What-if-Writer

(Warning: Spoilers for Shadow of the Dark Crystal)urOnze is in a swamp. He isn’t surprised, Mystics often cannot be, but he is alert. For a moment ago he was with urZah, looking at the twigs and stones they’d each dropped to then examine the patterns in which they fell. Then he’d slump, slept, and here he was, idly regarding the algae now clinging to his arms. His lower arms swished about the water, thick with muck and goop, and it isn’t unpleasant. In fact, it is rather warm, and a soft smile plays at his lip. But ah, he senses it – an imbalance in the ambiance, something off about the loud song of the swamp. Croaks sound afraid, jitters ...

Bird song had ceased. The sounds of the forest had halted, holding its breath, as the frightening figure moved along. SkekMal was tracking. It had been a while since he'd sensed intelligent prey. A broken twig, a bent leaf. Little signs. A very fresh and very obvious trail - someone wasn't careful.He spotted something in the muddy trail ahead.An imprint in the ground.The roughened finger dragged along the dirt. Feeling out the groove of the footprint. SkekMal sniffed the air. Could it be? Bloodshot eyes narrowing, he ran his tongue along his jagged, poisoned teeth in thought. Could it be possible? The footprint was undeniable. And such thi...

They appeared in the strange Chamber, that was positioned and built for access of such beings. That alone was a clue. SeptOnze clung to it and surveyed the dark and unwelcoming interior of the castle with apprehension. Or as much as he allowed himself to feel. His companion at his side, they tried to reach out with their minds for their fellow UrSkeks and found … none? Not even a trace, a snatch. But this was the exact place … The large brows of the tall, floating being rose in uncertainty. He called out for the one he was searching for. His voice rang gently off the walls. The two faced out from the centre of the room. It was a habit of t...

In another instance … it did not. “Never.” SkekUng’s voice, a mere croak against the tranquil silence, was like a stain. Jen almost say it in his mind – nice clean water, with some murky black ink spoiling it slowly but surely. Something had shifted, and the two gelfling turned to face the Skeksis, smiles fading; the sensation of them still tingling in their cheekbones. The moment of awe had passed. The UrSkeks seemed tense, intimidating in their own presence as they were. SeptOnze especially. Their brows seemed to move to convey worry; SaatHdax was frowning softly down at the collection of them. Their silence apparently invited the skeks...

  UrOnze fell quietly to the hall floor. The other UrRu, already having witnessed the demise of one of their ranks, regarded him solemnly, but without grief. It was only UrSaat, poised at the head of the group, that stopped. Inhaling deeply, he turned to stride back to the corpse, and lift it in his arms. It was almost there, the grief. Brimming below the surface, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough. Something was missing. Already, the others were ambling past them both. They had no time to wait. UrOnze’s limbs hung heavy towards the stone below. Face peaceful and empty in death. … The shouting had stopped. The calls, the threats. The skeksis...

The story goes as so. SilSol created the song, the song that called. Far, afar away, a pair or particular young Urskeks heard the chime. Already they were outcasts, renegades and apart, for between them blossomed something unique – but no less pure. And they thought the world from which the song called offered refuge, but instead the Crystal was waiting to snare them. Ripping the fragile sight from one, and the courage from the other. Ripping the fragile memories away. But not the bond. For in these shards, the truth prevailed. Wounds will always try to heal themselves; flesh will try to grow anew. The Crystal. Corrupted as it was, wanted...

“You’ll need this, waif!” SkekSept ducked as Augrah thrust something at him. Old habits are droll. Oh dear, what manner of ill-natured thing had she bestowed on him? The young skeksis dared a peak and found himself ogling something rather … shiny. A broach, plain in make but clearly made of riches; the design needn’t be extravagant when the material was so rare. “… What is it for?” “They should remain you ‘question’ eh?” Augrah leered from somewhere. He could pry his eyes away from the thing hovering in his face.   … The stones weren’t a tried and true method. But UrSaat felt something. Not quite restlessness. Things like feelings couldn’t...