[Inaius] Chosulk Cooperative

THEIR WORLD

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Chosu from orbit

A frigid orb tumbles like an oversized comet around the dim light of the star Ragalsh. Snow covers most of its surface, but between the frozen seas are dits of orange, blue and violet. The orange is magma, pouring from the heart of a world pressured by the tides of seven moons, each of which pulls harshly on the waters and flames below. The blue is liquid water, evaporating, cooling, toyed with by the tides and weather but present where it is warm enough. The violet is flora, what plant life can flourish on a world with a dim star and blizzards dimming out the light. In modern times, a fourth light emerges, the colour of sulfur- the artificial light of the population’s urban centres.


This is Chosu.


The water here is not pure. It is tainted with ammonia, and even that is not enough to keep the world from freezing over. The frigid atmosphere is always filled with falling clouds or swirling shards of ice. Volcanic activity fuels life here, making areas warm enough for plants to grow. The soil in these active zones is fertile, replenished by magma- the rest of the world is a barren expanse of glaciers, mountains, caves and long-abandoned land-reefs. Shells and bones are buried in the snow, preserved so that when a melt does occur, the land turns into a graveyard, a monument to the fallen and a testament of death’s power.


Life here has faced many challenges. Born in unstable oceans, frozen over or boiled in a flash, microbes here are designed to encyst. Even the cells of complex creatures are filled with antifreeze proteins to keep the cold at bay. The only fertile land is filled with fire, and fire spreads- these unpredictable conditions have led to a nomadic lifestyle among most species. Herbivores devour as much as they can at each volcanic oasis before moving on to the next. Carnivores follow, snatching their prey and swiftly fleeing before they can be themselves assaulted. Those with homes will drag prey to their lairs, maintaining a large supply to support the hibernation that comes each winter. Some are adapted to the frozen wastes, surviving for months without sustenance. Some burrow into the ice to find food in the pockets of water beneath. Some dare to inhabit the volcanic caverns, resisting the heat rather than the cold.


But for all its harshness, this world is ruled. One species, above all others, has come to dominate this alien planet.


THEIR KIND

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A Chosulk
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Size comparison between average Chosulk and human

They scuttle across the ice with six legs, their talons stabbing the ground like swords with each step. A long tail trails behind them, ending in four vicious bars. Wings unfurl like sails behind each thread, four membranes flapping as modified tendrils carry them into the sky. Their main bodies are shells covered in scratches, a central line giving way from the armour into a pulsating mass of probing antennae and falling tentacles. Tiny indents above each limb mark their eyes. Beneath are four slits, tendrils emerging from each like rigid tongues, curling to serve as their graspers. They chitter and grind the very front of their shell to make noise, feeling the vibrations in the ground and air as they move, striding and soaring, seeking prey to snatch.

They are the Chosulk, the snow-stalkers, and they have far more more horrors to their form than meets their many eyes.

The biochemistry of these creatures is based upon carbon and water, but ammonia is mixed in. Their internal organs must be kept at mildly basic pH levels. Their armour will protect them from volcanic scalds for a short time, but left in average Earthen conditions they would bake alive over the course of several hours. Their every cell can partially encyst to allow for a state of hibernation. Inside their viscous blood, antifreeze proteins allow them to survive the harsh cold, preventing ice crystals from forming within their veins. They also give their blood a faint yellow-green tinge. Though immune to carbon monoxide, they are vulnerable to halogens and especially to heavy metals.

The senses of a Chosulk are similar to those of a human in many regards, but they rely upon them to different degrees. They can sense vibrations in the air or ground based on touch and hearing. They have excellent perception of heat and balance. Their chemical senses, too, are quite effective. They can see in all directions save directly behind above or below, but their actual sight is quite blurry, needing touch to supplement it in many cases.

While content to scuttle on their legs for short journeys, one of the most impressive feats of the Chosulk is being able to sustain flight. Their four muscular membranes can carry them to a moderate height. They can hover but struggle to glide. Sustained flight is also exhausting for a Chosulk, and they often rely upon volcanic updrafts for longer travels.

