Maybe I should have posted in the Ancestor thread. Anyways I decided to do a quick writing that was autobiographical about the Gatherer (Yazidi's ancestor). It ended up a lot longer than I imagined:





All I wanted in my youth was to become an abhorristorian. I wanted to discover, record, and discuss history and new theories of the past. I buried myself deep into books. My lusus believed it was a worthy cause; it created a strong and elegant mind.

However after spending nights and nights buried in words, my lusus demanded I do more physical exercise. I heavily protested this idea. How was I to discover new things? There was so much to read! My lusus would hear none of it and thus I started to learn the fine art and beauty of dancing.

I did come to enjoy it and as I grew older I used this time to meditate on my readings. Allow my mind to wander as my body took control. Yet dancing was just something I was doing to appease my lusus. My real importance lay in books. In the end it was a cruel twist of fate where the opposite became true. It was dancing the later saved my life.

I dug as deep as I could into the Alterian Empire Libraries. Even though I was a blueblood and could access deeper levels than most, I was still barred from the deepest levels. It was there I first met Fourmind as she herself studied trolligoly, and hematology. She was looking up old records of scientists and doctors, while also looking into old myths about the troll body. Our research overlapped a bit, and we could assist each other. She assisted in getting me books a bit deeper in the library, while I recommended books that might be of interest to her.

We both started to feel pale feelings for each other and both discovered interests away from the books. I liked the dance, and she liked to sing. I could feel our romance deepening. Yet as our research we both hit the same problem of running into texts that were banned, illegal, and the authors and researchers executed.

Why was this? How I could discover the lost secrets and social evolution of our people without being able to read back far enough? I decided to set out into the world. There had to still be something surviving that the Empire hadn’t gotten its hands on. Maybe personal documents were still left from these culled researchers.

However this meant that Fourmind and I went our separate ways. Her research and education didn’t allow her traveling into unknown places. I ventured out alone and eventually met Eastgrip the Navigate. A friendly lowblood troll who owned a decent sized boat. It was almost void of all technology as the Eastgrip had the physic ability connected to magnetism. He had an internal compass and was able to navigate the domain of the seadwellers in stealth.

We searched deserted and rocky islands, traveled up rivers into deep forests, walked across deserts, and stumbled through the underground caverns avoiding the drones who protected the young grubs who lived down there. We had a stumbling block of not being able to search underwater, and through this dilemma we had a chance encounter with the Chiseler.

She was a seadweller out looking for new stones and precious materials to create carvings out of her. Despite being a saltblood, she was rather friendly and became enthusiastic in our cause. She offered her help mentioning she could still continue her pursuit of precious rocks while helping us find old ruins or ancient hives that might contain a lost tablet or carved words. In retrospect I should have asked her perhaps to look into the libraries, but we rarely came close to civilization.

After a time the three of us went our separate ways, each needing to return the real world. It was as I returned to my hive I discovered the murder of my beautiful lusus. Injured while on a flight, she had dragged herself home. Her teal dried teal blood smeared across the floor and pooled around her body. I was distraught and heartbroken.

I somehow found myself at the hive of Fourmind, who gladly took me in. There I learned that other trolls were losing their flyingbeast lususes too. I reached out to one or two lived nearby, but then the reports increased. It wasn’t just flybeasts but any type of beast and lusus. What started out as one or two trolls talking about their lost lusus, was slowly growing in numbers.

Soon new trolls started showing up not because of a lost a beloved lusus, but a lost of a fellow troll. Their matesprit, moirail, or kissmessis had been brutally slain. They were all landwelling trolls, and all the reports stated a seadweller was behind this. A very high ranking seadweller called the Regalant.

Of course the grief had its violent tendencies as fights often broke up against the grieving trolls. This energy was soon focused towards those who had done them wrong: the Regalant and through association the seadwellers. A call of revenge came was cast. One seadweller couldn’t withstand a horde of angry landwellers.

At least that is what they thought when the rebellion began.

The seadwellers weren’t too kind to landwellers coming into the terrority. The bitter blood feuds of people came to a head bringing out the violent and racist nature of our people. Highbloods and seadwellers flocked to one side demanding those of lowblood know their place. The other side demanded justice for the loss of their fellow trolls and their lususes.

Fourmind joined me in the rebellion. She had become known as the Conjurer by then due to her experiments. It was early on when a glass vial had broken. She had cut herself on a piece, yet didn’t have time to clean it up as she was off to attend a briefing meeting on the next attacks towards the sea. It was a heated debate and Fourmind was energetic on her opinion. She clenched her fists and banged against the table, her blue blood splashing amongst the gathered crowd.

Her speech was beautiful and moving. I know my people are a violent one often more of actions, but we are also a beautiful race full things that move us like Fourmind’s speech that day. The fellow trolls saw her splattered blood as a determination to the cause. She was willing to spill her high blood for those of much lower bloods. Another troll, I do not remember who it was, took a piece of glass and sliced their hand open. They shouted their loyalty to the cause. One by one others followed in this example.

