Here is Tales of the Eternals Chapter 4 rewritten. I rewrote this chapter from the ground up and made it overall grander. I'm not 100% satisfied with it but I am glad that I've at least improved on most aspects of the old chapter.

The old chapter can be read here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/14345469/

For those who don't use the new layout, I've posted the text here just in case.

PREVIOUS

---

Tales of the Eternals Chapter 4: Paradise Fading

The walk back to the ship felt shorter than the trek uphill. Along the way Shern’aath explained to Altallo about his family, or rather what was left of it. He was evasive about talking about his mother, other that she had passed away several years ago. Altallo didn’t press for any more details. Shern’aath went on about how after the death of his mother, his father had become more withdrawn and barely spoke to anyone. He spent more time indoors making his models and the rest of the tribe had began to whisper that he had gone mad. Then one day, Shern’ocsa had left the camp without a word, he didn’t even tell Shern’aath where had gone. Most of the tribe had assumed he had disappeared without a trace, until Arkh’tor had found his new home in the hills. Ever since then, the only visitors he had was Arkh’tor or very occasionally Shern’aath himself.
“Why didn’t you visit him more often?” Altallo asked as they waded through a shallow stream.
Shern’aath grimaced. “My reputation is already in the mud from my pathetic hunting attempts. Visiting a madman would make things worse.”

He could tell from Altallo’s face that he didn’t understand any of this. Indeed, the concept of ostracising another of your own kind was completely alien to Altallo. He couldn’t imagine himself or his brothers or sisters abandoning each other. From the very start all they had was each other. He couldn’t fully remember every detail but he remembered their names.

They lapsed once again into silence and soon approached the familiar outcrop with its resident fliers. It was very strange to be back inside the ship for Shern’aath. Compared to the chatter of wildlife, the ship’s flight deck was almost silent, save for a gentle hum of machinery. Altallo had placed the star chart into a slot in the central column before carrying the models into the artefact annex. Left alone, Shern’aath decided to sit down on one of the benches scattered around the plant chamber. He selected one underneath the fronds of a cycad. Like in the flight deck, it was very quiet. Aside from a slight breeze rustling the leaves, there was hardly any noise.

Inside the dimly lit artefact room, Altallo had been arranging the models in a neat row within a new glass cabinet. As he placed each one, he could not help but run his hand over each one, feeling its texture. Sensing every bump and groove in the wood was a joy to the alien. He thought back to the sculptures standing in the plant chamber, typical of Eternal artwork. It was then he realised the stark differences between them; one was rough, organic and warm, the other sleek, cool and artificial. Resolving to investigate further, he finished his task and exited. He found Shern’aath in the plant room, fast asleep against the trunk of a magnolia. Altallo busied himself with some nearby gauges set into the wall, displaying temperature and moisture levels of each growing plot. He tried to focus on the figures, but his gaze kept drifting back towards the sleeping Shern’aath.

A swirl of emotions was cascading in Altallo’s mind. He kept thinking back to every time he and Shern’aath touched, brief as they may be and remembering how his scales and feathers felt. The thought of it sent tingles down his back. He couldn’t explain this sensation and concluded it needed further study. For now though, he focused on the other thing occupying his thoughts was Shern’aath mentioning his mother. For Altallo, death was nothing new and he remembered his first experience seeing it, millions of years before meeting Shern’aath. He had been walking along an ancient beach in a period called the Cambrian. It was a very different world back then for although the seas were teeming with life as usual, the land was dry, rocky and lifeless. Altallo had found something washed ashore, a creature called a trilobite. These small arthropods were widespread back then, scuttling all over ocean floor feeding on detritus, though they occasionally they did venture on land. This one however was still. Altallo had scooped it up and held it, feeling its cold chitinous body. He remembered a sense of sadness, despite never encountering the creature while it was alive. He had placed it tenderly back onto the soft sand and walked away, disappearing into the heat haze. Since then he had accepted death as a part of life, but now he was confronted with another sentient species. The pain that he had heard in Shern’aath’s voice lead Altallo down one mental path after another. He wondered what his mother was like. Was she an artist like her partner and son? Or perhaps a hunter like the rest of the tribe seemed to value more.