While omnivores, Chosulks much prefer proper meat to the bland corals or resilient plants of their world. Naturally they are scavengers and hunters, sweeping in from above to snatch smaller creatures and paralyse them with vicious stings. They will devour eggs and meat, often together- though they will save the best meals for their young.

Each Chosulk is a hermaphrodite, exchanging gametes via secretions from the tail. The end stage of Chosulk reproduction is a nightmarish prospect, made all the more horrible by the relentless theatrics many of their cultures bring to it. Each The Chosulk approaches one of the paralysed, often live, animals kept in storage. It plunges its barbs in, keeping the creature unable to move or resist. Then, it drags the creature towards its mouth. A row of small needle-barbs rush forward- ovipositors. Each one tears through flesh to inject an egg. Parasitic larvae will soon form, growing and growing, devouring this prey from within. Sometimes, the afflicted prey is released into the wild to spread the dynastic legacy across the area. In other cultures, the prey is kept in captivity. It is common for mass injection rituals to occur. Also of note is that larvae can be injected as easily into fellow Chosulks as any other species.

THEIR PAST

Chosulk societies developed early on based upon their roosts and hordes. Using their tendrils, they constructed primitive nests and lairs to inhabit, carving away at land-reefs or digging small burrows to dwell within. In time, clusters of Chosulk began forming more complex semi-nomadic civilisation- they had to migrate every so often to keep up with their food sources. Group hunting occurred using flocks, snatching vast swathes of prey to consume or inject larvae into. On occasion, a twisted form of animal agriculture occurred, with captive creatures kept contained and forced to reproduce, culled when they grew enough and had enough young to keep the process ongoing. While erratic and prone to disasters wiping out the entire herd, this measure did assist in keeping Chosulk fed, and it is for this process that plant-based agriculture was pursued at all. Sustained floral agriculture was difficult, leading to a a form of hunter-gardening based around the sources of life that emerged, using volcanic soil for as long as possible then rushing away with the crop if an eruption was imminent. In time, this led to large and rapid nomadic farming operations across Chosu.

Interactions between early Chosulk groups took on a ritualistic yet pragmatic tone. Cooperation was possible, but rarely sustainable. Tribes migrated constantly to keep up food reserves, and the nature of volcanic oases led to ruthless competition. War on Chosu began as a contest for survival, and so even when ritualised, it was brutal. Many preferred weapons that would allow them to take captives for future use in consumption or larval development. Raiding hostile roosts was a lucrative endeavour if it could be done successfully. More and more complex technologies and tactics began to develop due to the pressure of competition, and the more extensive early civilisations began developing complex social hierarchies to manage having so many individuals.

Complex mining eventually led to the ability to perform magmatic irrigation, which itself permitted water irrigation. These capabilities were held only by the more advanced fledgling societies, which began to dominate their neighbours. Some made use of a tribute system, forcing the tribal roosts and nomadic flocks to give them food, slaves, and other such resources. Others still were more aggressive, exterminating any foreign nests they could overwhelm and using this new territory for their own purposes. In a world without continents, and with flight, armies could reach a long distance, and exceptionally erratic borders developed.

In time, more and more advanced technology and society led to the dominance of five major powers over the world, each of which was locked in a state of perpetual cold war with the others. For centuries, this was the state of things, with constant fighting over the largest sources of food, metals, oil, and every other valuable resources. Nomadic incursions were common but often ended in a bloodbath. More and more complex machines were developed, including advanced geothermal energy systems and the earliest rockets. Initially used for war, some powers turned towards using these machines to enter space. A race was on, and each of the Five Powers soon launched into orbit, then towards the seven moons.

Soon enough, a new and terrifying concept emerged- alien life. If alien civilisations existed, reasoned the greatest thinkers of the age, then it was in the interest of the Chosulk to make preparations to annihilate them before they themselves could be annihilated. This prospect was the foundation of the Chosulk Cooperative, an organisation originally developed as a mutual defence pact against any alien threat, but which would in time become an administrative body with power over all Chosulk.

Or at very least as much power as any Chosulk government was willing to give it.

