Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2016 8:27:02 GMT
Approximately eighty eight years ago...
In the beginning there was darkness, only the silence of the empty abyss. Then, a pulsing, deep and booming like the whole of creation. The heartbeat of his father, pumping lifeblood through both their bodies. Ymir was little more than an egg in the womb, barely more than a precious few cells clumped together on the direction of a few strands of DNA. It was how even the greatest of his kind began, a humbling an ubiquitous origin shared by all. Though his mind was barely existent, but a collection of base impulses, his spirit already swelled with inner strength.
Over the next few months Ymir’s home would grow exponentially. A hardened shell of bone like material enveloping him and his yolk, growing larger and thicker by the day until it was as large as his parent’s fist. The cells of his tiny body grew and developed steadily, fed a continuous diet of nutrients and pulling in oxygen through his father’s bloodstream. His tail and head the most prominent features of the purple embryo that was his body. The former, long and fatty, without muscle, length, or definition yet. And the latter, soft and squishy, without a skull or even the slightest semblance of his future horned crown of bone. His eyes closed behind translucent lids, yet unable to see the world around them as he floated in the liquid sustaining his very being.
Once ready, Ymir’s parent laid the eggs of his clutch, four in total. Neither a large clutch or a notably small one. To his credit that was a good thing, singular eggs were seen as signs of a weak sire, and their offspring stigmatized in their early years as the spawn of weaklings. Large egg clutches had an opposite effect, and the myriad of children often quarreled and fought among each other. The would often have lead to fatal results once they began to master their terrible power, killing off their kin to win their parents’ affections or respect of their peers. Arcosian society was truly brutal in that manner, utterly Darwinian in how it deals with the dualistic nature of weakness and strength. The strong succeed, the weak pray they do not anger the strong. That simple message and so many more like it was forever etched into the very genetic memory of each and every living Arcosian.
But, returning to Ymir. His, and his siblings eggs, and a thousand more from hundreds of different parents were all tended to in one of the many military hospitals that dotted the surface of the planet Arcose. Kept in special incubations chambers, under the ideal frigid temperatures to promote strong births. Though Arcosians had figured out heat and electricity untold millennia ago, they still clung to their ancient origins, believing only cold and darkness truly fostered growth in their young. The eggs were kept in near total darkness, in temperatures similar to the those on the arctic plains of their homeworld where their ancestors once lived in simple dwellings of ice and stone. Left to their own devices, the eggs were monitored by a small battery of life support equipment, checking everything from internal fluid pressure to the heartbeat of the developing embryo within.
Ymir grew swiftly in his home, his days occupied with nothing beyond feeding and developing his fragile body into the living weapon it would someday grow to be. Legs began to unfold from his frame, but fleshy stubs at first with pale translucent bones within. Soon though his three pointed toes began to extend outwards and vestigial feet became clear against the rest of his leg. The tadpole like embryo that once composed his body now becoming a true fetus as it furthered along its developmental progress. Soon arms would begin to form, and latter still they’d be tipped with the beginnings of what would become Ymir’s hands. Already bits of boney plating was beginning to calcify along his shins and head, in months to come this would form the basis of the bio-organic armor that coated portions of an Arcosian’s body. The natural protection that had enabled his kind to stand against even the fiercest of their planet’s wild predators when their kind was still young and primitive. Now it was but a ceremonious reminder of his race’s fearsome combat prowess.
After close to a year gestating, Ymir’s small body was nearing the final stages of life before birth. Lithe musculature graced his form, his tail had grown to nearly as long as he was tall, and the yolk of his egg had been entirely absorbed by his body. He was running out of room in his egg, having grown to fill almost all available space. What would one day be the proud horns that graced his skull were now little more than dull bumps on his brow, but important buds nonetheless. An Acosian’s epidermal horns’ first purpose in life was to help escape from their shell. Already the egg clutch was beginning to stir within their dark chamber, Ymir and his siblings were stirring. Their imprisonment in these tiny organic prisons was almost at an end. The infant Arcosian tried to stretch out instinctively, his feet bracing against the interior wall of his egg while his hands did the same. Unable to move further Ymir butted the top of his head again the egg, rocking it ever so slightly.
