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The Herald Rises

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This is the highly talented :iconwillgeorges:'s community character, Tarraya, done by me. Free and open to use to apply your own ideas to. Will is the colorist for the illustrations of the project...

Authored and drawn by :iconpsylisiadragoon:

Tarraya is a beautiful space explorer who becomes transformed into a dark wicked pawn by an alien symbiote.

Please read her design document first, which can be read here [link] I suggest reading this first to learn more about the character, the work and its purpose first.

I wrote a small prologue of sorts describing first contact. The art and story are only my interpretation of the events, others may approach the story differently.

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The Lieutenant came to consciousness. An act that was not met with an immediate urge to rise, the fugue state between trauma and awareness. She almost felt the need to stay ignorant of her current condition, a defense mechanism against panic kicking in. Things were starting to fall into place, something happened, something... bad. Her vision began to clear, orange spottiness giving way to solid forms. The ground she lay on was hard and course, the air somewhat humid. It was at that point feeling slowly returned to her body. The pain was not severe, though her head was swimming, with her ears about to pop.

"High Altitude, maybe.", her first real cognitive thought.

A random thought, but brief, as she began to shuffle and try to come to, with dull aches in tow.

She made out the cracked helmet of her spacesuit just a few feet away from her. She must have been on a mission, the only explanation.

There were piecemeal flashes of the mission beforehand, an uncharted planet in the Aerodis sector. In a hostile quadrant full of unexplained phenomena where ships never returned.

She took a few deep breaths and sprung up, forcing herself on her feet and stumbling like a newborn calf. She fought trying to lock her knees standing erect, knowing it would send her tumbling back over. With what little light there was, she needed to make her way toward something solid, for support. There was no overhead light though there was very much a light source. She didn't know where she was, but recognized that she appeared to be in a cave of sorts.

With her available strength she mustered, the slightly battered and confused woman moved forward, hand outward to find the first wall, rock, or anything that would hold her.

Finally, solid contact.

Plopping back against cave's inline, she her placed hands over her face and raked her gloved fingers up and down the bangs of her blond hair. This was her first achievement in this predicament, there was a lot to go, with so much to sort out. Right now, this was all she needed, and the wall was the best thing that could have happened to her at this moment. She took another deep breath and licked her slightly chapped lips and a horror began to settle in. Would she escape this fate?

She clenched her fists, her strength was returning, the disorientation replaced by thoughts of anger mixed with grief. The ship had crashed, this she was sure of. There was a little shame knowing something has gone wrong, even in the face of hopelessness. A selfish thought, but it couldn't be dwelled on. There was no time to be grateful for being alive, she was fine physically as far as she could tell, but she needed to take action. From what she knew, there may not be much of a life worth living if she didn't get to the bottom of her situation first. She took the time to recite facts about herself just to make sure she was in sound mind and lucid before she made another move.

"Tarraya Snowflower" "Lieutenant First Class" "Age 26"

It was time. Tarraya needed to go on with the next plan or be doomed. She was a woman of courage, and this was reflected in her years at the academy, before being part of the more illustrious crews of the fleet. She worked through the discomfort and the dizziness, and walked her way back to her damaged helmet. The com inside was busted, this didn't surprise her even though it was no doubt frustrating. She had wandered here in shelter against something, but if she had the proper channels of communication, she probably would have just stayed put.

"Damnit!", a futile muttering, but at an appropriate time as any.

Since the astronaut was breathing well, and the atmospheric conditions seemed to be in tact, she wondered if she may in fact crashed on her planet, or even one of the more inhabitable colonies the ship was programmed to head to should a disaster strike their vessel.

The actions between her leaving her ship, and approaching this cave are a blur. She ventured back to the source of the light. She began to fear for the rest of her crew. Maybe one of them helped her here, but they weren't anywhere to be seen in the cave. She tried to give herself small moments of hope that she may not be alone, and her fellow crew members were trying to get help while she was unconscious.

The cave entrance was a few meters away, if she could make her way there, she could survey her surroundings and back track to the remains of the ship with caution when her endurance would allow her too. With the technical experience she had, she could possibly salvage a beacon for rescue from the ship's interior. She had rations and a small bit of water for her journey. It would require some resilience, but it could be done.

The fetching astronaut stood up with a renewed sense of purpose, and found herself progressing towards the light. She went a few steps before noticing something drip on her face. It was black, and tarry. This cave was producing a sort of oil. She wiped it and noticed a string of glossy black goo from her cheek to the finger of her glove. The substance was sticky in nature. It was the last thing she wanted to encounter. Being filthy on top of trying to ensure her survival.

Treading a little further, long strands of the ropey liquid had dropped down in front of her. Like a strange syrupy cage. She knew she was going to have to brave walking through it if she had to get to the entrance. Her steps had grown heavier, and labored. Perhaps she hadn't accounted for the gravity of this planet. She looked down, and noticed the tar forming around her boots. This was an unsettling development, but no need for dread yet. If push came to shove, she could just remove the boots and venture on.

The liquid was too thick and hard to slosh through, so she begun to unfasten her boots to free her feet and step to a dry spot the liquid didn't occupy. As she found a good clear area to plant her foot into, a glob of the clingy black wad smacked her in the face. Hysteria ensued as she clawed at the mass. She could feel it pulsate, and the astronaut began to realize the substance she was dealing with was sentient. She tried to scream, but there was nothing but a gargle. The warm and surprisingly agile fluid had wormed it's way into her suit and had hardened a bit to a more vice-like squeeze. Every pore and orifice was being invaded, she was drowning. The struggle made substance more relentless in its assault. Tarraya knew this was the end, all her goals in life and everything she loved and strived for would end here. The cords of the black mass had pulled her out of the suit, and lifted her bare body toward the celing, where the majority of it had loomed.

As Tarraya's body began to ease it dawned on her that she wasn't dying, despite her organs feeling as if they were being shifted, explored. A quick burst of pain not unlike a heart attack raged in her chest, coursing through her arms and legs, followed by a calmness, relaxing her. Her fear had died down, with emotions of rage and desire being amplified. She had been lured here, but for what purpose?

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[Tarraya as a character is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License. This gives you permission to use Tarraya and her background for any purposes, commercial work included. You may build upon it and make changes to it. You may distribute the end product in any way you want, provided you give credit to the original creator: Will Georges.
For ease of use, have this block of text accompanying the release your work, or integrate it into the work as you see fit.]
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FoolForGold's avatar
Oh, hey. Venom's cousin-that-never gets-invited-to-family-reunions.