THEIR WAYS

The Chosulk Cooperative presents an image of absolute unity to the outside world in its communications. This illusion can be shattered by something as simple as a single conversation, a minute-long recording of the Collaboration Warren’s debates, or the basic reality that even their ancestral home world is not held under a single banner. The Cooperative, in truth, is a tenuous alliance between the Five Powers of the Chosulk race. It also represents the interests of the so-called ‘Unsworn’, powers who have not officially submitted to any other but are in reality too weak to resist the relentless exploitation of the major nations. The Chosulk Cooperative is overseen, ostensibly, by a Multifacilitator, who is intended to be an unbiased observer and facilitator of cooperation. In reality the position is almost meaningless, the collective will of the Cooperative overwhelming any direct emissary of its interests. Ironically, it is only the fact that each power loathes its fellows keeps the Cooperative functional at all. But there is one semblance of unity to be found here. For all that each Chosulk despise those of other nations, even the lessermost birthslave or most spiteful malignant is superior to a beyonder. Aliens are an existential and unknowable threat, with unpredictable behaviour and likely malevolent intent.

Of the societies within the Five Powers, none represents the core drive for survival with such utilitarian efficiency as the Syntropy. Its very name reflects its purpose- ‘syntropy’ is the inverse of entropy. The old scholars who reformed this nation’s ideology into its current form argued that life itself is the embodiment of syntropy, a temporary aversion of entropic decay. They further argued that a nation should be similar. Ultimately, the Syntropy views entropy and death as intricately connected, and so opposes disorder. Its language is constructed, synthetic, but in their view optimised. Decoration and luxury are irrelevant to this ascetic organisation. Ruled by a collection of scientists and military officials determined by extremely difficult tests, the Syntropy seeks to one day overcome entropy entirely, and create an eternal bastion of life under an ideology that promotes survival of the important. Detrimental elements, of course, are ‘repurposed’ into birthmeat, starve-labourers (unfed slaves starved to death in their work) or raw nutrients.

The Testament is also a promoter of survival, but for a very different reason- it is the last remaining theocratic power of Chosu. With complex divinations, elaborate webs of promises, and a fanatical conviction to its unproven beliefs, the Testament maintains an endless cycle of sacrifices to appease what they see as the driving force of the universe. Priests rule this nation, their degree of true devotion to their cause variable in the extreme. There is no denying that, whatever their claims, there is a brutal satisfaction to be had from a superior priest to cast their rivals into the role of sacrificial corpsemeat. The highest of their religious order would justify such acts as a necessity for their survival. The Testament has convinced its followers that their sacrifice is the only barrier between the universe and calamity- and for this reason, they are prone to zealously. In truth, the main reason they are tolerated by other Chosulk is because of their extensive slavery rings. All Chosulk factions employ some form of involuntary servitude, but the Testament has by far the highest number of outright servants that is is willing to export to other nations- typically heretics or “hollow” souls.

In many Chosulk dialects, the term “parsimony” is roughy equivalent to “efficient harmony”. For this reason, it is no surprise that outwardly, the Parsimony is the most diplomatic of the Five Powers. Ruled by great speakers and orators, this society has integrated a system of byzantine and arcane regulations designed in such a way as to exert control while convincing its citizens that it is, in fact, a haven of freedom and liberty. Certainly, it allows for more expression of personal truths than the utilitarian tyranny of the Syntropy or the religious fanaticism of the Testament. But that is only in the surface. Here, the threat of violence is rare- but the threat of total isolation, of being deprived of birthmeat, of any legacy, is common. Listeners are everywhere, informing their masters of every transgression, and it is far more common to be blackmailed with threats of suffering than to be directly punished. Once a secret is known, it cannot be unknown- and in a supposedly free state, the uninitiated reveal so very many secrets to those who are interested in hearing them. The secrets of other nations, too, are best known by the Parsimony’s agents, and no representatives have mastered the art of the meaningless metaphor or the elaborate speech that says nothing than their orators.

