Chapter #7A Cold Open by: Fabric   Author's Note: This will be a storyline that goes against the originally established storylines in this interactive that started Urban Chronicles. Been a long-time reader and decided to start an idea that's fresh in my mind. We'll see how long it takes me, whether folks read this or not, I want to tell a tale of characters across all kinds of backgrounds, put in all kinds of situations with a great number of locales, species, foes, and narratives that can be explored in an infinite space like Urban Chronicles. I've talked with AuraWolf, and wish to explore a redux of the UC universe.
This story takes place in a time in which the IDP is an established faction not just in the earth dimension we would consider our home setting, but are also publicly accepted and present in other dimensions with specific outposts. They are under a set doctrine not to interfere directly in foreign dimension politics, but to simply aid against the Anti threat or those that wish to disrupt the peace of the innocent.
By the item author's permission, some scenes or bad-ends of the storyline will be sexually explicit or contain vore content. Anything that focuses on these things will have a warning label on them just in case.
It makes me happy to write this. I hope it makes you happy to read it.
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In the expanse of everything, it would be easy to feel so insignificantly small like you were nothing. But you breathe in, inhaling the freshest air you've had in a while, or perhaps the freshest ever. Period. Despite how frigid it was, it was as pure as you presume oxygen could be. While it would take a bit to acclimate to the weather and altitude, you couldn't help but admire its beauty
The Mythic Dimension
Lesheim, Happvængr
Before you, huts and homes of northerner myths reside in a town called Lesheim; having a large and partially downhill valley of snow between two mountain ranges that could see the coast of the ocean far away, just past a dense frosted forest. The sky beams with the morning sun finding its way through a mess of clouds, despite the idle snow particles that trickle about in the air around you as if it was snowing. The wind carries the snowflakes about as they waft along the uninterrupted white across the land, save for the clearly dug-out pathway that leads up Lesheim.
Your lips move, despite the dryness and cold, mouthing hard enough to where you begin to mutter the words aloud:
"But her friend is nowhere to be seen.
Now she walks through her sunken dream."
"To the seat with the clearest view.
And she's hooked to the silver screen."
You just couldn't help it. You loved this song; Life on Mars by the great David Bowie was playing in your earbuds, and you savor its applicability when taking in the wondrous environment around you as you walk the cold and muddied path. You doubted ol' Bowie could've imagined someone looking upon such a glorious northern vista when he wrote it, at least of what you could ponder.
But as you walk, a grumpy male voice mutters to your side, "Y'know, I don't really get it. But is that musical crap supposed to make you feel warmer?"
Glancing to your left, you have to tilt your head a bit more downwards to take stock of the goblin partner you were traveling alongside with. "...No, it is making me feel better. As does the air." You answer to your teammate Nack.
Nack Toughbite, a mythic folk that made up for his short size with his mouth and attitude for sure, but as well as his strength. He was only 3'10", but the stocky green goblin was as tough as they could come. He had a bit of packed muscle to his arms, but the slightly portly belly would always make him look like he was easy pickings. Though in your experience as a fellow Division team-member, Nack was all the more dangerous when underestimated.
Currently, his small tanky figure was covered up in dense dark furs that were draped over his typical armor-set from the IDP. Part of it was to help him blend in with the locals, but it was also to endure the frigid weather. His bald noggin was tucked in a fur hood while his large and long pointed ears had to be tucked in makeshift 'horns' sewn in the hood as pocket spaces for them, so they wouldn't be bare in the intense cold. The grenade launcher her wore on his back that was half of his entire size though bobs at its leather strap slung over him. His gloved hands were pocketed in together as he is unable to bunch himself completely closed off in his garb. His big nose was blushed and left in the cold as he just angrily glares forward, with his mouth partially concealed by the collar of his winter attire.
Deciding to unplug the buds from your ears, you begrudgingly tuck them into your satchel with the music player to give Nack some attention. You figure the quiet stroll left him alone in his thoughts, zeroing in too much on how cold he was. You were cold too, dressed similarly in dark furs over your typical attire, but the music acted as a good distraction. Jealousy for the people that can just dunk themselves in ice water and be fine does hit you. Apparently to them it was just 'a state of mind'. You doubt you could get the goblin off of bemusing his frigid woes, but maybe a conversation could at least have him complain less.
