Kenaj- The Old Man of Moiromma [Episode #28; “The Cadaverous Planets”]

In the plains and frozen frontiers of Moiromma, by the mountains of the far and grayer side of the planet, along the frozen waterways of northern Moiromma, under the weary eyes of Siren, grieving eyes of siren, grieving for the loss of her friends she left in the depths of the underworld of earth, in the Gulf Stream of Hades on a vessel, where she was drifting for months with her comrades and drowned herself trying to escape its forbidden waters; thus, she was grieving for the loss of her mother Jokaneen in addition, who was captured and brought to the vaults of Hell, and incarcerated until she lost her existence. Now she was born of her mother, young yet, but full grown, and on the land called Moiromma, a planet of mostly glaciers, and permafrost, and ice, underground tunnels, and to the south, cells of Moirommalit’s. But this far north, where she was, it was mostly uninhabitable. It is where she showed up suddenly. She was now standing on this frozen arctic planet, in silence, this ice planet in the galaxy her mother was morn into. She now was born into, now with no weapons, no resources, starving: she had imprints of all her mothers’ memories, her DNA, and plus some. She was a commander for a day, in the underworld, fighting the henchman, she felt great, the henchman called Agaliarept: who was more prudent than what she thought he’d be. She figured–during those months in the gulf waters, they’d all starve to death, and why provoke anymore problems on the docks of hell, when the sea would take care of them. Thus, he gave in to her wish, only to get rid of her, and her twenty, doomed warrior souls; and wherever they went, he could care less. But he never figured on resurrection on her part.

Regrettably, there was a new fate to face, she stood there naked in the arctic winds, looking for friend or foe, for anyone would do buying guide Best Axe For Splitting Wood 2022 . The gray pale dawn was all she had for light; she heard her mother’s voice, like she had heard it many times before; she heard it in her minds-eye.

‘The old man, see the old man, Kenaj.’ The voice stopped, and she tried to search her memory banks to find out who he was, she did have all her data, all her memory: her mother’s memory. But it was hard to retrieve in this frozen north side of Moiromma.

Ice-worms in space, yes indeed, I would not have believe it had it not been told to me by Tangor himself. And so I shall tell you what he told me: they are creatures from Moiromma, a planet outside our solar system, and they have a clutching grip, and a certain species of these even have talons (these do). Evidently they are thrown into space via volcanic disruptions on Moiromma, or by some gravitational pull by its moon, Ice-cap. They come out of the glaciers, and storm winds often hurl them into outer space, where they are transferred who knows where, but in this case: to Tangor’s Space Craft.

These creatures are of all sizes. In the colder regions of Moiromma, they grow to immense sizes. The Moirommalits eat these creatures, whole, everything goes into their system, and down to their digestive track willingly, deliciously. But Moirommalits are subhuman, that is to say, not quite of our species, and have of course many differences with human beings. I would not call them advance creatures, nor backwards, they are what they are: a species of its own, and are of a high intelligence. But I am getting a little off the track here.

The first time Tangor ate these creatures he had quite a bad experience, he almost died. Yet, his food supply was dwindling and he was hungry, and he discovered these worms. They had somehow, breached his ship; found a way to get in, and once in, breed like crazy. Swiftly, he found himself having worm stew, and worm soup, and worm this and that. But fate would play a vital role here, it did not allow his system to digest these worms as he’d like. And when he awoke one morning, several days of eating these maggots, he found dark circles all over his body. His skin crusty, his body and muscles aging, his nervous system sensitive, and his immune system, deactivated. Convulsions whisked into his every pore in his body. He fell into a dark and long sleep, nightmares filled his dreams. His breath was shallow. Illusions came. His pistol by his side, loaded with ammunition, he had pulled it out several times ready to kill himself, should the pain and strain continue to a degree he could not stand.

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