Jarlonia was named after the region it was located in. Surrounded by mountains and sea, it was said that the only way to find the town was “by accident”. The town was rather small, and somewhat behind technologically. It relied heavily off the sea for all its resources. It was also said that the town was once connected by a path carved into the mountains, but that path had long since closed.


It was a melting pot of races. If you could name it, there was probably one somewhere. Even an urban legend spoke of Gabbits playing in the bay at night. In a bait and tackle shop by the docks there was a wall of photographs dedicated to them, most of them claiming to have seen one somewhere.

Every time Casey passed the bait shop each morning, she would roll her eyes and continue with on her way to the residential area. Her main transportation was a bicycle with a basket on the back. She climbed hill after hill, powerful legs pumping her on until she stopped at the first house. Reaching into her basket, she pulled a jug of milk out and walked over to the door.

Her fist rapped against the door and she waited.  It opened, and had she not been used to the sight, she might’ve screamed. It was indeed a woman that answered, but she was large, fat, and resembled an earth octopus, only with a humanoid face.

“Oh hey, Casey,” she said. “Thanks so much.” She took the milk. “Made you somethin’.”

“Oh, thanks but..” Casey coughed.  “I really shouldn’t, I have to go.”

“I don’t think so, hun, I won’t take no for an answer.” She grabbed Casey’s wrist with one of her arms and led her inside. Behind her, Casey grinned wickedly.

The eight-armed woman led her into the kitchen. “Just put the milk in the fridge dear, and I made some cookies.” She put a handful into a bag and placed it into Casey’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” said Casey. “But I really ought to be going. I have some more deliveries to make.”

She ducked out the door, put the bag in the basket, and pedaled away. Once safely away from the house, she dug into the bag and scarfed them down while riding. She went to the next house, dropped off the milk, and received a healthy slice of cake as payment. She had to admit, as she ate it, she felt a little guilty. But they needed milk and couldn’t get out of the house, so she seemed quite inclined to give it to them.

Once she’d delivered all the milk, Casey rode up to the nearest pub and parked, heading inside. Inside, she noticed that the place was alive with gossip.

“…saw some weirdoes traveling the mountains last night.”

“…looked a lot like Casey – I know!”

Casey blinked. “Who looked like me?” she asked, approaching the talking creatures.

“Oh,” said one. “Last night John over here spotted some folks traveling the mountains. I wonder if they’ll make it in town.”

Casey thought a moment. “Looked like me eh? Why would… “ She thought really hard. Travelers that looked like her? No one went into the mountains for no reason at all unless they knew the town was there. And why would they waste their effort here unless… ?

“Oh hell,” said Casey. She jumped back. “Listen, if anyone asks about me, LIE.” She fled out the door, jumped on her bike, and pedaled madly back to her house.



The townsfolk of Jarlonia were rather surprised to see five bedraggled creatures head into town. Several of them stopped to stare at them.

Varg, in the lead, looked the most tired of all, glaring irritably in their direction as he walked. He trudged on, two tired Mudokons, a slig, and a slog in tow. Most of the townsfolk had never seen the Industrials, and so were unthreatened.

They didn’t have to walk far to find an inn. It was right across the narrow path that probably functioned as a street. So they knocked on the door.

“You can just go in, you know,” said a rather wolfish creature sitting outside the door. “It’s a public building.”

“Thank you,” said Varg, carefully hiding the sneer in his voice. He opened the door.

The inn was small inside, with a few chairs, household plants, a TV blaring The Larry Flinger show and a simple countertop with shelves behind it. Beside the counter, a door led into a separate hallway. Doors lined it, spaced evenly. The room itself smelled funny, but not unpleasant.

Varg didn’t have to tell anyone to sit down. Automatically the tired creatures just sat. Even Suzy, who didn’t like sitting or laying down, was virtually collapsed on the carpet.

Varg rang the little bell on the desk and moments later a short, plump creature waddled into the room, hopped up on a stool at the desk, her head just barely clearing the counter. She rather resembled a meep, but only had one leg. She had a lovely face, and might’ve been appealing had she not had a look of horror upon her face.

“Oh my Gabbits, what’s happened to you!? I’ve never seen you before, did you cross over the mountains?”