Altallo’s train of thought was disrupted by Shern’aath waking up. The Dagger-Claw yawned and stretched. He then noticed that Altallo was nearby, looking at diagrams but clearly not reading them. Rising to his feet, Shern’aath walked over and hovered behind Altallo.
“I’m no expert, but shouldn’t you be doing something with that?” he said. This caused Altallo to jump.
Once he had calmed down and sorted himself out, Altallo sighed. “Sorry, I was just thinking. We will need to examine other locations to see if there’s been any changes in the local plant and animal populations.”
This wasn’t completely true and Shern’aath could tell, but didn’t say anything.
“How far will we need to walk far?” Shern’aath asked wearily. “I don’t think-”
“Oh we won’t need to walk, we can fly there inside this.” Altallo indicated their surroundings with a flourish. Shern’aath was doubtful but followed Altallo back to the entrance area. The alien had started swiping his fingers around the basin. The liquid within began dancing and flashing at the slightest touch. Shern’aath yelped and held up his spear as the walls seemed to melt away, leaving them exposed to the flying beasts outside. But none of the creatures seemed to even acknowledge their presence. Shern’aath shuffled to where the floor of the flight deck ended and held out his spear. He heard and felt something solid hit its tip. He then reached out his hand and felt the cool, smooth crystal wall. Altallo meanwhile had plunged both hands into the liquid and started to move them more slowly this time. Shern’aath noticed that a cloud of dust had gathered around them and the whole structure started to shake. Slowly and soundlessly, they started to rise.

Outside, a Dagger-Claws was skulking through the nearby forest. One of these was Zhe-raac. He was tall and powerfully built, with vibrant grey-blue feathers contrasting with his brown scales. He was on another hunt to prove once more his might, cunning and tenacity. He was very popular among the Dagger-Claws and never failed a hunt once in his life. He was certain this time would be no different. In fact this time would be very different. It started with the flyers. Something had disturbed the creatures and they were wheeling and screeching. Above all this noise was something far louder, a low humming noise which was building in intensity. Zhe-raac raised his spear and growled a challenge to where the sound was coming from. Nothing answered, but he got no response.

Then, he saw it. Rising from the rocks with flyers scattering all around it, a strange shape had risen. It looked as if it was made of polished blue stone and was shaped like crescent moon. It hummed quietly, with a strange shimmer around its base, it turned and started floating in the direction of Zhe-raac, its hum rising in pitch to a cacophonous bellow. The hunter raised his spear and readied to throw it.

Inside the flight deck of the ship, Shern’aath swayed with the movements but he wasn’t afraid. He found himself enjoying vibrations running through his body and seeing the ground rushing away. They were gliding close to the forest’s edge when Shern’aath spotted a figure standing on the edge, a spear in its hand. He recognised it at once.
“That’s Zhe-raac. I think he’s seen us.”
Altallo frowned at this news. “That’s odd, my ship should be invisible. It must be a fault in the mechanisms. Oh what a horrendous time to go wrong!”
Zhe-raac’s spear flew threw the air and struck the ship’s outer hull with a clatter. Harmlessly, it fell back to the ground. Despite there being no visible damage, Altallo still looked worried. Below they could see the would be hunter running away haphazardly in the direction of the dagger-claw village.
“This is troubling, we’re not supposed to reveal ourselves to anyone unless if they’re ready to understand. He’ll probably go tell all the others and this could cause a catastrophe.”
Shern’aath shrugged. “They’ll think he’s insane hopefully.”
His nonchalant attitude melted away at a glare from Altallo.
“What?! Don’t look at me like that! Zhe-raac is a bully and a jerk, I say good riddance.”
Altallo didn’t say anything else, but his silence made Shern’aath feel uneasy.

The ship rose up higher into the air, giving its occupants a bird’s eye view. Far below lay the river, the island of the dagger-claws and forests ringed by hills. Beyond these hills lay vast plains to the east and to the west a tall mountain topped by snow. Altallo flew the ship towards this mountain and landed on a vast dark plain on its slopes. Close by was a stand of scraggly trees. Altallo lead the way out, with Shern’aath trailing behind. The dagger-claw looked back to see Altallo’s ship in all its glory. He ran a hand over its smooth and cool surface and admired its unusual crescent shape. On closer inspection, while it seemed to be solid blue in colour, he could see veins of gold and other shades of yellow shimmering in the sunlight. It struck Shern’aath that a lot of things about Altallo involved those two colours. He brought up the subject to Altallo who looked up from examining some dust covered foliage.
“We all picked unique colours for our ships and, if we needed it, our clothing before we departed on our voyages, as a sort of calling card,” Altallo explained. “My ship’s monitors indicated more structures close by here. I wanted to investigate.”