Outside the incubation chamber, a small monitor chimed to alert the staff to a hatching. The chief overseer in charge of the hatchery stepped into the incubation room to observe, with several of his assistants in toe. He motioned for one of them with a hand. “Let’s see what we have here, Chamber… 32A. Four eggs, vitals look good, core temperatures high, already beginning compulsory hatching behavior. Should see pipping commence soon.” The doctor quickly typed a few notes on a tablet he held, taking another look at the readings on the incubator’s monitor. “One of you go alert the parent, he’ll want to be here for the birth.” A much younger Arcosian with pale blue skin nodded and turned to depart. “Of course sir, I’ll fetch him from the waiting room at once.” The aid soon disappeared, leaving the rest to continue watching the hatching with baited breath.
Thoughts swirled in Ymir’s tiny mind, basic flashes of emotion and desires, crude instincts that drove his will as he continued to try and escape the confines of his skull. “Move, push, breath, escape.” His hands curled into infantile fists and banged meekly at the inside of his egg. He battered his stubby horns again and again even as they began to throb will dull pain. Pain, it was the first time he’d felt such a sensation. It angered him, another first feeling, and the infant Arcosian began to let out small bleating cries. Back on the outside, the assistant had returned with Polaros, the father of the hatchlings. The Arcosian warrior stood watching with silent pride as his children began to break their way to freedom. “How long has it been?” He asked gruffly, glancing towards the head physician. “Only a few minutes sir. It can take much longer, there’s a lot of variables in play during the hatching.”
As the words left the man’s mouth his eyes shot down to the egg. The first crack rung out through the room, and Polaros let out a small grin. Ymir felt artificial light hitting the top of his head through the cracks that emerged in his egg. It felt good, better than being trapped in darkness. He headbutted again, and the cracks began to widen. Over and over, one, two, three times until small flakes began to break off as well. Instinct told him to use his hands, and the small Arcosian reached up, pushing up on a cracked piece of shell. “Good. Push, push my child.” Polaros said lovingly as he could, watching as a purple hand lifted up the broken piece of shell. Ymir pushed harder, knocking the piece away completely. His hands grasped the edge of the hole and continued pulling, breaking away bits of egg piece by piece. It was the first time Ymir had used his muscles since developing, they were raw and sore from a lifetime spent curled in a ball. Regardless, his sheer instinct still willed his young body to work tirelessly as he pulled apart his egg.
Soon Ymir had opened a large enough hole in his egg that he could be clearly seen by the small group of onlookers. His crimson eyes glanced up, catching the face of his father and the many strangers around him. That didn’t matter now, only getting free did. He pushed against his egg, rolling it onto it’s side. From there Ymir began to crawl outward on all fours. His legs were weak and not yet ready to support his body weight, and he barely caught himself as his hands hit cold plastic floor. From there the infant Arcosian crawled forwards, using his tail for balance. It was how their ancient ancestors had walked before they evolved to stand on their hind legs. At last he was free, viscous birthing fluid still clung to his body, dripping off as he moved about the incubator. Freedom, birth, it was all such a liberating feeling. But a new instinct rose up within him, the desire to kill.
Ymir pushed off the ground on his hands, coming to stand unsteadily on his feet. His tail lay pressed on the ground like a balance, giving him three points of contact as he wobbled forward unsteadily. Ymir’s eyes locked on another yet unhatched egg from his clutch. The urge to kill was rising, the sooner he did the better. In primitive times this behavior was commonplace, Arcosian parents couldn’t maintain all their offspring in most cases. Frequently the strongest child would kill his siblings, to prevent them for competing for food and affection. It ensured only the strongest survived, and thus, had the best odds of living. Ymir moved to one of his brother’s eggs, so much smaller than his own. It wiggled back and forth, weak bleatings coming from within. His unborn brother trying to escape, just as he had. Energy crackled from Ymir’s hands, the first subconscious usage of his Ki.