The Parsimony pretends to be free to bring its citizens joy. The Euphorium, then, is its opposite- a society that genuinely places joy as the most essential aspect of life, but does so in the most twisted and tyrannical way imaginable. This society depends upon the concept of catharsis. Suppressed emotions are to be unleashed. Anger, hatred, lust, vitriol- these all need a place to go. And where better than a living being, capable of suffering? To endure such torment until death is the place of the catharsis slave, an entire caste of altered criminals and unfortunates designed to suffer at the hands of their betters. The Euphorium is ruled by a medical society exploring sadistic hedonism to keep control. No nation knows more about the Chosulk psyche- and no other can directly influence the brain with the reliable results of the Euphorium. Pleasure is more important than survival to this society.

The Menagerie is an oddity. It began as an attempt to preserve Chosulk cultures being wiped out by the exploitation of others. In the space age, however, it is a much different organisation- it still seeks cultural artefacts, but largely for study and amusement. It seems our alien technology, scavenges wrecks for valuable finds, and takes been the most worthless scrap to display proudly as a symbol of archaeological prestige. There is a xenophilic sentiment to this society, ruled by those explorers and historians who most convince others of their importance. Sanctuaries of exotic life-forms and museums of pilfered junk dot the many worlds of the Menagerie. Of all the Chosulk powers, it is the most likely to seek out alien life, to align with beyonder interests in the name of mutual benefit.​
 
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CHOSULK VIGNETTES - CATHARSIS​


Cooperative Highroost - Collaboration Warren

It is impossible not to savour their confused yet fearful expressions as Zushkalk drags a wing-clipped catharsis slave into the warren. The worthless piece of future birthmeat is carried in by a pair of mindhusks, slaves who have lost the ability to resist her commands. Their life expectancy is little more than a year beyond the needed procedure, but in that time they serve well. The Euphorium knows best the psyche of a Chosulk, after all. And it is time to make its ‘cooperators’ appreciate that truth. They stand behind their podiums as Zushkalk takes her own place. It takes only a glance- and she sees in all directions- to see their confusion turn now to shock, as they realise the meaning of her transgression. Today will be a day of many lessons for them, assuming all goes to plan.

It is the Testament’s witness that speaks first, ignoring even the ‘halt’ gesture of the Multifacilitator ostensibly overseeing events. “Presume you will justify the inclusion of another pathetic lowling in discussions of importance.” Every word is a click or chirp, some followed by a clack of elytra or a buzz of the wings. The idea that this convention is important makes Zushkalk grind her mandibles against her shell in a form of scraping laughter. The arrogance. And that presumption...just another way of asking a question. Of course, no sane Chosulk would ever make a direct query. That confirmed one was an ignorant moron, or pretending to be one. But the witness would have her answer. To think she complains about lowlings, with her ‘encore’ of tyrannised fanatics by her side...

“Presumption sound. A most pathetic lowling. It is a catharsis slave. You will observe its function today.”

The battered slave, upon hearing those words, retracts its mutilated barbs, forcing its limbs inward, squeezing its flesh into its armoured shell. It knows full well what is coming. It has been muted- no sound but a scream may come from its chipped beak- but it tries with every limb to stave off its coming torment.

That will not save it.

Zushkalk raises her barbs and strikes in full view of the Cooperative Convention. With blurry sight, she watches the Parsimony’s representative clamber into her shell on instinct at the sight. The worthless pile of cathartic flesh continues to writhe and struggle. If this assembly needs a show to persuade them, they will get one. Zushkalk unfurls her wings, snatching her prey from the ground. The slave struggles, resisting, biting and flailing its tendrils, grasping in vain with its puny tail-prongs. A hopeless effort. Zushkalk drops the wing-clipped slave to the ground, sword-like feet stabbing into its shell, exposing flesh- and into that flesh plunges rows of ovipositors. She turns towards the mindhusks around her. “Remove the detritus!” As they obey, mindless as machines, she allows herself a grinding cackle at her sadistic indulgence, mocking the appalled expressions of her compatriots. She had been right- such a normality was a terror to these reclusive cowards.

“Barbarous!” shouts the Parsimony’s orator. “Unforgivable! An affront to us all!”

“Slaves are for service,” states the Testament’s witness. “Not for murderous torment.”

“Do not pretend, Most Esteemed Ones.” Her compliments are mockery, her titles nothing more than a parody of their self-important attitudes. “Presume that your expressions are a facade. To believe otherwise would imply your hypocrisy.”

