Happy Halloween!

So here's something we never mentioned about Naiad....

Happy Halloween! ^_^

Nenigin Oakwood

At 15 years of age and 4ft 11in tall Nenigin Oakwood features amongst the youngest and shortest interviewees we’ve had on the island.  Being shockingly blue with small antennae and huge wings it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that Nenigin is an insectoid anthropomorph. Perhaps less instantly obvious when meeting him is that he is of the damselfly variety. Not only that but he is younger brother to the luridly red Naiad, though why the two are vastly different eye-popping colours isn’t exactly clear. Sadly, as he informs us from the outset, they are the last survivors of Oakwood lineage and whilst they once worked together, he hasn’t seen his sister in many years.

Perhaps the most interesting point that isn’t visually apparent is that the Oakwood’s have Welkin ancestry, which makes Nenigin and Nai two of the rare few anthropomorphs who are also part-Fae.

Being part-Welkin undoubtedly has its advantages, particularly for one born as an insect anthropomorph. Needless for us to tell you that all Fae are born with a natural instinct for levitation, and thus can ‘fly’ from an early age and never have to learn the skill unlike the rest of us. However due to the two species opposing expected life spans, Nenigin is a fully-fledged adult in damselfly terms but merely an infant amongst the Fae.

So which is he? We ask in spurious excitement and intrigue because like yourselves we find discussing ancestry and genealogy with a fifteen year old about as fascinating as dishwater.

His grinning inconclusive response is, ‘well, I just have to wait and see.’ Obviously the possibility that he might drop dead in a couple of years either hasn’t occurred to or doesn’t bother Nenigin in the slightest, or maybe it just adds to the flavour of thrills he seeks on a daily basis. 

We’d like to say it saddens us to know that in a few short years his face might shrivel like a dried-up blueberry but having a perverse sense of humour we actually find it rather amusing. This might also be because regardless of the fact he is an adult amongst the damselfly we deem him as an irritating teenager, a boy full of naïve idealisms, endless energy and all those grandiose half-baked ideas about life that we swear we never possessed.

That said Nenigin is, in fairness, a gentle soul at heart, an easy-going lad who takes things in his stride and each day as it comes. He is thoughtful, considerate and has quite a measured personality for one so young. He is also the highly active type and tells us he likes extreme sports, magic and challenges but dislikes puzzles, ‘hatred’ and is strongly against war.

Being part-Fae means he found it relatively easy to learn magic and has progressed quickly in his chosen discipline. An intrepid thrill-seeker Nenigin tells us he chose to specialise in elemental magic with his focus being on fire in order to accumulate an array of impressive tricks such as fire breathing and juggling.  Although we assume he doesn’t literally mean ‘being on fire’ because to our knowledge insects aren’t particularly resilient to flames let alone flamethrowers.

Less of a surprise then that to learn that the Oakwood family have long been circus performers touring the globe with a troupe of amazing oddities called ‘Rynjik.’ This name translates quite literally as ‘mind force,’ which we hasten to add sounds mightily less impressive in translation but still succeeds in having a half-hearted jab at making a pun out of the word ‘force.’ The Rynjik troupe specialises in performers who possess unusual talents for their species, a weird and wonderful collective of potentially powerful individuals ready to ‘contort, contrive, disturb and surprise,’ all whilst dangling over pointy objects from perilous heights or submerged in the ‘agrusanc,’ which considering it means, ‘terror water,’ doesn’t actually sound or look all that terrifying. Prepare to be, ‘disturbed and amazed,’ the flyer tells us, however the only thing we find truly amazing is that the troupe has been at large for over a century.

Nenigin joyfully expresses how all of Rynjik’s employees are considered family even those who are not directly related and sings praise on how most of them have travelled together their entire lives. He tells us he was lucky enough to have been born into the troupe and that their way of life is simply ‘vaitsche.’

Which brings us nicely to our main point of contention because the most grating thing about Nenigin it that he seems to know only four adjectives; one is the Ordic word ‘trepid,’ whilst the other three stem from the Aftlands second major language of Mythic and Neni uses precisely none of them in the correct context.

Now we here at Black Wednesday’s aren’t renowned for being too strict when it comes to correct word usage but the Aftlands only have two spoken languages for good reason and bastardising the lesser-known of the two is even less endearing than corrupting the first.