With surprising swiftness Ymir curled his hands into a balled fist, jamming it through the egg of his brother’s shell. Primal instinct guiding him, his hand clenched the shell, pulling off as much as he could. His brother cried out, looking wide eyed and scared when his gaze met Ymir’s. His own self preservation instincts kicked in, and he lunged forward, tackling Ymir to the ground. The two wrestled, locked in a life or death struggle. Small fists impacting each other’s head, feet kicking at each other’s side. They each cried out for help, fear and anger mixing in their newborn minds. Ymir quickly gained the upper hand, his size and strength superior to that of his brother, and the extra minute of life greatly improving his fine motor skills. His tail moved around behind, wrapping around his brother’s neck. The smaller Arcosian’s own tail trying in vain to prevent it, coiling around Ymir’s and trying to pull him off, to no avail.
Ymir grinned sadistically, squeezing his tail, tightening its grip on his brother’s airway. His brother cried out, hands clawing at Ymir’s face more weakly as his breath was choked out. The larger of the brothers could feel himself winning, his victory assured as the light began to fade from his brother’s eyes. Instinct had pushed him to this, but he would claim its victory. Suddenly a massive hand, almost as large as either of the grappling infants descended from the sky. It wedged itself easily between the two brothers like an impenetrable wall, prying them apart. “That is enough, I have seen what I needed.” Polaros bellowed as he gently pulled Ymir off of his brother, separating the two. When the massive arm retreated the two infants were left panting for breath on opposite sides of the incubator before being swiftly scooped up by technicians.
“This one will make a fine warrior some day.” The head physician said, jotting a few final notes on his tablet. Polaros exhaled sharply as he listened, trying not to beam with pride. “They all will, I’ll make sure of it. Even the unhatched ones.” The physician turned, chuckling to himself as he did. “That is what every proud parent says. Now, let’s get these two in for testing. Would you like to stay and watch the remaining births?” Polaros nodded yes in response, his attention turned back to the incubator. “Very well.” The physician said in response to the wordless reply, motioning for his assistants to depart. Ymir trashed and struggled helplessly against his carrier’s grip, unwilling to leave his father. But alas, it was all for not. There was a small battery of tests yet to be done on the newborns. They were carted off to a different room of the hospice to be examined thoroughly before being returned to their father’s possession. And thus was the beginning of Ymir’s long life.
In the beginning there was darkness, only the silence of the empty abyss. Then, a pulsing, deep and booming like the whole of creation. The heartbeat of his father, pumping lifeblood through both their bodies. Ymir was little more than an egg in the womb, barely more than a precious few cells clumped together on the direction of a few strands of DNA. It was how even the greatest of his kind began, a humbling an ubiquitous origin shared by all. Though his mind was barely existent, but a collection of base impulses, his spirit already swelled with inner strength.
Over the next few months Ymir’s home would grow exponentially. A hardened shell of bone like material enveloping him and his yolk, growing larger and thicker by the day until it was as large as his parent’s fist. The cells of his tiny body grew and developed steadily, fed a continuous diet of nutrients and pulling in oxygen through his father’s bloodstream. His tail and head the most prominent features of the purple embryo that was his body. The former, long and fatty, without muscle, length, or definition yet. And the latter, soft and squishy, without a skull or even the slightest semblance of his future horned crown of bone. His eyes closed behind translucent lids, yet unable to see the world around them as he floated in the liquid sustaining his very being.
Once ready, Ymir’s parent laid the eggs of his clutch, four in total. Neither a large clutch or a notably small one. To his credit that was a good thing, singular eggs were seen as signs of a weak sire, and their offspring stigmatized in their early years as the spawn of weaklings. Large egg clutches had an opposite effect, and the myriad of children often quarreled and fought among each other. The would often have lead to fatal results once they began to master their terrible power, killing off their kin to win their parents’ affections or respect of their peers. Arcosian society was truly brutal in that manner, utterly Darwinian in how it deals with the dualistic nature of weakness and strength. The strong succeed, the weak pray they do not anger the strong. That simple message and so many more like it was forever etched into the very genetic memory of each and every living Arcosian.