Back on the subject of oxygen, you decide to teach him a neat fact. "You should try breathing more fresh air in, Nack."
"There's plenty o' it to go around elsewhere. It's cold as an ice drake here. I like my lungs cozy, little lady." He growls lowly right back, tightening his bunching clothes together to their full extent.
You did feel partly bad for him. He was completely hairless and his short stature didn't do him any favors when you had to travel the deep snow. He had to stomp through it all harder when wading through the denseness. Fur leathers or not, he wasn't as beneficial as other mammal myths or anthros are. Responding back, you offer as a suggestion, "Well you'll be happier if you breathe more. The more oxygen you breathe, the more oxygen your brain gets. The more your brain gets, the more your blood gets."
He cocks a brow in confusion, peeking from his hood and furred collar. "Air goes in my blood...?"
You nod and add, "In a way, yes, but you increase the amount of serotonin that's produced in your body when there's plenty of more oxidized blood flowing in you than let's say, a stressful day."
"I'd say it's stressful. These people live out in a wasteland of this shit." He grunts, kicking a furred boot in the dense snow that he trudged through with more difficulty. Not all of it was cleared for the road. "If I huff and puff, I'll get more of that sarah-stuff you mentioned?" His mouth opens up, all before heaving air in and out at a wild rate.
"With controlled and long breaths, Nack. Hyperventilating is just gonna get your heart rate up, which is just more stress." You laugh a bit. "But I agree with you on the stress part. The Jarl of Lesheim wasn't much of help, but she struck me as the prideful type."
The goblin grunts, ceasing his constant heaving now that he has their job to think about. "Yeah what was that chick's deal? Y'all offered a hand and she slapped it away."
You and Nack were returning from the Longhouse of Lesheim; effectively the capitol building and residence of the town's leadership. Your current mission for the IDP was to track, locate, and dispose of an Anti nest that was festering in the northern wilds of Happvængr. The nation was in the Mythic Dimension, with myths and beasts that you'd normally tie towards Norse and Celtic mythos back home, but it wasn't exclusive to those things. From yetis to ice wraiths; Happvængr had plenty of dangers, and the people here fought for the land to remain.
"As I said. Pride." You explain to Nack. "These people, like many villages out here, deal with dangers frequently enough, it's the basis of their way of life and creed. Fighting is living. And any problem of your own is something you should overcome. When we asked the Jarl for information on the Anti's whereabouts, they likely took that as giving us their problem to deal with. She wasn't going to disappoint her people. If the Anti are a problem for them, they'll deal with it."
"Welp. I say let 'em then if they're so damn eager." Nack retorts while keeping close to your side. "If they wanna earn their glory and I get to go back and go for a soak in the pool room hot tub at the base, then it'd be selfish of us to take that from them, huh?"
You smirk and mutter in return, "I doubt they'll complain if we do take care of them. I think this is a case of us just needing to do all the work and hunting ourselves. They probably see it as if we make it our hunt and do it from scratch, that's us earning our own glory in a way."
"Who needs glory when your kind have shown me what a heater is." Nack grumbles, rubbing his gloved hands together to imagine being back in bed, toasting up with a bedside heater.
"We were given orders, Nack. We follow through on it, and if it doesn't lead anywhere, then you're free to chalk it up to the captain." You warn him with, knowing he'll always fall in line with what your division captain says.
"Bah!" He snarls. "If this village's own damn leader won't talk, what's to say the farmers will?" The goblin looks ahead to the small huts that litter the snowy area, with most people tucked in their own homes with their own fireplaces. He was jealous, but an idea cracks in his head where he smiles. "Actually...maybe even if we don't get any information, they could still invite us in for some heat. A good brew. Some cheesy soup still steamin'...huoohh...~" It pleases him to think of food, almost drooling.
"If they suggest it, you're happy to take the offer. But we won't be imposing ourselves on them for your sake, Nack." You roll your eyes. Having no luck with the Jarl, your task was to inquire with the village folk to garner any information or directions the Anti have been sighted. The more witness accounts you get, the easier to find the nest.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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