I'm not sure what happened in the beginning; no one is, but I'll tell you what I know. See, here in the Outlands, we don't have much paper, so we tell our stories through song—which is, ironically, one of the only things I'm good at. These songs tell of an age before the Great Blood Houses, the Age of Tamult... no, Tamuit, Tamiot..? Damn it, I've forgotten the damn song! Ugh, nevermind, we'll get to that later. Uhm, where was I? Oh yeah, the Five Great Blood Houses. Not sure why they call themselves 'houses' when they're more like nations, but yeah, the first is Korrath: mighty warriors who utilize their own bones in combat. The Syndri, who turn you to gold and manipulate your mind. The Orsaan, with their cool plasma weapons. Tarrith, who could literally be anywhere right now," he whispers, "'they shapeshift.' And Veythari, the absolute coolest."
"JON!" A girl's voice angrily called out. The boy in the tent hastily stood up and covered himself. "Holst, what the heck!" Jon yelled back. "I tried to stop her," another boy, behind the angry girl, shrugged. "How can you be sleeping here butt-naked on the day of the Blood Moon? Don't you WANT a Bloodgift?!" "Chill out, Isabel," Jon replied while dressing. He settled on a plain white shirt and brown trousers, giving Holst the 'you betrayed me' look—a sentiment the boy also shrugged off. "I'm getting ready; there's no need to hurry. I might not get a Bloodgift anyway," he continued. "Quite the optimism," a soft voice said. She had just entered the tent and reached for Isabel's hand. She was considerably shorter, wore a white gown, and had silky brown hair. This was Mercy, Isabel's younger sister. "I might just learn from you and kill my expectations." At this, even Holst was shocked. 'This girl, she's a little imp,' he thought. Isabel was seething. "Well, look what kind of influence you're being, Jon!" she angrily said. Jon was shocked but kept it light. "Mercy, have mercy on me." No one found that funny. 'I'll get you one day, manipulative little devil,' he thought, staring bullets into Mercy, who just smirked. "Ugh, fine, I'll get ready for the Blood Moon! C'mon, let's go, let's go!" He dashed out of the tent, Isabel chasing him behind, her spiky tail whipping the air left and right. She wore sandals, a white shirt that struggled to reach her navel, and shorts. She had a kind face and disheveled brown hair she'd given up on trying to take care of years ago. Holst gave way for the two. He was the biggest of the group, taller, although the same age as Isabel and Jon. His body was muscular, and he had a plain face that only lit up when he talked about fixing or destroying something. He wore a brown jacket with a white vest underneath, he cut his hair frequently, and together with black pants, he looked like your average Joe or at least, the guy who punches people for the plot. He and Mercy followed Isabel and Jon to the town square, where all the teens and kids had emerged to show off their Bloodgifts and celebrate. The Blood Moon brought Bloodgifts with it twice a year: random powers given to individuals. No one could explain it, and no one cared to, but it was a day of celebration throughout the world—Outlands and Houses. Everyone enjoyed this day because of how special it was, everyone except for Jon. "I'm just saying, guys, maybe I won't get abilities. I got nothing on the first day of the Blood Moon; what's gonna change?" "You're a late bloomer," Holst replied. "It's not about if, but when. No one goes without Bloodgifts, just pray it's something cool like mine." "Yeah right," Isabel said. "What does bending earth and metal have against being a demon!" She flexed her tail while Mercy giggled and cheered her on. "You're not a demon, though," Jon said with too much admiration than he would have decided. Everyone was seriously creeped out. "What Jon means to say," Holst came to the rescue, "is that you have a beast form and it might be scary, but that doesn't make you a demon," he said dismissively. Jon signaled him in appreciation. "Nuh-uh, she's a demon and it's cool!" Mercy cheered. Chuckling, Isabel ruffled her hair. "Demon or not, guys, it's only temporary. We'll get out of here and convince one of the Great Houses to recruit us." They all beamed at this, even the kids nearby listening to their conversation. This was the dream of everyone in the Outlands: to one day join the major or even minor Blood Houses. "AHHHHH!" a kid screamed. It had begun. The moon was out, and the celebrating kids who hadn't got their powers yet saw them manifest. One with lightning, another grew tentacles. Everyone but Jon. "Sigh, let's go home." "No," Isabel held his hand. Jon was losing patience, even with her, and especially with Holst and Mercy giggling. "Aye, why the heck are you guys laughing?" he and Isabel said simultaneously. "Well, maybe because of the tail," Mercy was barely audible through her laughter. "Maybe you're excited to see her," Holst further amplified the embarrassment while cackling wildly. Jon slowly looked back. He had a tail. Not a long, thin, spiked-at-the-end tail like Isabel's. His was like a wet dog, and could he be feeling fur... on his face?! He quickly let go of Isabel's hand. Seeing his now paws and grey fur, "WHAT THE HECK!" Jon was sitting on a table in a very spacious room. The house was actually small, but it was much bigger than his separate tent that he got only because he hit puberty. His tent and many others surrounded this small house. This was the property of Miss Kai, their caretaker, who took care of the orphans in this village. The village was mostly full of them and a few other families. They called it The Promise. 