The Pact of Glass was formed.

Yet the rebellion drug out. Luckily the Empress was away focusing on the capture of a new planet, one that seemed to be tricky to bring to order. The empire’s drones and forces as well as the Imperial Condescension’s eyes were aimed else where than their home planet of Alternia.

I met many others during this time, and even old friends. Eastgrip came into the service of the rebellion, using his ship to patrol and launch attacks in the water. I once again saw the Chiseler who had been angered by the Regalant’s symphonizers.

I can still clearly recall the first time I saw the Painless and the Wordless. Two trolls who looked like they had emerged through time. They looked like the forgotten ancestors of our people wearing masts made of skulls and their long wild hair. They lived up to their namesakes. The Painless was a healer who specialized in herbal medicine, something that helped a great deal when we didn’t have access to the medical drones and facilities. Yet the two were also very quiet, with the Wordless never speaking at all.

Was when I was walking amongst the wounded I met the Searcher. A low blooded troll who had been found almost beaten to death. He had barely survived but now couldn’t remember his past. I took him to the boards where trolls plastered messages to public. Fliers bore pictures asking if they had seen this troll, their matesprit. Others asked if there was any news from the hives of the forest. Others were notices of death of our fellow rebels.

For several days afterward I saw the Searcher standing in front of that board reading every flier. He looked for some note that would talk about him. He eventually finished with the board and I offered him my own small private space where I still kept my books and research. It all laid untouched and forgotten since the rebellion. The Searcher dived right into it.

Through all of this I still had Fourmind. Our romance had deepened into a deep dark red. We were matesprits. She was my happiness through that dark time.

I wasn’t completely stationary within the rebellion. I went on missions, mostly related close to our bases. I went out into mine fields and various other seadweller traps. My dancing served me well being able to be light on my feet and move quickly through hostile environments. I would collect supplies and information or send out reports to trolls waiting in the shadows for me.

It was during one of these trips where I was returning to our main base. As I came upon it I discovered the camp in madness and fire. We had been discovered and the seadwellers were attacking. My heart lurched only thinking of Fourmind and I ran blindly into the madness slipping on the multicolored blood. But it was all in vain.

As I reached where Fourmind was stationed Eastgrip grabbed me and pulled at me. He shouted I should go no further that Fourmind was lost. I noticed the deep blue blood on him and let out a wail of despair. My conjurer was lost. I was lost.

Eastgrip dragged me out of the flames that burned away at the last of the rebellion. When I collected my senses we were on his ship alone. We sailed in silence for days, slinking through marshes and shallow rivers to avoid the seadwellers. It was all in vein.

As I slept Eastgrip tied my hands together. I awoke started and demanded he undo the restraints. He lifted me up and placed me into a barrel. I screamed at him as put the top on, shutting me in darkness. I heard him shout at me that I needed to be quiet. A seadweller patrol had spotted us and there was no way we were getting out.

He pushed the barrel over the side of the boat. I was adrift. I sat in darkness slowly bobbing and moving to ocean waves. I just imagined wasting away inside, slowly withering away.

After hours of darkness I felt a sudden lurch of my barrel. The barrel was grinding up on sand. I was weakened and thirsty and it took all my strength to break the top off the barrel. I found myself on land.

My life became a blur. I almost cared not about living, but continued to do so. I had lost everything. Fourmind, Eastgrip, the rebellion, my lusus. Nothing was left for me.

Huge bounties and demands for the culling of rebels was heard everywhere I went. Bulletins plastered the faces I recognized. Many baring a red X across it. My heart despaired, but I persevered.

I disguised myself as a man, chopping my hair off, and moving throughout the land as a traveling dancer. I hid my blood color as best as I could, avoiding all signs of my blue blood. My dancing had always been something private, something I had only shared with Fourmind. No one was looking for a presumed low-blooded dancer trying to make ends meet on a street corner.

It was during one such dance a group of seadwellers stopped to watch me. Fear raced through me believing I had been discovered. If I was going to be dragged off I was going to finish my dance. I would go gracefully. Once finished I stopped and faced the group highbloods who were most likely a patrol fishing out hiding rebels.

It was a twisted piece of fate that I would be brought to the Regalant’s palace to perform during his victory celebration. The seadwellers thought I was good entertainment of a how pathetic and useless the lowbloods were. Those of saltblood are not known for their kindness and mercy. I let myself be dragged away, thinking my end would only be fitting at the hands of the Regalant himself.

I was brought to the grand and cold palace of the Regalant. I trembled at the sight of so many highbloods in one gathering. The Regalant sat in a throne-like seat at the far end of the ballroom. I could barely see him; he was nothing more than a dark form. I couldn’t even make out the person responsible for the death of everything I held dear.

As I was being brought forward a silence fell on the crowd. My body only grew colder and fear grew in me. My death was about to fall. Yet the eyes weren’t on me. Everyone was looking to the other side of the room where a group of seadwellers were walking in carrying a large box.