Call it teenage colloquialism if you will but it becomes increasingly infuriating to hear him describe literally everything be it good or bad, as ‘trepid,’ (fearful) ‘vaitsche,’ (harsh), ‘vasche,’ (nasty) and ‘mhiern,’ (set). He explains that he means ‘nasty’ in a good way, like calling a challenge ‘brutal’ or ‘excellent’ and that he thinks, ‘harsh’ is a good substitute for ‘awesome.’ The word ‘set’ he simply litters in between everything else apparently to emphasise how ‘great’ or ‘cool,’ things are, or whenever he is lacking a descriptor. He also seems to use ‘trepid’ in place of the word ‘difficult’ which sounds to us like a deliberate waste of his brainpower and a good way to confuse people.

Or maybe we here at the studio are just old and aren’t ‘mhiern’ enough, or maybe calling us too ‘mhiern’ would be more appropriate, as in, ‘set in our ways.’ Nenigin doesn’t find our turnaround or teasing of his slang amusing. He defends the misappropriation as something everyone in the troupe does because they all, ‘have quirks,’ and they are, yeah you guessed it, ‘really mhiern, you know?’ No Neni we don’t know, but we guess by that he means that they are good, solid and reliable people.

Still if there’s one thing Nenigin feverishly describes as ‘vasche’ it’s putting on a show with Rynjik. He tells us he is happiest when pulling off a new stunt or particularly difficult trick for the audience, or in his words, ‘it’s vasche when I pull off a new one, I mean really vaitsche like and we’re all down there and it just happens, really trepid, like mhiern, really vasche to be in that moment you know?’

No, we don’t, stop asking. And for the love of Luk learn to speak.

Thankfully Nenigin’s role in the circus is a silent one because rest assured, if any of us even so much as hear the words ‘vaitsche,’ ‘vash,’ or ‘mhiern,’ misused near us in the next week, we shall set about doing something harsh and nasty to whoever dares utter them.

Sable Skye

Well the holiday is over, though I’m not sure if it ever got started, still, we are more than grateful that our first interviewee upon returning is not a spider, lycan, vampire or any other such nightmarish thing but instead is quite literally a fox.

Actually saucy-looking Sable, as we discover, is a half-fox anthropomorph who is 32 years old and a reassuringly regular 5ft 7in tall. Not only that but she is a pleasure to speak to throughout our interview. Being half-fox means she naturally possesses sharp vision, a heightened sense of smell, excelled hearing and as she jests; a fabulous sense of humour. A vivacious, fun-loving, and good-spirited soul Sable readily displays her quick wit and charm; which, as she is swift to point out, sounds like a euphemism. 

Now Sable looks good and she knows it. Thus as an openly feisty, no-nonsense redhead Sable likes to flirt and exploit her feminine wiles to the utmost. Possessing high cheekbones, a cheeky smile and the added innocence of some cutesy dimples it’s no wonder that our employees are falling all over one another to speak to her. That’s without mention of the tight-fitted denims she is parading which make those shapely legs of hers appear to go on forever. Plus for those that like tails Sable maintains a slender and neatly-groomed auburn brush that is tipped with white. Like many part or half anthropomorphs she also has small claws instead of fingernails and slightly elongated canine teeth.

When asked about her interests Sable quickly quips, ‘sex and money.’ We should have expected this snappy and audacious response but somehow her coquettish smirk catches us off guard. Evidently Sable is a woman who knows her own mind; she won’t stand for being bossed around and likes to have the upper hand. She tells us her pet hates are smokers, drunks and liars; sadly for us this covers most people in our office, if not everyone on the island. 

For the most part Sable is a reasonable and well-tempered lady, however as she coyly divulges, she does have a sly, secretive side, a more sneaky and covert nature that she uses when moonlighting for information. She explains that her preferred tactic when gleaning a target is to side-step confrontation by acting dumb, fluttering her eyelashes and pouting, presumably until the opposition folds in exasperation. However whilst Sable might act like a brainless bimbo to get what she wants we soon learn that she is highly educated. 

A well-practiced mechanic and proficiently seasoned pilot she works as a senior engineering technician. This requires a complex understanding of aviation, including maintenance, repair and upgrade. Lucky for Sable she boasts unparalleled piloting skills and a vast technical intelligence that is swathed in experience. She tells us she is capable of complex manoeuvres in a new vehicle within the first few flights and always outshines her co-workers much to their irritation.

This might, as she reveals, have something to do with the fact she has the minor ability to control the weather, particularly the wind. Quite the talent for anyone to have but in Sable’s case it is likely the reason for her choice of profession and also the reason she is so damn good at it. At least she is not the vaunting type when it comes to aviation. Speaking with a refreshing lack of hubris about her achievements it is clear that she doesn’t take her abilities lightly, never abuses her weather talent and genuinely enjoys her work.