He lead the way through the shattered forest. While a few plants were showing signs of recovery, most of it lay in ruins. Trees had been blasted and parts of the soil had been turned to ash. They soon come across another, much larger clearing. Altallo’s eyes widen at the sight before them. Instead of scattered ferns and other plants, there were structures made of stone and wood. All were neatly arranged in a circle.. Excitedly, Altallo began an extensive study of the structures and surrounding area. The buildings were domestic dwellings. While rather crude, but were larger and far more solidly built than the tents of the dagger-claws. It was only then that he noticed Shern’aath standing far away and glancing all around him.
“I don’t like it here,” Shern’aath said bluntly to Altallo’s inquiring gaze. “Its where they live.”
“Who?”
“The plant-eaters,” Shern’aath’s voice was full of bitterness. “We don’t like them at all and always avoid them.”
“But why?” Altallo asked simply. Shern’aath stared at him in bewilderment.
“Well because they’re unnatural!” he blurted out finally. “They look and smell like prey. And they’re always horrible to us, calling us flesh-eaters and monsters. They think we’ll start eating them.”
Altallo stared at Shern’aath and then turned his focus back to his study.
“This all starting to make sense. Their building style is different from yours, more permanent. And they’re growing their own food. Whoever these plant-eaters are, they clearly have planned everything ahead.”
Shern’aath snorted. “If that’s the case, then where are they?”
Altallo got up from examining some pottery and looked around. Everything had a coating of dust on it. All around the silent village were the remains of plants arranged in neat rows. This interested Altallo greatly, for he recognised many of them as fruit bearing species and tuberous plants.
“Fascinating,” Altallo murmured, his mind racing and trying to find the correct word to describe this. “Agriculture, yes that’s it.” Altallo ran a finger across a stem and focused on the dust coating his finger. “Volcanic ash.”
His eyes drift up to the smouldering volcano dominating the skyline.
“Something terrible happened here,” Altallo said. “I wonder what happened to the people here.”
“Hopefully they’ve been wiped out,” Shern’aath spat as he cast a dour look around the village.
Altallo ignored this and instead walked a final circuit around the houses. He stopped and sighed deeply. “I could learn a lot from them.”

Soon a noise came drifting to them from a nearby clump of ashen ferns. Shern’aath was nervous but Altallo seemed to throw caution to the wind and rushed over. Behind the ferns was a creature lying on its side. It had a bulky body, four sturdy legs and an enormous head. This head had a huge frill and three horns, similar to its relative the Triceratops. However unlike Triceratops, its nose horn was large and its brow horns were much smaller. The most striking feature was the arrangement of plate like horns on its frill, making it look as if it was wearing a crown. This was a Regaliceratops, a rather rare sight for Shern’aath and the other dagger-claws. A deep gash ran down one of its back legs and it was panting deeply. Shern’aath’s mind raced at its sight. Here was a rare opportunity to save his reputation. An easy and prestigious kill would make him the talk of the tribe, far more than anything Zhe-raac had brought back. To his surprise, Altallo had started to slowly approach the injured animal. The horn-face looked up and snorted aggressively at the two of them. Shern’aath gripped his spear tightly, ready to defend Altallo, but the alien didn’t seemed to have noticed and reached out a hand. The horn-head sniffed and seemed to become calmer at Altallo’s touch. With the beast pacified, the alien began running his hands down its wounded leg and examined its other flank.
“Burn marks here and the scar appears to have been caused by flying rock or wood. Must have escaped the lava flow, but at great cost. Good thing we arrived just in time.”
Altallo ran back at alarming speed back to his ship. Shern’aath stared after him and slowly became aware of the Regaliceratops’ eyes on him. He didn’t dare move, as he knew from experience that these horned heads were a force to be reckoned with, even when injured. To his relief, Altallo soon returned with an unusual white box in his hands. From this, he took out several vials of mysterious liquids, which he started applying to the animal’s wounds. He then removed a large brace made of padded material unfamiliar to Shern’aath. Altallo secured this to the creature’s leg and slowly, with a lot of wobbling, it began to stand up with Altallo’s help. The little alien then gently guided it in the direction of his ship with Shern’aath trailing behind. None of them noticed a pair of eyes watching them from beneath a large fern.