But, returning to Ymir. His, and his siblings eggs, and a thousand more from hundreds of different parents were all tended to in one of the many military hospitals that dotted the surface of the planet Arcose. Kept in special incubations chambers, under the ideal frigid temperatures to promote strong births. Though Arcosians had figured out heat and electricity untold millennia ago, they still clung to their ancient origins, believing only cold and darkness truly fostered growth in their young. The eggs were kept in near total darkness, in temperatures similar to the those on the arctic plains of their homeworld where their ancestors once lived in simple dwellings of ice and stone. Left to their own devices, the eggs were monitored by a small battery of life support equipment, checking everything from internal fluid pressure to the heartbeat of the developing embryo within.
Ymir grew swiftly in his home, his days occupied with nothing beyond feeding and developing his fragile body into the living weapon it would someday grow to be. Legs began to unfold from his frame, but fleshy stubs at first with pale translucent bones within. Soon though his three pointed toes began to extend outwards and vestigial feet became clear against the rest of his leg. The tadpole like embryo that once composed his body now becoming a true fetus as it furthered along its developmental progress. Soon arms would begin to form, and latter still they’d be tipped with the beginnings of what would become Ymir’s hands. Already bits of boney plating was beginning to calcify along his shins and head, in months to come this would form the basis of the bio-organic armor that coated portions of an Arcosian’s body. The natural protection that had enabled his kind to stand against even the fiercest of their planet’s wild predators when their kind was still young and primitive. Now it was but a ceremonious reminder of his race’s fearsome combat prowess.
After close to a year gestating, Ymir’s small body was nearing the final stages of life before birth. Lithe musculature graced his form, his tail had grown to nearly as long as he was tall, and the yolk of his egg had been entirely absorbed by his body. He was running out of room in his egg, having grown to fill almost all available space. What would one day be the proud horns that graced his skull were now little more than dull bumps on his brow, but important buds nonetheless. An Acosian’s epidermal horns’ first purpose in life was to help escape from their shell. Already the egg clutch was beginning to stir within their dark chamber, Ymir and his siblings were stirring. Their imprisonment in these tiny organic prisons was almost at an end. The infant Arcosian tried to stretch out instinctively, his feet bracing against the interior wall of his egg while his hands did the same. Unable to move further Ymir butted the top of his head again the egg, rocking it ever so slightly.
Outside the incubation chamber, a small monitor chimed to alert the staff to a hatching. The chief overseer in charge of the hatchery stepped into the incubation room to observe, with several of his assistants in toe. He motioned for one of them with a hand. “Let’s see what we have here, Chamber… 32A. Four eggs, vitals look good, core temperatures high, already beginning compulsory hatching behavior. Should see pipping commence soon.” The doctor quickly typed a few notes on a tablet he held, taking another look at the readings on the incubator’s monitor. “One of you go alert the parent, he’ll want to be here for the birth.” A much younger Arcosian with pale blue skin nodded and turned to depart. “Of course sir, I’ll fetch him from the waiting room at once.” The aid soon disappeared, leaving the rest to continue watching the hatching with baited breath.
Thoughts swirled in Ymir’s tiny mind, basic flashes of emotion and desires, crude instincts that drove his will as he continued to try and escape the confines of his skull. “Move, push, breath, escape.” His hands curled into infantile fists and banged meekly at the inside of his egg. He battered his stubby horns again and again even as they began to throb will dull pain. Pain, it was the first time he’d felt such a sensation. It angered him, another first feeling, and the infant Arcosian began to let out small bleating cries. Back on the outside, the assistant had returned with Polaros, the father of the hatchlings. The Arcosian warrior stood watching with silent pride as his children began to break their way to freedom. “How long has it been?” He asked gruffly, glancing towards the head physician. “Only a few minutes sir. It can take much longer, there’s a lot of variables in play during the hatching.”
As the words left the man’s mouth his eyes shot down to the egg. The first crack rung out through the room, and Polaros let out a small grin. Ymir felt artificial light hitting the top of his head through the cracks that emerged in his egg. It felt good, better than being trapped in darkness. He headbutted again, and the cracks began to widen. Over and over, one, two, three times until small flakes began to break off as well. Instinct told him to use his hands, and the small Arcosian reached up, pushing up on a cracked piece of shell. “Good. Push, push my child.” Polaros said lovingly as he could, watching as a purple hand lifted up the broken piece of shell. Ymir pushed harder, knocking the piece away completely. His hands grasped the edge of the hole and continued pulling, breaking away bits of egg piece by piece. It was the first time Ymir had used his muscles since developing, they were raw and sore from a lifetime spent curled in a ball. Regardless, his sheer instinct still willed his young body to work tirelessly as he pulled apart his egg.