Sable talks with great enthusiasm about the times when she gets to take her mini-scooter out for a spin and perfect manipulating the surrounding atmosphere. Obviously, she explains, the larger the craft the harder it is for her to alter the mass of air and pressure so flying with a small and light scooter is exhilarating; it makes her feel as light, fast and free as the wind itself.

Understandably then Sable is rather house-proud of her vehicles and to some extent her own appearance. Blushing, she admits to being fairly vain but not in an unhealthy or deconstructive way. She tells us that getting grubby and oily in the workshop or having mucky clothes doesn’t bother her since she quite likes the smell of gasoline but that she incessantly scrubs her fur clean and is particular about conditioning and preening her luscious red locks.

Well liked in the flying community Sable explains that she likes to wind down at the end of the day by having a drink with the lads in the bar. She is quick to assure us that she never drinks on duty and displays an overly-passionate loathing towards, ‘those sleazy drunken bastards who leer all over everyone,’ as she delicately puts it. 

Then with a grin she admits that getting her target drunk is one the more successful methods of acquiring money and information, because, as she says, ‘liquor loosens their purse strings as much as their tongues.’ Also as much as she professes to despise the inebriated she admits they sometimes prove entertaining. She relays that her recent favourite ‘gem’ of a one-liner posed through the bleary-eyed haze of alcohol is, ‘imagine that, I found a fox amongst all these twittering birds!’

Which leads us nicely to the question we’ve been dying to ask since she arrived: why does she have the word ‘fox’ tattooed on her right arm?  

‘In case I forget,’ is her facetious reply. Although we suspect the real reason is because drunks frequently mistake her for a cat, or worse a squirrel, seeing as being likened to a squirrel would somewhat negate her instated sexy image.  

All in all we very much enjoyed interviewing Sable. As a delight to behold, exploring her many assets has been a pleasure and none here are likely to forget the allure of her well-rounded whimsy any time soon.

And yes, that time we were trying to be euphemistic.

Xio Mar

Now I mentioned in the last interview how lycans were high on our ‘crap-yourself-and-run’ index and that we have a compiled list of those species we consider most terror-inducing, so I should probably start this article by clarifying that not many things evoke the ‘kill me now’ kind of fear in us as spiders.

Therefore you might say ‘we weren’t best pleased’ to learn that this week’s interviewee was going to be an almost 7ft arachnid anthropomorph that is, if you wanted to make a gross understatement.

In fact those of us hoping beyond hope that this experience would somehow alleviate our abject terror of arachnids were instead rudely reminded why we cry ourselves to sleep at night and that insomnia really is our only friend because whilst Nico turned out to be a most pleasant man the same cannot be said for Xio Mar.

Being pre-warned that this Xio is prone to act more on instincts than thought and that he may unconsciously react in a violent manner only served to heighten our anxieties. The instruction was specific that we shouldn’t approach him in any way that might trigger his reflexes unless we wanted to be deftly wall-pinned or view our own innards. 

Now this was fine by me as I hadn’t planned on approaching Xio at all and had drawn several complex plans of combined mystery illnesses and traffic malfunctions to get out of being in the same room at any cost. As a last resort I even decided I could spend the entire interview hiding in the closet with feigned insanity. However in order to save face (and my neck under zero threat of severe punishment from my superiors) I decided to be brave, persevere and stand up to one of my greatest fears.

Although I actually had to sit down, and ‘sitting down to one of your greatest fears,’ sounds markedly less like overcoming terror and increasingly more like inviting it in for tea and biscuits with a defibrillator on hand just for kicks.

It didn’t help to know that Xio Mar stands a little over 6ft 6in tall and is widely seen as a cunning weapons expert at the top of his game. At 36years old he is considered an aged member of his species who naturally possesses increased dexterity and strength in each of his eight limbs and (joy of joys) can jump extraordinarily high. Extremely attuned to his surroundings he also exhibits a frighteningly swift reaction time to even the slightest vibration. Two small blessings are that jumping spiders don’t spin webs and Xio has no known relatives that might suddenly decide to pop up for an interview or take grievance with us.

Much to everyone but the security guards relief he is so overloaded with guns when he first arrives that by the time he checks in his multitude of weapons our interview time is reduced by at least a third. We let him keep the bullet-stocked bandoliers and strappings that adorn many of his limbs, mostly because we are on the clock but also because a 6ft 6in naked spider isn’t any less terrifying to us than one whose chest back and legs are bound by magazine clips and darts. 