At the head of this group was a lady seadweller who announced herself as the Dominion once she reached the circle clearing in front of the Regalant. I recognized the name. The Dominion had been a personal pawn of the Regalant himself. She turned to the group of watching highbloods and told them she had prepared a gift for the occasion.

She gestured towards the large box being carried. They opened the box and tipped it over. A sloshing noise of water hitting floor was a heard. The crowd was making murmurs of excitement. A shifted a bit and got a view of what laid on the floor.

In a mess of watered down orange liquid a large lump laid by the feet of the Dominion. My heart pounded as the orange color gave away that it was blood. The Dominion kicked the form at her feet. She clapped her hands and the ones who had been carrying the box came and dragged the orange troll up by the arms. At least what had been left of the arms.

The troll that now was being pulled up for all the highbloods to see was falling apart. His flesh with huge gaping holes, some of it clearing just sagging off his body. The muscles and bones were visible and some organs seemed to be slipping out from his gut. Chunks of his face were missing as the lips, nose, eyes, and ears seemed to have been cleared away.

The Dominion explained that this troll was a worthless landdweller that had betrayed the rebels. It was this troll that had revealed the location of the main base to the rebels and had secured the victory for the seadwellers. In return for his services they had awarded him to become a seadweller by throwing him into a tank of small flesh-eating fishbeasts. In a mock-regretful voice the Dominion explained that the orange troll had not been able to find a fish lusus among the many present in the tank. The crowd laughed.

I could barely breath as I was dragged off to a room set aside for the entertainment. I remember crouching in a room amongst other low-blooded landwellers when they dragged in the eaten troll from before. Throwing him on the ground stating to the seadwellers watching over the room he was being saved for later.

I stared at his hands where the fingers had been chewed off leaving a few lumps of bone sticking out. He suddenly shifted making a groaning noise. He continued to groan in pain and it got louder and louder. I could barely take it so I looked away.

But the groaning didn’t stop, and as I continued to listen to it almost seemed to say “Ggggrrruuu . . . uulldddd . . . gggaaavvv . . .” I stopped breathing as the moaning repeated, the same noises been repeated over and over. I looked over at the troll. My body went numb.

Eastgrip.

It was Eastgrip the Navigate. He had been calling my name. Why didn’t I realize it was him. I should have guessed by the blood color earlier, but he was so unrecognizable. I crawled towards him. Light teal tears running down my face. My emotions ran through constantly changing from anger to sadness to despair to happiness.

I cradled his head in my lap staring down at the empty eye pits where his eyes had been eaten out. I couldn’t understand how he knew it was I, but very slowly he lifted his hand. He placed it on my chest. He patted it a few times and the arm fell. He was too weak.

I was completely unaware when the Dominion stepped into the room. Her men grabbed Eastgrip and dragged him away. The Dominion had stopped to look at me. My blue tears smeared across my face. Her icy stare at once seemed to assess who I was. My blood color declaring who I was despite my disguise.

She flashed a smile of sharp teeth. She said I shouldn’t cry for the fool who had betrayed the rebellion over jealously. I looked up at her. She continued, each words slicing like a knife into my heart. The Navigate had deep red feelings for someone named the Gatherer who was already in matesrpit with the Conjurer. He had turned to the seadwellers, turning into a traitor. He worked as a spy, revealing the rebellion movements and eventually the base. All so he could have the Gatherer. Yet eventually she had tracked him and his ship down, but there was no one else on board.

In the end it was all very pathetic, as the Dominion had worded it. She stalked away marching right through the orange blood that had pooled and smeared across the floor. I laid there crying and sobbing for a long time. I’m not sure how long I was there, but I was never called upon to perform. Eventually I was dragged out of the palace and dumped on some beach. Why they hadn’t just threw me into the sea I couldn’t guess. I would have welcomed the cool water pouring down my windpipe.

But like before when I found myself on the beach after the barrel, I got up and pushed forward. I started to walk and walk. I never seemed to stay stopped for long.

As I walked across Alternia I had plenty of time to think. The words of the Dominion echoed in my head of Eastgrip’s action. It wasn’t until many sweeps later that I realized what Eastgrip had done that night he threw me into the barrel. He had placed a magnetic point on me using his physic powers. He had used that to push me towards land so I wasn’t cast out to float in the sea. He had kept that magnetic point. He had never let it go while he was floating in a tank of fishbeast ripping him apart. When he had been brought together at the Regalant’s palace he knew it was I. He could sense the magnetic point that he had placed on me.


I was no longer Goldgaze. I was no longer the Gatherer. I no long searched for the lost history of my race. I no longer felt romance whether it be pale or dark. I had become the Tealtear. I had become the Wanderer.

But I write I stop long enough to write these words. Maybe there will be another Gatherer, another young troll out there determined to find the history that was once lost. I do not doubt the Empress will deem the actions of the rebels as traitors to the empire. These words are alone cause for high treason marked as heretical.

I do not wish for my history to be lost. All history needs to be told.