Chapter: The Cranes of Calling
The Forest of the Heath
In the shadowed glades of the Heath, where twisted trees bend like grieving elders and the sun filters down in weak, golden strands — a small figure ran. Red was just a child — a squirrel with dust on his cheeks, overalls torn from bramble, heart pounding like a war drum. His mother’s voice echoed behind him:
“Run, Red! Don’t look back!”
He ran until the moss gave way to sliding silt, and he fell behind a lichen-covered boulder. He crouched, chest heaving, clutching a crooked stick like it was sacred. He tried to still his breath, to silence the shaking.
Then came the sounds.
Guttural shrieks. Bone scraping bark.
A father’s roar. A mother’s final scream.
The wet tear of flesh.
Three of them — Gloomfang-touched, their bodies twitching and wrong, eyes voided, foaming mouths gnashing — descended on his family. They tore and bit until the screaming stopped.
And then, slowly, they stood.
Changed.
Twisting.
And began to wander, searching for more.
Behind the boulder, Little Red wept.
Alone.
No spell. No sword. No saving.
Just a stick.
Sachiko at Sakana Cove
Far across the sea, where the winds smell of salt and incense, Sachiko Slicer — the petite blue Oni — sat on the pier of Sakana Cove, legs dangling over the water.
She stared at her reflection. The water shimmered with the low tide, revealing herself in the ripples — soft horns just beneath the hairline, blue eyes like dying sapphires, a face caught between worlds.
It was always a love-hate relationship.
This body. This shape. This curse.
Then: a flutter.
Paper cranes drifted down from the clouds, their wings catching the sea breeze.
One landed on the surface before her, breaking her reflection.
Another settled beside her foot.
She picked it up with delicate fingers. It was folded with precision, sealed with the scent of cedar and windroot. Inside: a message, simple and weightless.
“The Mountain calls. The Clan is needed. Return.”
Sachiko closed her eyes.
Her hand trembled just slightly.
She stood.
Nuke on the Backroads
Dust rose behind the heavy boots of Nuke, the Cobbler of Robots, as he walked the long road away from Starfall Stronghold. His pilgrimage had ended. His chassis bore new scarring. His fey club, etched with sacred markings, pulsed faintly at his side.
He didn’t speak often.
But he heard everything.
The wind shifted.
He paused at a fork in the road — a shrine to an old highway god crumbling in the weeds. Overhead, the clouds parted just slightly.
And then, floating down like fragments of sky, came the paper cranes.
One landed on his shoulder.
He turned his head — servo-motors humming low — and unfolded it with a precise click of his clawed fingers.
Inside:
“The Gloomfang rises. The Heath bleeds. We are summoned. Return to Mt. Kirama. Kaiju answers Kaiju.”
His eyes glowed bright red.
Not with anger.
Not with duty.
But with something close to memory.
He turned.
And walked toward the wind.
Across the Runiverse
From the marshes to the dunes, from sky cities to temple peaks — the paper cranes flew. Each one riding the current of Kūkan-no-Ki, guided not by wind, but by will.
The Kaiju Clan was waking. ---
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter: Windswept Departure
Salt air moved like memory across the dock of Sakana Cove.
The sea was calm for now, but the breeze carried edge — a sharpness from the Charybdis Sea, where storms were born and pirate sails were trimmed to wicked points. The old planks of the pier creaked under the weight of destiny.
Four stood in silent formation.
Woolah, scaled and still, his reptilian skin catching faint sunlight, the greenish-yellow scales along his arms twitching slightly with muscle memory. Though small in stature, the kobold berserker was compact powerful — a vessel of control carved from inner rage.
Sachiko, quiet beside him, arms folded, stood in her human form — her horns nearly hidden beneath thick dark hair. But her blue Oni nature was never far beneath. Her eyes were deep pools of azure, vast as the sea and just as storm-touched. The reflection of her power lingered in every blink.
Nuke, machine-born and battle-worn, stood motionless as ever, his red headband stirring faintly with the ocean’s breath. Light gleamed on his alloy frame. His glowing eyes flicked once toward the horizon, as if scanning not for threats but memories.
And at the head, robes swirling gently like leaves caught in a slow breeze, was Tengukensei, the Tengu of the Mountain. Crimson-faced and ageless, he seemed carved from stormcloud and starlight. His fan, closed at his side, pulsed faintly — not with magic, but with intent.
He had just finished speaking — outlining the path ahead, a journey that would take them far from the comfort of the cove.
"Through the Bay’s rocky mouth," he had said, "out past the whirlpools of Charybdis where the old sea gods once drowned in their own storms. We will pass the Pirate Peninsula — a coast of knives and forgotten treaties — and sail north to the Värsed Coast. From there, westward across the shattered ridges, below the bones of the Skeleton Mines, into the northern Heath. We meet Evoker Kalo in Grimthorn Hollow — if the Gloomfang allows it."
It would take weeks. Tengukensei could’ve flown the route in days, riding his fan across wind lines like a leaf on a river. But this was a clan journey, and clan meant together.
He would walk. He would sail. He would lead.
Then the Sea Panther arrived.
A shadow on the water at first — then a prow splitting the tide. The sails stretched proud and white, salt-worn and honest, swaying against the blue sky.
Its figurehead was unmistakable — a great panther carved in dark oak, jaws open in a silent roar, sea-glass eyes glinting green.
Ropes flew from the deck.
A crewman leapt forward, boots slapping wood, hands wrapping the mooring posts in practiced loops.
The ship bumped gently against the pier — a kiss of hull to harbor.
Then the boarding plank extended, smooth and oiled, landing like a bridge between worlds.
Two figures descended.
Ai, Breaker of Sharks, came first. She was smaller in build, but the way she moved — proud, fierce, effortless — made the pier feel like it belonged to her. Her dark hair caught the light as her small feline ears twitched once. She wore a grey undershirt and darker pants, boots worn soft from years at sea. A red sash wrapped tight around her waist, a darker grey cloak hung from one shoulder. A round wooden shield was strapped to her back, and a spiked ball and chain hung from her hip like a promise unspoken.
Behind her came her first mate — a tall, hulking Maine Coon, fur brushed and braided with care, his pirate garb sharp and worn with pride. A cutlass hung from his side, and his golden eyes moved like a watchman in deep waters.
Ai stopped before the Kaiju Clan.
A flicker of a grin touched her lips.
“Kaiju Clan,” she said, nodding. “We ride for the cursed heath. The sea doesn’t want us to, but we’ve never listened.”
Tengukensei bowed — slow and deep. The others followed, silent but certain.
Ai’s gaze lingered on Sachiko, and Sachiko tilted her head in reply, the smallest smirk forming. They had met before. The sea remembered.
The crew behind them moved like shadows, beastfolk of all kinds — scarred, silent, and smiling like they had already survived the storm to come.
Tengukensei stepped forward, lifting his fan slightly — just enough for the breeze to kiss its feathers.
“The void stirs,” he murmured. “And the land cries out.”
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