Soon Ymir had opened a large enough hole in his egg that he could be clearly seen by the small group of onlookers. His crimson eyes glanced up, catching the face of his father and the many strangers around him. That didn’t matter now, only getting free did. He pushed against his egg, rolling it onto it’s side. From there Ymir began to crawl outward on all fours. His legs were weak and not yet ready to support his body weight, and he barely caught himself as his hands hit cold plastic floor. From there the infant Arcosian crawled forwards, using his tail for balance. It was how their ancient ancestors had walked before they evolved to stand on their hind legs. At last he was free, viscous birthing fluid still clung to his body, dripping off as he moved about the incubator. Freedom, birth, it was all such a liberating feeling. But a new instinct rose up within him, the desire to kill.
Ymir pushed off the ground on his hands, coming to stand unsteadily on his feet. His tail lay pressed on the ground like a balance, giving him three points of contact as he wobbled forward unsteadily. Ymir’s eyes locked on another yet unhatched egg from his clutch. The urge to kill was rising, the sooner he did the better. In primitive times this behavior was commonplace, Arcosian parents couldn’t maintain all their offspring in most cases. Frequently the strongest child would kill his siblings, to prevent them for competing for food and affection. It ensured only the strongest survived, and thus, had the best odds of living. Ymir moved to one of his brother’s eggs, so much smaller than his own. It wiggled back and forth, weak bleatings coming from within. His unborn brother trying to escape, just as he had. Energy crackled from Ymir’s hands, the first subconscious usage of his Ki.
With surprising swiftness Ymir curled his hands into a balled fist, jamming it through the egg of his brother’s shell. Primal instinct guiding him, his hand clenched the shell, pulling off as much as he could. His brother cried out, looking wide eyed and scared when his gaze met Ymir’s. His own self preservation instincts kicked in, and he lunged forward, tackling Ymir to the ground. The two wrestled, locked in a life or death struggle. Small fists impacting each other’s head, feet kicking at each other’s side. They each cried out for help, fear and anger mixing in their newborn minds. Ymir quickly gained the upper hand, his size and strength superior to that of his brother, and the extra minute of life greatly improving his fine motor skills. His tail moved around behind, wrapping around his brother’s neck. The smaller Arcosian’s own tail trying in vain to prevent it, coiling around Ymir’s and trying to pull him off, to no avail.
Ymir grinned sadistically, squeezing his tail, tightening its grip on his brother’s airway. His brother cried out, hands clawing at Ymir’s face more weakly as his breath was choked out. The larger of the brothers could feel himself winning, his victory assured as the light began to fade from his brother’s eyes. Instinct had pushed him to this, but he would claim its victory. Suddenly a massive hand, almost as large as either of the grappling infants descended from the sky. It wedged itself easily between the two brothers like an impenetrable wall, prying them apart. “That is enough, I have seen what I needed.” Polaros bellowed as he gently pulled Ymir off of his brother, separating the two. When the massive arm retreated the two infants were left panting for breath on opposite sides of the incubator before being swiftly scooped up by technicians.
“This one will make a fine warrior some day.” The head physician said, jotting a few final notes on his tablet. Polaros exhaled sharply as he listened, trying not to beam with pride. “They all will, I’ll make sure of it. Even the unhatched ones.” The physician turned, chuckling to himself as he did. “That is what every proud parent says. Now, let’s get these two in for testing. Would you like to stay and watch the remaining births?” Polaros nodded yes in response, his attention turned back to the incubator. “Very well.” The physician said in response to the wordless reply, motioning for his assistants to depart. Ymir trashed and struggled helplessly against his carrier’s grip, unwilling to leave his father. But alas, it was all for not. There was a small battery of tests yet to be done on the newborns. They were carted off to a different room of the hospice to be examined thoroughly before being returned to their father’s possession. And thus was the beginning of Ymir’s long life.