“Presume Euphorium inchosulk near-beyonder intends elaboration of opaque and futile threat,” chirps the Syntropy’s diplo-analyst. Their kind never speak properly, always using a choppy dialect in the name of supposed efficiency. Zushkalk takes note that this one, of all the observers, has not acted repulsed in the slightest. How typically Syntropic of her. If it does not threaten her survival, it is not worth fearing- yet she too pretends this display is somehow inchosulk. Very well. If they desire elaboration, Zushkalk will point out the painfully obvious.

“Do not delude yourselves, Most Esteemed Ones, into a false reality in which you have not committed equivalent acts. Presume Most Pious One,” she says, referring to the Testament’s witness, “will not deny the perpetual sacrifices made in the name of an imaginary entity. Presume Most Fortitudious One,” she says, now referring to the Syntropy’s diplo-analyst, “will not deny the annihilation of ‘wasteful elements’. Presume Most Parsimonious One will not deny the importance of coercive persuasion. Presume Most Curious One,” she goes on, now speaking to the Menagerie’s so-far silent exemplar, “will not deny the use of beyonder-favourable means to attain so-valued artefacts.”

“Presume you will retract slander at once, or face the consequences!” buzzes the witness, taking flight, tail pointing in an accusatory gesture. “Your senseless use of slaves as sufferers and birthmeat reveals your malice! Hedonist! Sadist!”

“Sadist!” chants the encore of the Testament’s witness. “Sadist! Sadist! Sadist!” If the rules were abided by, only the representatives would speak. Instead, these lowlings are permitted to shout with zealous fervour in support of their mindtyrant.

“Presume you will explain how your corpse-sacrifices are perpendicular to sadism.”

“They are a necessary measure for the survival of our world!” comes the rushed reply, but Zushkalk is prepared. She has only begun this feast, ripping their delusions apart, and her hunger grows more and more insatiable.

“The results of your so-luminous so-essential so-fundamental sacrifices are intangible. Your murder achieves nothing beyond your own gratification. Confess your sin, fanatic.” Zushkalk allows herself to curl sub-tendrils in a gesture of self-satisfaction. “Or hold your hypocritical complaints, and admit our ways are parallel.” That statement earns no reply, only a stunned silence. Before the witness can develop an answer, Zushkalk turns to new prey- the Multifacilitator. The silent watcher has done nothing to stop any of this- it knows its interference will be met only with hostility. She is a powerless figurehead and she knows it, but pointing that out is certain to sting. “Presume that the so-important so-necessary Most Facilitating One will explain its necessity.” She refers to it as nothing more than a slave, for that is how it acts, a servant to the whims of the Cooperative’s emissaries. This attack targets the foundation of the Cooperative. There are appalled expressions all around the room. She sees them with her countless eyes, smells them with her rhinophores, feels them with her halteres. But for all their anxiety and shock, how will they defend this bloated, pathetic corpse of an organisation? If it were a Chosulk, it would be birthmeat. Instead it lives and breathes, expelling empty air like a volcano turning extinct, kept alive by delusions as great as the Testament’s cycle of sacrificial malice. The silence inspires Zushkalk to press on, to make the ultimate affront- questioning the need for the Cooperative to even exist. “Presume that my fellow so-cooperative ‘cooperators’ can justify the very need for cooperation-“

“Necessary for anti-beyonder cohesion!” shouts the Syntropy’s agent. The diplo-analyst has roosted herself on the roof-rungs, clambering closer to Zushkalk. For the first time, she points her barb and takes a defensive position. That outrage...could the diplo-analyst really attempt an attack? Would security even dare to intervene? Her slaves are gone. She is alone. They are survivalists, and Zushkalk is a mere hedonist. Even the strongest of the catharsis slaves she has brutalised cannot compare to a trained Syntropy-allegied! “Syntropy!” continues the diplo-analyst, rattling her words across the chamber with such force that they echo. “Testament! Parsimony! Euphorium! Menagerie! Unsworn! United by Cooperative! United by desire for Chosulk supremacy over beyonder threat! United, strong. Isolated, vulnerable! Intolerable prospect! Presume Euphorium dramatist desires culturedeath! Only explanation!”