Inside the ship, Altallo lead both of them into another chamber beside the flight deck. Shern’aath shivered. Not only was it much colder in here, it was bathed in a deep indigo light. Through the gloom he could see unusual domes full of pallid blue fog which swirled mysteriously. Most seemed to be empty but some had animals lying inside. Some were utterly tiny, others gigantic. The whole room seemed to stretch for miles and Shern’aath couldn’t see any of the far walls. All the while, a deep pulsating sound filled the air. It sounded as if the whole room was breathing. Altallo led the animal to one of the empty domes which opened with a click and a hiss. Once the creature was lying down, Altallo removed the brace and then began pushing buttons on a nearby wall. The pod closed with another hiss and a click, then pearly vapours began to filter in. The Regaliceratops lay down its head and fell asleep.
“What will happen to it now?” Shern’aath asked.
“These pods slowly heal anything inside of them. They’ll reawaken when I return to my home,” Altallo noticed Shern’aath’s expression of disappointment. “Why did I do it? I couldn’t leave it alone to die like that.”
Shern’aath said nothing, instead he stared at the sleeping Regaliceratops. He had never seen a living one up close and the patterns across its body was starting to spark ideas in his mind.

From his hiding place, Caza had watched the dagger-claw and the stranger leading a horn-head away. The elderly Pachycephalosaurus followed them as quickly as he could, wheezing and leaning on his walking stick all the while. He had reached the edge of the ash fields and leaning against a tree to catch his breath when he was startled by an almighty roar. He raised his staff ready strike any predator. What met his eyes was nothing like he had seen in his entire life. A huge shape burst from behind one of the ash dunes and sped away into the sky. Caza shook himself from his stupor and made his way through the ashlands to an untouched area and very dense thicket of forest. Through a dark tunnel formed by the wide canopies of trees, he reached a gateway made thick logs. He hammered with his walking stick and the door creaked open. An eye peered out. It widened at the sight of Caza and then the door swung fully open, revealing a towering figure behind it. The first thing that struck anyone who saw Itero, aside from his size, were the three cruel looking horns on his head. His body was deep mahogany brown, save for his frill, which was splashed with various bright colours. The Triceratops gave Caza a curt nod and stood aside. Itero wasn’t much of a speaker, Caza thought to himself, as he hobbled inside and into a bustling main street.

Although the Plant-Eaters had many satellite villages, this heavily fortified town was their main hub. It provided them with shelter to hide from the many predators that roamed these lands. Normally only a few tribe members would be present here, mostly the elders and craftsmen, as the rest would be planting and harvesting. However after the great calamity that spewed fire across the land, most of the tribe had fled to the fortress and now food was running dangerously low. It was inevitable that they would soon have to leave, Caza thought sadly as his mind reflected on the generations who had grown up and thrived. The soil here was once rich and fertile, now turned to ashes.

He found his home, which like the houses Altallo had found in the village, was solidly built and cosy inside with a fire and furniture made of wood and dehydrated vines. Strings of dried herbs were neatly hung from wooden poles above a stove. The old man sat heavily on a chair and began munching thoughtfully on a tough branch. There was a knock on the door and Ojira entered. A young Parasaur, she had a long crest arching at the back of her head and had deep jade green scales.
“I saw you coming back, what’s happening out there?” she asked.
Caza didn’t answer her immediately and instead kept chewing while collecting his thoughts. Eventually he raised slowly to his feet.
“There’s no question about it, we’ll have to move the tribe.”
He saw her disheartened look and patted her on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I think I have found a way out of this. Lets get everyone and everything prepared.”

Altallo’s ship had flown away from the volcano and towards where the treeline ended. From here stretched out what the Dagger-claws called The Great Plains. A seemingly endless stretch of low lying ferns broken up by the occasional grouping of trees. Shern’aath felt uneasy as they landed. Like most dagger-claws he feared the plains. While there was no cover for anything to ambush them, the sheer openness left him feeling exposed and tiny. In stark contrast, Altallo was as usual calm and curious. He started picking his way through growths of ferns. On occasion, he’d gently ease a particular plant out of the soil or an insect and carry it back to the ship, which was once again disguised as a boulder. Shern’aath hated the moments he was alone. There was hardly any noise out here, as if the whole plain was holding its breath.

