s brilliant plan. She knew that the blasphemers would flock to the carcass, driven by addiction to their technologies. She knew #0689 would survive the belly of the beast, and would be able to fire one brilliant shot from within. She also knew the Red Forks would be there, many times stronger than anyone would anticipate, so that when the first shots rang out they would be able to arrest as many of the slagheads as they chose to spare from the ignoble deaths they deserved. (by @swyphd) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/689
The Pyramid Order hadn't sent him to recover lost souls, but it hadn't prevented him either. #0135 would probably never see this kind of opportunity again in his lifetime: the largest gathering of the most vile. His companion, #0688 was technically still soulless, but this one spectacular act, this pilgrimage to the save fallen, might atone for his former life as a merc. Surrounded by a crowd of nearly a hundred soulless, #0135 was in full ecstasy of exhortations, when the first shots rang out at Lykenrot. A few of the survivors claimed that at that point #0135 had vanished into thin air right before their eyes (others cannot confirm this detail). #0688 on the other hand, had a decision to make. His new life hinged on his new oath to protect, but then again, if he survived this, wouldn't he be able to save more soulless in the future? He made up his mind and for the first time in his life, #0688 ran TOWARD the sound of bullets. (by @kennyjacobson) https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/135 https://opensea.io/assets/ethereum/0xe3b399aab015d2c0d787ecad40410d88f4f4ca50/688
These four drifters were hired to drive livestock to Lykenrot to "open range graze" on the carcass. But was the "livestock" of terrestrial origin or alien...? (by @swyphd)
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