When Xio finally enters he sits bolt upright in the provided seat with all three sets of arms folded and just stares at us. In the sturdy impenetrable silence that follows we presume we are staring back with mouths suspended in chagrined horror; however the cold shock of meeting Xio is rather paralytic and as such no notes were taken. Whether our obvious fear bothered him or not is, even now, utterly unfathomable, since unlike the previous cutthroat mercenaries we have interviewed Xio is calm and level-headed to the point of being flat and hence is nigh on impossible to read.

He humourlessly waits instead, in that lifetime of silence, for us to begin asking the questions. In response all of his answers are fast, short and icily precise making it impossible to warm to any aspect of his chilling persona. We suspect he doesn’t like being questioned but it’s pretty hard to tell if he actually likes or dislikes anything unless he unequivocally tells us so in that straight up, cold-as-a-corpse-slapped-on-the-mortuary-table voice of his.

Having so many limbs, eyes and guns it is obviously difficult for anyone to get the drop on Xio, plus sensing vibrations means that even when blindfolded he has a good idea of where his enemies are at all times. A lover of the shadows and silence, we learn he is impatient in conversation, that he intensely dislikes indirect questioning and also any form of narrative embellishment to the bare facts. Being a man of action he hates boasters who ramble on about their conquests and we are quick to pick up on the fact that the less you say and the more you do, the more likely it is that he will tolerate you; we say tolerate because we’re pretty sure he’s incapable of actually liking anyone. 

Xio knows he’s the best in his field of expertise but isn’t conceited enough to be grandiose about it. Quite simply he tells us he likes ‘facts and guns.’ And as his records confirm Xio does have a fantastic amount of technical knowledge when it comes to weaponry. Although guns are his prime speciality from what we are told he also seems to have no problem with crossbows or blades. In close-quarter combat his preference is hand-to hand-to-hand, because, as he sharply states, ‘it is far easier and faster to over-power an opponent with strength than to faff about with a prissy little knife.’ 

When it comes to ultimate preference we are informed that he ‘favours smgs’ (that’s sub-machine guns to you and I) since they are single-handed weapons and he can hold six at once to cover all directions. He tells us that he keeps spare clips strapped to his body for fast reloads without the need of a free hand, because well, we presume even six hands are never enough. When using two-handed guns, Xio states that he likes to take two for firing forward and a third behind his back so he can quickly switch the reloads and maintain continuous fire. 

Whilst obviously not a people-person Xio does have a merry band of unsavoury acquaintances who work for him in the deep underground of Naiva; previous interviewees Charrock, Argo and Si'Ra were in fact quite high up in his chain of command until the four of them had a falling out. Xio is tight-lipped about the affair, which isn’t exactly surprising as there doesn’t seem to be anything he isn’t tight-lipped about.

Yet as it stands Xio still works at the forefront of this ‘dark arts’ troupe, a crime boss of sorts, although he is not their leader so much as the guy who currently has the most firepower, money and biggest reputation for murdering anyone who doesn’t do as instructed. We are told anyone can join his troupe though it isn’t highly recommended as the death toll for newcomers by their peers is remarkably high.

We doubt he views his organisation as a criminal one seeing as anything together enough to be organised in any sense of the word is a blessing in the cities of Vidul. An every, man, fish, dog and spider for himself kind of place, the lowest of the low reside in the interconnected tunnels and caves that run beneath the island of Naiva.  From there Xio and his workers largely provide protection rackets, grand ‘retrieval’ missions (better known as larceny) and of course the thing his troupe is most renowned for; assassination.

We doubt he has any hobbies outside of work and honestly daren’t ask. 

Thinking about other aspects of this man’s life, such as what he eats for example quite frankly scares the beluk out of us. Needless to say all breathe a sigh of relief when the interview finally ends. Cheerless as ever Xio passes us a business card on his way out of the door and we don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Beatrix Icini

Special thanks go to Petrina for this wonderful character concept. Inspired by a dream Petrina had, all her fabulously detailed input made writing Bea’s interview a breeze! (I guess that should be a sea breeze? :P)

Standing at a lofty 6ft 5in tall, Beatrix is an attractive and highly knowledgeable woman. One could be forgiven for mistakenly thinking she possesses wisdom beyond her years since despite being over a century old her countenance remains fresh and she appears to be more spry than most of the thirty year-olds in our office. In fact our female employees enviously decide that living on a glacier means Bea’s face got frozen in time and refuse to admit that they wish the same fate applied to their far-less-than-a-century-old wrinkles.

As consolation they point out that whilst Bea may have a stunningly young face she does have thunderously wide hips and carries an unflattering amount of weight on her lower half. They also note that her off-white fur is somewhat grubby and whilst her gnarled yellowing nails might be good for snagging a handful of fish they are in desperate need of a manicure. The men in the office remain mysteriously quiet during this ‘discussion’ whilst Beatrix simply sits and patiently listens to their snipes with a wizened smile in her glittering eyes.