Varg nodded. “Please, if you will. We’d like a room. We don’t have a lot of moola-“

“Don’t worry,” said she. “There aren’t many able to cross the mountains in one piece. Besides, we rarely get visitors so no one stays in my inn. So please, let me show me to your rooms.”

“Wait,” Varg replied, but the woman had hopped away and reappeared in the hallway. “We want to pay somehow.” He was tired, but he hated getting things for free.

The female smiled. “And you will. But I’ll think of something. You’re in need of rest.” She led the five of them down the hallway. “Now, the room on the left here is the bathroom, so feel free to use it. There’s three rooms, so please, enjoy yourselves and stay as long as you need.” She disappeared into another doorway and left them alone.

Varg said nothing. He stood there, eyeing the others, who were staring almost lifelessly at the floor.

“Well,” he said. “Drog. Take Suzy and clean up. After you’re done you can decide amongst yourselves.” Varg went into a room and shut the door.

Tom yawned into his paw as Drog and Suzy went into the bathroom without a complaint.

“So Vula,” he said, “Wanna share a room?”

“Sure,” she said. “But I get the bed by the window.” She walked inside and eyed the room. It was small, but had only one bed, to her dismay. There was a window, a small television set, a desk, and a chair. She didn’t waste any time in trying out everything.

After they were all cleaned, they found that, to their surprise, the nice innkeeper had left them some clothes. Well, all except for Drog, who swiped a jacket from one of the closets instead; and Suzy, who didn’t wear clothes. They admired them for a moment, but all of them were far too tired to explore any further. The five of them went into their respective rooms and slept.

When Vula awoke she thought she’d only fallen asleep for a few minutes. She was no longer tired, although her body was complaining furiously and she hurried to the bathroom to take care of something. When all was said and done she studied herself in the mirror. Her reflection was virtually the same, but much cleaner than she’d ever known it to be. She never really thought about her appearance. Was she pretty? Was she ugly? Did it matter?

Curious, she slipped into the clothing that had been laid out for her. It was strange; she’d never worn anything as feminine as this before, and as she put it on she was rather pleased. Sure, it was a little loose, but she felt positively girlish. It was a simple yellow dress, cut off at the knees, with a white belt and thin straps for sleeves. She twirled about in it, leaving the bathroom and heading down the hall and to the kitchen. Something smelled delicious.

As Vula peered around into the room she spotted the chubby lady from before. She was standing on a wheeled stool, moving this way and that way as she chopped up various vegetables into a bowl.

She hadn’t even turned around and Vula head her speak.

“My, my, I was waiting for someone to get up. You slept for nearly 24 hours!” She wheeled herself to the sink, washed her hands, and rolled towards the refrigerator. “Be a good girl and help me with supper, won’t you? I’m making vegetable soup and I think you’ll like it.”

Mudokons are naturally helpful (which is part of the reason they made good slaves) and Vula was no exception. She washed her hands and as she passed the refrigerator a jar of some kind of sauce was thrust into her hands.

“Put that on the counter dear and open the cabinet above the bowl. I have such a hard time reaching it.”

Vula opened the cabinet.

“Okay,” said Vula, “I see – “ she took a quick sniff – “Seasoning jars. Which ones you want.”

“Oregano, rosemary, and scrabano,” came the reply.

Vula reached in and grabbed the first two, but she had to hunt for the third.

“What’s scrabano?” she asked.

“It’s an seasoning made from scrab toes. It’s hard to acquire out here, but it doesn’t harm the scrab. It’s said they put the scrab to sleep and take the files shavings and get out of there. It grows back quickly. It’s got a lot of nutrients which is something I think you five need.”

Vula studied it. Well, she pondered. It was odd, but what wasn’t around here.

“So what are your names?”

“I’m Vula, the slig is Drog, the slog is Suzy, and the Mudokons are Varg and Tom, respectively,” said Vula. “You?”

“Call me Anita.” Anita rolled back to Vula and began adding the sauce and seasonings. “It’s very lovely to meet you. Now please, get my big pot from under the cabinet by the stove and fill it with water. That’s a good girl. Now add a cup of powder in the jar beside it and turn the stove on high please.”

Vula did as she was told.

“Good, now wake up the others and have them get dressed.”