The Tale of Cao Nyut

I come from the Island Citadel of Sot, where gods and their half-Cannesian servants tinker with the fabric of life itself.

There, in the citadel, I was made, as were many other creatures just like me. It is well-known that all species of pachyderm love the Island Citadel of Sot, from its soft sandy sunset beaches, to the white-stone turrets that gleam in the moonlight after dark, to the cobbled streets, where minor gods tinker with life in their biopack workshops, where they trade and sell and gossip.

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Back in those good old days, before I left all my creature comforts of home behind me, I remember I always used to start the day over coffee and smalltalk with Derek.

Derek was a tinkering hobbyist. ¼ god, Derek was just a minor deity (any god whose blood is less than half divine is going to end up dying someday, even though they live much longer lives than normal Cannesians do).

Anyway, one morning, Derek and I were sitting on top of the turrets, watching the sun rise over the horizon. There was a pause in the chit-chat. The hot steam from our drinks rose up, then disappeared in the air. Derek is the kind of guy who wants to gush about his projects, but if you needle him, he won’t open up. So we sat there for a while in silence. Finally, Derek told me about his new project.

“I’m keeping it in a jar in the basement,” he said. “Would you like to see?”