ISO

Schmiggot turns towards the group before him, a signature frown written on his hollow face. The group before him looks worn down, beat up, and sad. They look up at him like a leader, when in fact, he is not. He is only the strongest out of the five of them. Miggs was raised as a ruthless warrior, showing little to no empathy to those he takes his anger out on. Miggs stands before them with his chest puffed and his feet shoulder length apart. He has his hands behind his back in a military-like manner. His black puffy hair sits atop his head, hanging in front of his bright pink eyes in certain spots. His french grey skin is hidden behind a layer of black muck and acid. Before him stands his group. Schmato, his former High Guard warrior friend; Schirp, his follower friend who was only in the Sch Clan to be supportive; and finally Scheep and Schmanti, his old apprentices. The Sch Clan that they were raised in is now their enemy.

The Sch Clan used to be their home. They all had ranks within the clan that gave them purpose. Schmiggot and Schmato used to be high up on the ranks- classified as the higher-ups. Among him was the leader named Schmee, the Deputy in Command and his trainer, Schmaw, and finally the High Mage named Schyaa. There were two more that were promoted, but Miggs paid no mind to them. The higher-ups became corrupt, and Schmiggot had gathered an army of his own in response. The people standing before him all were against how corrupt the higher-ups became, and decided to revolt. They took to the skies and flew away from where the clan resides. They now reside in a treehouse a forest over from the Clan’s location where the trees have started to grow greener and the flowers bloom.

One hundred feet in every direction grows sugarcane. In the center of the circle stands a treehouse that is a sight for sore eyes. The treehouse itself stands built on a great oak tree and is assembled using planks and stumps that were cleared out to make the sugarcane farm. The treehouse is lopsided and fairly cramped, but it’s a new beginning for those within the ISO- which is what this rebel group likes to call themselves. Each member has their own small room built on separate branches of the great oak tree. The rooms themselves are just boxes big enough to sleep in, but the small bit of privacy is a nice change from the straw huts they used to sleep in. Schmiggot spends most of his time tending to the sugarcane, anyhow. 

Schmato taps his foot, the rickedy boards below him whining in retaliation at any movement. He stands at a slightly shorter height than Miggs, usually their height indicating what rank they are. Next to him are Manti and Scheep. They are the same height, at about Schmato’s chest. Schmanti has poofy black hair- almost an afro. Their hair is parted strategically to cover their right eye. They have dark brown skin and rosy cheeks and seem to always smile. Scheep has similar hair to Schmanti, but with less friz. She has french grey skin like Miggs and bright salmon eyes. Next to those two stands the shortest Schirp. She is a whole head shorter than Scheep and Schmanti. She has long wavy black hair that is pulled into a ponytail with bright white skin.

The whole group looks impatient, wanting to get out of the treehouse and take action. Miggs nods, opening his wings. The group immediately perks up, their ratted appearance not bothering them anymore. They open their wings and one by one, led by Miggs, they jump out of a window and take off, flying towards where the forest dies and shrivels.

Miggs has a look of determination as an evil grin spreads across his face that reveals his razor sharp teeth. His hot pink eyes flicker with excitement and his fists clench. He hasn’t had the opportunity to battle anybody in a long time, and the excitement courses through his veins. His sole purpose before being rebellion was to fight. He had no thoughts or opinions of his own besides to fight and hunt. Now, though, he has a mind of his own. He can make his own decisions and actions. The freedom courses through his veins. He isn’t their puppet with claws and teeth anymore.

The group follows behind him like a flock of geese, them soaring gracefully and purposefully. The forest below them turns to off shades of green and brown- looking almost radioactive. The trees twist into contorted shapes and the grass shrivels. Pools of black acid reside in every crevice available. Once oak trees stand covered in a layer of thick acid that has the colors of an oil spill in a lake. It’s an old home to Schmiggot and the others. They land with a single swoop, nodding to each other in silent agreement.

Before any of them take a step, rustling sounds from the mangled bushes nearest to them. They all hear it- their ears honed to hunting small prey and hearing enemies before they become visible. Schmiggot springs forward, his wings tucked close to his back. He tackles the bush and pins the enemy to the ground with a nasty snarl. 

Schyaa lays there with an annoyed expression, them never showing Schmiggot any other type. They are much shorter than Schmiggot, long wavy black hair hanging in their face. Like Miggs, they have gauges in their ears- indicating a high rank. They have a dark grey complexion with the red of anger reflecting on their cheeks. Schmiggot has the fire of bloodlust in his eyes as a grin stretches across his face. He raises his sharpened claw into the air with malicious intent. 

Before he can move any farther, he feels a tugging at his bare foot. A vine entangles him and yanks him backwards with unrelenting force, sending him smacking into a tree across the path. Schyaa has a flicker of light shine from their light magenta eyes, indicating the use of their magic.

The rest of the group assembles to ward off Schyaa, knowing well that they can only hold them off for so long. Schmato takes the lead after Miggs, being the second strongest. His short pitch black hair moves in the wind as he growls. Acid foam pools around the corner of his lips, dripping down his chin. Schmato slashes his wrist with his dagger as black blood oozes onto the gravel below. His hand contorts and reforms, hissing like the sound of acid dissolving metal. His hand reforms slowly into the shape of a dagger- pitch black in color. Schmato wastes no time to attack. He charges at Schyaa and makes to stab them with his newly formed dagger. 