'Promised to what? Raiders?' Jon always thought. He was currently using his back leg to scratch his head and picking fleas from his fur, eating them. "Look, it's a were-dog," one of the kids in the room said, and even Isabel and the gang chuckled. They were all here to check with Miss Kai, who was a traveling physician and inspected their new Bloodgifts. She had just entered the room. "Alright, everyone out but the dog-boy and his friends." This elicited more chuckles, but her death-glare was enough to chase the kids away. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" she said with an unnaturally wide smile. She was a tall woman, dressed head to toe in a white robe that was rather tight-fitting. Her hair was held together by pins, and she was rather old, nor young. "Uh, well, yes, Miss Kai, Jon got his Bloodgift today, but it's totally useless," Mercy said innocently while Isabel and Holst forced down another fit of laughter, heavily encouraged by Jon's frown. "Aw, aren't you cute? Not all Bloodgifts are spectacular or even practical. I can literally just hear loudly," she said, smiling at Mercy and heading for her desk. "But, ma'am, Holst said you're a physician, right? Hearing is perfect for you," Holst said. "Of course, but I chose my career based on my Bloodgift, not the other way around." She stood up and started petting Jon-dog. "Maybe he'll just have to do the same." "You hear that, Jon? You can be a good watch-dog!" Isabel couldn't help herself. Everyone laughed more, even Miss Kai chuckled. "Buttt I wRant t0 joyn a howse!" Jon whined. "Sorry, buster, but you got beast form. It will evolve into something better with time." "NOOO!" he barked, hitting the table he was on. Dust shot up in the air, rocks were levitating the more he barked. "Jesus, calm down!" Miss Kai slapped the back of his neck, and with a whine, everything returned back to normal. The gang was in awe of what happened, especially since Jon began transforming back. 'Two Bloodgifts, and more importantly...' "Quick!" Miss Kai shook Jon with sudden urgency. He was still a bit dazed. "Before you pass out, what are the kids outside talking about?" Miss Kai was holding his shoulder very tight, her face very next to his. He was beet-red. "Something about earthquake," he said tiredly. "My God!" Holst was the first to pick up on what was going on. "Miss Kai..." he started a question but couldn't form the words. "I've never seen this Bloodgift before! A rare on the chart!" She ran to her table and pulled out a book to promptly document everything. Isabel attempted to ask a question, but she raised her hand to signal for silence. "Well, Jon, you have the Bloodgift of Mimicry," she said excitedly. She had spent years studying under the Greycoat faction, an order of doctors rendering aid outside the borders of the great kingdoms, and she never saw a Bloodgift that could interact with that of others. Isabel and Holst slowly took Jon off the table and back to his tent while Mercy followed behind. They knew their caretaker; she could hardly focus if she found something exciting, and he had long passed out. He should get some rest before she decided on conducting further 'experiments.' The night ended with her yelling 'spectacular' while the gang left the wooden house. ************************************************* Author's note: Please see the Dramatis Personae and Glossary of Gifts if any confusion arises with the terms used.Latest Chapter
CHAPTER 17:THE GREYCOATS TEST
The notice went up on the main hall board, and the collective groan from Cohort Gamma could probably be heard in the kitchens.PRACTICAL ASSESSMENT: PRINCIPLES OF FIELD MEDICINELOCATION: EAST WING INFIRMARY SIMULATION ROOMTEAMS OF TWO, ASSIGNED AT RANDOM.REMEMBER: A PATIENT IS NOT A PUZZLE. A PATIENT IS A PERSON.(Even when they’re filled with air.)“Random pairs?” Mercy squeaked, reading the notice over Jon’s shoulder. “What if I get stuck with someone who thinks a tourniquet goes on the head?”“Then you’ll have a very streamlined patient,” Jon said, grinning. “No more pesky headaches.”Isabel’s tail gave an anxious flick. She’d been doing okay with the bandages, but the lesson on stitching last week had been a disaster. Her claws were not made for delicate needlework; she’d accidentally sewn the practice leather to the table. “I’m going to fail. I’m going to fail and they’re going to make me wear a sign that says ‘Menace to Stitches’.”“You’ll be fine,” Holst said, his voice surp
CHAPTER 16: A NOT SO LITTLE CRACK