We later learn this was probably because Beatrix dislikes sharing her thoughts if she feels her remarks are unsolicited. That and the fact that being a half-anthropomorphic polar bear, Beatrix naturally possesses a whole host of superior talents, including sharp eyesight, an inborn ability in the water, above average physical strength and stamina, keen ears and an acute sense of smell which she confesses isn’t always a blessing particularly when the local harbour has an overflow of rotten fish.

A modest soul, there is nothing needy about Beatrix, she clearly savours every interaction during the interview but is never cloying or clingy. Her attitude is perhaps much like her attire; uncomplicated and inexpensive, designed for function over fashion with one exception: the jewel that adorns her neck is instantly recognisable, a sizeable and particular-cut sapphire known as ‘star of the north.’ Earning tenure of this gem is no easy task, it symbolises that Beatrix is currently appointed guardian and guide of her northern homeland.

A fantastic listener Bea is a slow and steady thinker; irrefutably considerate she weighs all factors of a situation before reaching a conclusion and despite her swathes of experience never presumes to have all the answers. If there’s one thing that she ardently believes it’s that ‘there is always something more to learn.’

She never actively seeks the company of others but instead allows them to come to her. She knows that people must move in their own patterns and considers their transitions as rhythmic as the flow of the tide. Happily her counsel is often sought. Familiar friends and new acquaintances alike know of her wisdom and that she can be found most days atop Auspoint rock, dreaming and watching the world go by.

Ever-attentive she tries to always be genuinely engaged when conversing, however much to her disdain she sometimes finds the lure of the sea too powerful and drifts off into fantasies of watching the waves and melding with the universe. She is devastated when this happens and apologises profusely when she thinks she has given the impression that she wasn’t paying attention.

Being alone is never troublesome to Beatrix as she uses the solitude to allow her thoughts to drift free until she feels unified with the swirling echoes of the sea and can feel every particle of the salt-tinged breeze running through her hair. Bea is most passionate about water and ice, especially as when the world stands frozen still it provides her with a cool and reflective space for contemplation. She relates that she can think of nothing better than being warmly wrapped in cold weather, steam rising from her wet nose and breath freezing as a cloud of shimmering droplets in the frigid ether. She expresses too that when the ocean is warmer and glassy how she loves the fact that she can look down into the sky and simultaneously witnesses all the colours above and below as though the world is unending. Then lastly she tells us with glee that when the water moves she knows it is the glint of her favourite snack; teeming shoals of tiny, slippery, and crunchy little fish.

When asked about work Beatrix describes herself as currently ‘beyond profession,’ which we assume is a convoluted way of saying, ‘retired.’ As you might expect Beatrix has had many jobs in her lifetime ranging from a jinxed ships skivvy, to wayward lighthouse keeper, to a cartographer and local marine life specialist before finally settling down to open a restaurant and illustrate a recipe book with her own form ‘Gyotaku.’ Now ‘Gyotaku’ was a new one on us so to clarify it is a form, ‘fish slapping’ art. Yes literally painting one side of a fish or other crustacean and slapping said (presumably deceased) sea life against a bit of equally dead driftwood or bark and then admiring the inky results, yum.

Of her less disgusting hobbies Beatrix professes to enjoy sand sculpting and rock painting, gazing at the sea, swimming, sitting on a sun-baked rock and dipping her toes into warm rock pools.

Whilst many goals have come and gone in Beatrix’s lifetime, she claims that she finally feels free of such diversions. Bea states that if the years have taught her anything it’s that ‘whatever we busy ourselves with, the sun keeps rising each morning, the tide will always come in, the big fish still chase the little fish and people will always have questions.’ Somehow all these constants appear to converge right where she sits. So she waits atop Auspoint rock and everything that gives her joy presents itself to her. She credits the place itself for ‘lending an intense sense of insight and comfort,’ a serene contentment in knowing that it is exactly where she’s meant to be.

Bea doesn’t seem to have any particular self-opinion, which whilst it’s refreshing to speak to a non-narcissist it is also strange to hear someone reflect that they find the word, ‘self’ peculiar. She explains that her gaze is so often focused on the incoming waves, or the deeper ocean (we imagine she’s just eyeing up tell-tale splashes of those fish she keeps harping on about), or way out to the horizon her awareness of ‘self’ extends far beyond her physical body.  We suppose that makes sense, as a detached, floaty, ‘everything is one,’ kind of truism.