“You warriors, always predictable.” Schyaa spits. “Stupid.” 

Overhead, Schmiggot flies above the trees. He spots Schyaa and the others fending them off and takes a nosedive, heading straight towards Schyaa. He may not have magical skills, but he is a fierce hunter and an even fiercer warrior. He folds his wings in to gain speed as he descends closer and closer. Schyaa, distracted by avoiding Schmato, doesn’t see him coming. He slams into Schyaa’s side, shoving them into the gravel below with a loud hiss. They ram into a tree next to them and they both glare daggers at each other, Schyaa refusing defeat as usual.

“I was running away too!” Schyaa hisses in pain. “They wouldn’t let me love a non-Sch.”

Schmiggot and the others tilt their heads. They don’t believe a word of what they say. Schmiggot’s ears pick up on a sound about a yard away. He snaps his head towards it and snarls. Schmato stands up and braces himself to attack. Schmanti and Scheep grab their weapons- a battle axe and a whip. 

Out of the bushes come walking the high and mighties themselves- Schmee and Schmaw. They both stand a head taller than Schmiggot, walking with a powerful and egotistical stride that seems to place them above anybody else. Schmee blue wings, short balck hair, dark grey skin, and the physique of a stick. Schmaw has dark purple wings, short curly black hair, and a muscular physique. They both have their wings halfway out to appear bigger than they already are.

“We banished your kind. You aren’t welcome here.” Schmee states flatly. 

“We ran away,” Schmiggot replies, the tastes of salt ingrained into his tongue. “We don’t follow your orders anymore.”

Schmiggot stands up, elbowing Schyaa one last time in the windpipe. He dusts himself off and examines his newly shredded wing with a slight shrug. Schmiggot cracks his neck, ready for another fight. “I am not your warrior puppet anymore. I’m my own person. I fight for myself and my people.”

“So be it.” Schmaw responds, spitting onto the ground with hatred.

Schmaw rolls up the sleeves of their sweatshirt, revealing their muscles. Schmiggot, in a mocking manner, rolls up the sleeves of his disheveled white dress shirt. Schmiggot’s tie has fallen off- that used to be the tell that he was a high guard. Schmiggot stomps on it and the acid in the ground swallows it whole with a gurgling sound. Schmiggot knows in the back of his mind that he will lose. There’s no doubt about it. The only advantage he has is that he knows the land. He has learned everything he knows from Schmee and Schmaw. 

The breeze picks up as the contorted trees rustle. Black shiny leaves fall to the ground at their feet and shrivel. Animals have long since been hunted or converted to acid creatures in the barren wasteland that the Sch takes up. No shred of life remains except for the acidic creatures of the Sch species. The acid has wrapped around them and sunk deep into their blood, converting them into monsters. Schmee is the origin. Schmee had arrived thousands of years ago and had since converted hundreds to their clan. The acid takes control of the brain of the host and turns them into a mindless drone into Schmee’s system. The members of the ISO had found a way to break the chain. They can finally be free. They have found a way to access their memories from before being turned into an Sch. This is what makes Schmee furious.

Schmaw strikes first. He runs at Schmiggot with his wings outspread. The gravel beneath their feet kicks up dust in their wake. Schmiggot and Schmato band together and collectively jump into the air, leaving Schmaw running past them. Schmee awaits for them in the air, and uses their hind legs to kick the two back to the ground. Dust flies out from under them when they land. Schmiggot feels his wings bending underneath him in an uncomfortable fashion. Schmiggot wastes no time to stand up. This time it’s his turn to strike. He shoots up into the air with a jump and headbutts Schmee, grabbing onto their shirt. He opens his mouth and bites at their wing, causing the webbing to rip painfully. Schmee falls to the ground and Schmiggot hisses, his eyes glazed over with bloodlust.

Schmato gets up not long after Miggs. He runs at Schmaw with his wings tucked in, not wanting the same fate as Schmee. With his hand still formed into a sharp dagger, he stabs at Schmaw- aiming for the neck. Almost instantaneously, Schmaw’s dark skin scales over and solidifies like built in armor. Schmaw frowns, disappointed in such a bland move. In the split second that Schmaw is distracted, Schmato pulls out a whip from his back belt loop, and wraps it around Schmaw’s leg. With one swift downward motion of his wings, Schmaw is yanked into the sky with Schmato, dangling by their leg. 

    Schmanti, Schirp, and Scheep stand back to back in a triangle. Schyaa circles them like a lion entrapping their prey. They’re about the same in height, so Schyaa’s only threatening feature is their large wings. Schyaa eyes Schmaw and Schmee and then looks back at the three. “I want in,” she mouths to them. The three look at her in confusion, analyzing their face to tell if they’re lying. They spot no sign of it, and raise their brows in pure confusion. “I told Miggs why. I’m going to pretend to take you with me. Take me to where you live. Please.” They almost seem to be begging. The three nod along, and then begin slowly walking away from the fight to bring Schyaa home.

    The three ISO members take to the sky once they believe they are out of the fighting zone. Schmanti takes the lead with one swift gust of their wings, followed by Scheep, then Schirp. Schyaa looks up at them in slight confusion and then follows behind them with a slower pace. Schyaa had expected that the ISO would be hidden out in a remote location of the already dead forest- within walking distance. As the trees below them start to sprout leaves and the grass buds with ready to bloom flowers, the large sugarcane farm becomes within eyeshot.