He felt the movement before he actually saw it. A vibration from the ground ran up from his feet and through his spine. He turned slowly and gasped. A head on the end of a long neck had appeared, looming above the ship. The head was long and had a series of armoured scutes running from the base of the skull down its back. It was joined by another and then even more. It was then that they came closer and he could see their entire bodies. They were enormous, with four massive tree trunk like legs, bulky bodies covered in scutes and spikes and a long tail ending in a whiplash. Altallo had emerged from his ship to find themselves right in the middle of the herd of Alamosaurus. Shern’aath’s mouth was wide open. Some of the older dagger-claws had spoken of giants so tall they could reach the skies. Even the young ones towered above them. The herd didn’t seem to even acknowledge their existence and they walked purposefully past them. Altallo and Shern’aath watched them stride across the plains until all that could be seen were dust clouds kicked up by their feet. It was a moment that would stay with Shern’aath forever more. Both he and Altallo looked at each other before they went back into the ship without another word.

Once back inside, Altallo started checking instruments and compared them to the plants and insects he had collected, which were stored in a trolley of planters and crystal jars respectively.
“From what I’ve found in these specimens and in the soil around us, this area was also affected from the volcanic ash but its nowhere near as bad as the previous site.”
“What does that all mean?” Shern’aath asked.
“Either it was downwind from the pyroclastic flow or its recovered more quickly. I’ll need further samples from other sites. They are rather far away though, are you sure you want to come with me?”
“If its a choice between a trip to far off lands or wasting my time being bossed about back home, of course I’ll pick you. Besides, you’d get into so much trouble without me.”

The ship lifted off from the plains and sped away high into the sky. First they flew across a vast ocean to a large island covered in dense swampy forest. This would in the future be named Hateg Island and would become part of Eastern Europe. Disembarking, they spotted animals roaming amongst the trees. They were much smaller than any Shern’aath had seen before, but most were familiar shapes. There were short stocky armoured ones and plant eaters on two legs and four. There were even smaller versions of the titans they had just seen on the plains. Their heads would have barely reached the knees of their giant relatives. While Altallo studied the plants and wildlife, Shern’aath found a piece of bark and held it thoughtfully in his hands. He then started using his claws to carve minute drawings of creatures around the rim. A chorus of flaps and screams announced the arrival of a flock of massive fliers swooped low, searching for prey. The small creatures scattered into the denser undergrowth. Altallo and Shern’aath also quickly left, neither wanting to be on the menu.
They flew to a vast delta in the midst of harsh desert in what would become Mongolia. There were many familiar types, from wide beaked plant eaters to swift footed runners. Amongst these were oddities, such as a massive beaked beast covered in downy feathers wading through the marshes.

They made several other stops throughout the world and Shern’aath kept adding animals to his carving. Most were vibrant and still full of life. There was even an eventful dive into the ocean where they encountered brilliant reefs full of fish and were even chased by a massive monster. One stood out though, in what would become India. There were many volcanoes spewing out ash and dust. Despite this, some animals still roamed the ash strewn plains. They didn’t land here and Altallo only observed from a distance.

The tour ended back where they started, in the plains now bathed in sunset oranges. This time they landed close to a lake where herds of migrating plant-eaters stop for water and food. Altallo and Shern’aath sat on a hill and watched them.
“What about those fire mountains we saw?” Shern’aath eventually asked, breaking the silence.
“If nothing drastic happens, it will calm down by itself. The animals there on that subcontinent may be doomed though, but that is the cycle of life. Nothing lasts forever.”
No sooner had these words left Altallo’s lips, than a loud and quite frankly irritating noise started blaring from the ship.
Inside, a part of the central basin had started glowing bright red and was the source of the alarm. Shern’aath covered his ears while Altallo quickly attended to the ship. After pulling up charts and reports from the ship’s database, Altallo’s face began to fall grave. Soon he poked Shern’aath on the shoulder and signalled the alarm had stopped. Lowering his hands, Shern’aath breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness for that. Why did this thing started screaming all of a sudden?” then he saw Altallo’s face. “Something’s wrong isn’t it?”
Altallo nodded.
“The meteor has changed course. Its heading right here.”