Proctor Valerius’s specialized class was less a classroom and more a seminary dedicated to a single subject: the Orsaan Holy Inferno. The circular chamber felt increasingly like a pressure cooker, the air thick with expectation and ancient dogma. Mercy sat with the six other “special” students, each an oddity in their own right—a boy whose skin could phase through solid wood, a girl whose voice could shatter glass at a specific pitch. But Mercy was the only one whose curriculum was an entire political and theological indoctrination.Today, Valerius had brought in a relic—a cracked, heat-warped piece of slate with faded Orsaan runes etched into it. She placed it on the central table with a reverence that was clinical, not devotional.“This was recovered from a razed village near the Orsaan northern border,” Valerius explained, her voice cool and detached. “The runes speak of ‘cleansing flame’ and ‘unworthy flesh.’ This is not poetry, Mercy. This is policy. To them, plasma is not just a
CHAPTER 15: UNLIKELY ALLIANCE
The tension in the training arena had become a daily ritual. Isabel would outperform the popular clique, and they would retaliate with whispered barbs about her being "feral" and "unrefined." The twins, Abel and Obed, were caught in the middle—unwilling recipients of the girls' fawning attention and silent witnesses to the petty bullying.During a break, as Isabel took a long drink of water, Obed sidled up to her, keeping his voice low."This is getting stupid," he muttered, nodding toward the giggling group. "They're only doing it because they're jealous and they think you're alone."Isabel's tail gave an irritated flick. "What am I supposed to do? Challenge their leader to a duel for the title of 'Most Popular'?""No," Obed said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You're supposed to have an alliance. A strategic one.""What kind of alliance?""Think about it. They love Abbed. They're jealous of you. So, if Abbed is... taken... and taken by you, specifically, it solves both our p
CHAPTER 14: DIVERGING PATHS
The following day, the Shattered Fang’s schedules finally pulled them in different directions. The mood at breakfast was a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.“Remember,” Jon said, pointing a spoon at Mercy. “First day in the special class. Be cool. Don’t set anything on fire you’re not supposed to.”“I make no promises,” Mercy replied, her eyes sparkling.“And you,” Holst said, turning to Isabel. “Try not to scare your new classmates too much.”Isabel just smirked, her tail giving a confident flick. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”---Jon & Holst: A Forbidden SubjectTheir class with Instructor Silas was titled “Applied Outlands Diplomacy.” Today, he was dissecting the fallout of a recent trade dispute between two minor Outland towns, a classic case study in his teachings.As he concluded, Jon’s hand shot up. “Instructor Silas, you speak about the effects of the Great Houses’ policies, but you never talk about the Houses themselves. If we’re to be mediators, shouldn’t we under
CHAPTER 13: WELCOME ASSEMBLY
The dawn light filtering into the loft seemed to highlight the starkness of the four white tunics laid out on their beds. The Shattered Fang regarded them with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Mercy poked at the fabric with a grimace. "It feels like wearing a sack made of dried grass." "Good," Holst grunted, already pulling his on over his head. "It's not supposed to be comfortable. It's supposed to be durable. No fancy embroidery to tear, no loose threads to snag. It's perfect." He stood there, a mountain of muscle in a stiff, boxy white tunic, already checking the bolts for his crossbow. Isabel was locked in a silent battle with her own uniform. "This is a design flaw of the highest order," she declared, trying to maneuver her tail through the solid wall of fabric. "Do they expect me to tuck it into my belt? Am I supposed to just let it wag and knock over every piece of pottery in this place?" Jon, already fully dressed, was admiring his reflection in the dark glass of a wi
CHAPTER 12: GREYCOAT ACADEMY
The morning sun gleamed off the immense pentagon structure of the Greycoat headquarters. Jon, Isabel, Holst, and Mercy wove through the bustling foot traffic, following directions to the academy building nestled within the complex. It was a formidable, school-like structure of pale stone, its windows looking less like portals for learning and more like the slits of a fortress. At the entrance, two familiar figures leaned against the wall as if they’d been there for an age. "Ahoy, kids!" Godrick called out, his voice a cheerful boom from behind his plague mask. Goodluck, standing beside him, offered a silent, two-fingered wave. "How long have you guys been standing there?" Isabel asked, her tail giving a skeptical flick. "Give or take two hours," Godrick answered casually. "Two hours?!" Mercy scrubbed at her drowsy eyes. It was only 8 a.m., and she felt half-dead. The idea that anyone had been awake and waiting since 6 was horrifying. After a brief round of their usual bi
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