“That accusation is a blatant lie! We desire-“

“Euphoria! Presume euphoria is worth death and culturedeath to you! Presume temporary euphoria is worth future as beyonder force-allegied catharsis slave!” As the diplo-analysts halts her words, her wings flicker. At any moment she may attack. Zushkalk considers her options- will she fight? Or is it best to concede? If the Euphorium departed the Cooperative alone...it would end in slaughter. If opportunistic beyonders do not tear them apart, these so-merciful Chosulk empires will do it themselves to “unsquander fortuitous occurrences” or “avenge hedonist treachery”. They do not understand. They continue to delude themselves with self-malignant ideologies that bring nothing but harm to them. Religious sacrifices. An obsession with utilitarian tyranny. Barely-contained xenophilia for beyonder artefacts. An insistence upon group unison and the elimination of lowlings. These delusional beliefs leave their empires rotting corpses, withering away. Only the Euphorium has come to accept the fundamental truth that all that matters is joy. Ecstasy at the price of lowling lives is the optimal solution. Let the deserving monopolise suffering, and the rest of the community achieve bliss. So what if it is hedonism? Sadism? It is superior to the slow masochism of these pests!

But for now, Zushkalk chooses to avoid lashing out, to retain her life. This act may see her deposed as an emissary, but she does not care. They will not punish her. The Euphorium’s daily routine is considered an abomination here. But they are not alone in that. No other supports the gregarious Menagerie or the reclusive Syntropy, the intangible-favouring Testament or the verbose and weak Parsimony. Only the Testament and Syntropy had even bothered to sustain their counter-accusations! The others did not even deign to keep up a facade of unapathy. And much as she hates to admit it, the diplo-analyst has the beginnings of a valid point. All that keeps the Chosulk Cooperative alive is a fear that outsiders will interfere. If this universe were home to them alone, war would have broken out yet again. But beyonders? They are an enigma. An uncertainty. While Chosulk may despise one another, beyonders are entirely different. Incomprehensible. Their patterns of thought are incongruent to reason. No Chosulk here will dare become an outright kind-traitor. And that includes Zushkalk.

“Presumptions unsound. My demonstration is complete. I am untraitor to the Chosulk. My intent is benevolent, to reveal the truth and eliminate the delusions that we construct to escape reality. We each squirm at the methods of our cooperators. The Chosulk Cooperative remains unified only by dread of beyonder assault. Our collaboration is tenuous. Presume you think we can trust each other.”

“Presumption half-sound,” states the Menagerie’s exemplar, having recovered from her disgust- though the telltale chitter-echos of contempt remain in her tone. “It is apoptotic to trust unreliable cooperators. But it is necrotic to risk culturedeath by provoking fellowkind powers when beyonder attack remains a possibility. We may come to understand them,” she states, a hint of sorrow in her tone, “but we will not empathise or sympathise with them, as we may Chosulk. Their agony is irrelevant. Only their utility and hostility matters. Presume Euphorium dramatist understands.”

“Presumption sound,” mutters Zushkalk, not even able to make a mockingly formal response. Her slaves skitter back into the room, though it is a waste of energy- she is about to depart. Before she does, however, she needs to batter in her point, fulfil the purpose she has come here, to bring an end to this era of uncertain semi-incoherence. “But your argument is perpendicular to your approach. Imminently, the Chosulk Cooperative is weak. Fellow cooperators, choose now. In our current state, all Chosulk will collapse under sustained beyonder siege. Two potential choices. Proposition one: Cooperative disbanded. Intraspecific competition may lead to superior methods to defeating beyonders. Proposition two: rectify the pathetic weakness of this organisation. Presume you will choose before I return tomorrow; alternative is Euphorium departure from Cooperative.” With that, Zushkalk storms into the air, her mindhusks following behind her as the chirps and clicks of her cooperators became nothing more than distant background noise. Her efforts today have been risky, she will have her outcome- either they will make this body unobsolete, or her compatriots will no longer have to deal with its incessant futility.
 
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