Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing! Locus and Locus: Godslayer are owned by the extremely talented Adam Black. VIEW THE GLORY (if you're 18+, that is - the tagline for the original comic wasn't "Boobs, Blood and Bad Language" for no reason)! I COMMAND IT! Mr. Black needs more fucking love.
So far as Locus is concerned, if you're offended by the non-sexual display of female breasts or bad language (if the second offends you, why the hell are your reading /my/ material?), then stay away. But if you've got one iota of maturity and can appreciate the hard work he puts into weaving his fascinating stories about his extremely memorable and enjoyable characters, go forth! Visit locuscomics. com (remove the space) for the first comic, and once you've decided that you love this man, head to locusgodslayer. com (remove the space once again) and support him to get the new comic.
Oh yeah. And HEY ADAM! YOU KNOW I HAZ NO MONIES. Plus he asked me to write fanfiction for him, so no way in hell am I violating any copyright shit. :) Enjoy!
-BEGIN FIC-
A yawn, a stretch and a mighty arch of sleep-stiffened arms greeted a brilliant sun cresting above picturesque snow-capped mountains. A playful breeze danced over pale skin barely covered by pastel blue silk pajamas, rustling through leaves and thick blades of grass, stirring flower petals with its nearly silent song. Somewhere in the canopy of thick greenery above a bird chirped, answered bare moments later by another before the entirety of the forestall scene burst into song.
Lifting one sharply-nailed finger, Locus brushed long tendrils of purple hair from her face even as she finally allowed her thick black lashes to part and allow the distant star's light to grace her sky-colored irises. Another yawn passed her lips as she sat up and idly rubbed the back of her neck.
"Sleep well, Godling?"
Instantly on high alert as the voice boomed through the suddenly still air, Locus sprang away from the bed of moss and flowers she'd been nesting in. Tumbling through the thick grass that surrounded her, she looked to the bits of blue that peeked through the trees' imposing cover.
She'd recognize that voice anywhere – the Goddess of Blades, her serpentine form glittering emerald in the early morning sun and her brilliant red feathers creating their own ghastly breeze as they flapped, soared overhead.
Thick blades of bloody metal streamed into the ground from the heavens, each impact rattling the landscape and driving geysers of rock and dirt spraying into the canopy above. Colliding with thunderous thumps and booms that screamed of power and mass, the river of razor-sharp shrapnel poured throughout the forest, shredding every living thing they connected with – grass burst into flames, flowers melted into ash, birds exploded into puffs of dust and blood.
Without thought, Locus pressed her fist to her palm.
Panic overtook her as she retrieved a barbeque fork instead of her intended weapon, Unaph'to Xel'Duum.
"Wait a second…" she muttered to herself.
The next moment, she screamed as those enormous blades pounded into her, tearing her pajamas as well as the flesh and bone underneath them to shreds.
Her eyes snapped open. "A dream…?" she softly breathed as she beheld a brown ceiling above, carved of unimpressive and cracked stone.
She cautiously ran her fingers over her body, feeling its unmarred skin covering flesh that was decidedly not pulverized into oblivion. After brushing her fingertips over her tight tank top and short denim shorts, she felt the surface below her, wrinkling her nose as she found it to be a slab of that same brown, cracked stone. Her fingers danced along snarls in its ancient carved ruins, imperfections that degraded its already questionable craftsmanship.
Sliding her bare legs off the slab as she sat upright, she cast her gaze to her surroundings.
She swallowed harshly as her eyes met with Hampstead's, his verily glowing from beneath his bushy black eyebrows.
"Welcome," he greeted, his voice thick and deep as he bowed his head towards her. Then shuffling to his left, dragging his impressively heavy robes along with his scrawny frame, he held a hand to his side to direct her attention to what he'd been standing before.
The small, lithe woman in her skeletal armor opened her eyes, the sound of thick blood glopping as the clots that had sealed her eyelids shut were popped. Her movements were slow, almost painful, as she rose from her seat, paying Hampstead no mind as he collapsed into prostration at her side. Unseeing white eyes directing their god-like gaze towards Locus, she took one step forward, the sound of ancient armor's clatter buried by the thick layer of gooey lubricant the seeping viscous vitae that verily oozed from its construct.
"Locus," she hissed, her voice nearly silent yet overpowering.
Locus squeaked as she fell backwards off the slab of stone and clonked her head solidly against the floor.
With a groan she opened her eyes and stared at the blood-red sky above. "Oh come on…" she groaned to herself even as she pried her nude body off ground, brushing herself with a free hand to knock sand off her skin.
"Too slow, dear!"
She immediately crumpled again as her Aunt Silk whacked her over the back of her head with the butt of her sword.
The world rocked and rolled, the thumping of Locus' heart in her chest migrating away from her blood and instead meeting her ears from the outside world. The sand under her cheek felt more and more like roughly hewn wood, the more she focused on it, and her naked skin wasn't so bared – rather, she felt as if she were swathed in scratchy wool and thick animal hide.
The howl that roared through the air forced her eyes to instantly open and her body to bolt upright.
She couldn't help but stare at the huge werewolf that stood by her side, stein of mead in one hand and a hammer in the other with his thick leather skirt flapping in the roaring wind that poured over the wild waves of the ocean.
The Viking ship creaked as it rampaged through the terrible storm, its masts creaking under the weight of heavy, tattered sails and powerful winds, its draconic prow proudly snarling its eternal rage at the waters before it as it consumed them with every dive from the crest of an ocean swell. Lightning bolts danced their deadly pirouettes through the heavens, their heels nipped by the huge crashing booms of thunder that threatened to destroy the young woman's sensitive eardrums with their earth-shattering might. Rain pummeled the ocean and the vessel that braved its fury, the only means of differentiating it from the wild spray of waves being the lack of salt as it drenched every being daring to face nature's wrath to their very bones.
The wolf turned and growled at her, his sharp fangs pressed into a grimace of a smile. "Want a hit?" he offered, opening the small leather pouch at his side that she'd not noticed among the wildly flapping pleats of his skirt and procuring a finely crafted pipe and a small pinch of green leaves.
"Sure."
She puffed away until the boat was washed over by the ocean's rage and she lost sight of the vessel, blue swimming over her vision when lightning burst through the clouds above the surface before everything faded to black.
Groaning, Locus pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Damn it, how old was that pizza?"
She heard scampering by her side followed by claws digging into the top of the couch she was currently laying on. "Dunno," a tiny, merry voice chirped. "Found it on the floor last week. Still tasty!"
A moan slid from her as she turned to bury her head into the cushion she'd been using as a pillow. "Slip… you know better."
"But when you eat it you make funny noises in your sleep."
A bare moment was wasted to hurl a spare cushion at her cousin before Locus closed her eyes once more, willing herself to dream what she desired to dream rather than experiencing the results of eating penicillin in food format.
-end-
A/N: How the hell is there no other Locus fanfiction here?! Join me, peeps! It's awesome! :P
I can't be the only person here. I mean, c'mon! Look at that fic you just read! Who writes this shit? LOL