Living and Surviving.

Daris was not forthcoming. I couldn't seem to figure out what I wanted to write for the next king of the Dagerstanteen. I'm simmering.

But I wrote something...

Here is a part of the novel I'm tapping on. Please read this keeping in mind that the work is raw. It has not been edited yet.
***
THROUGH THE THICK foliage, Nigel watched. Silently and cautiously, all four of his tentacles twitched at the ready. The rest of his body was tranquil as he balanced on the balls of his feet.
Waiting. Observing. Assessing.
No ship had landed on his planet since— No.
No ship had ever landed on his planet for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t even sure if a spacecraft had ever visited here while his creator and mum were alive.
The giant cylindrical vessel powered down and went silent. Lights dimmed. Black smoke cleared. The back hatch at the rear of the craft began to lower. A soft hiss sounded on the wind.
Nigel sniffed and stayed vigilant. He scanned for anything that might eat him. His eyes flickered over the trees for drop snakes and skin roaches.
There was the scent of metal and fire and something that wasn’t his home. The new smells had him on alert. The back door continued to lower with a low hum and then the flat part dropped right into a patch of what his mom called mega sludge.
Foul stuff that burned like the dickens.
Nigel eyed the partially sinking access door. What a horrid place to land a spaceship. Not that any other place on this forsaken planet was any better.
But still. Nasty spot of luck.
Dropping into a crouch, Nigel slipped close to a clipper tree careful to dodge the spikes on the trunk. He inched toward the wet slime of the swamp making sure not to touch the glowing gunk. When he lifted his eyes, his breath caught.
A Dagerstanteen.
A tall, muscular, shiny Dagerstanteen.
Crickey, he didn’t see that shade of blue often.
The stranger’s scent floated lightly when a breeze ruffled Nigel’s short hair tubes. He smelled berries. Not good. If Nigel could smell the new bloke so could the herd of delinters twenty meters away from here.
The blue skinned alien stood on the walkway that led down into the marsh. The outsider didn’t appear distraught over landing in the middle of a marsh on Umicore Prime. In fact, it was the opposite. The new arrival looked around and grinned like a bloody twit. His brown hair tubes were stick straight and fell around his second set of tentacles. Artistic black decorative beads hung off the strands and sparkled and clicked when he tossed his hair over his shoulder.
The young Dagerstanteen looked well-off, well-fed, and healthy.
As Nigel considered that this was probably not a criminal escaping his home, he glided noiselessly behind a poisonous coralline bush. This new alien had all his tentacles and not an injury, scar, or gash to mar his flawless sparkling skin.
In the gray of the surrounding land, this newcomer was a shade of blue that was breathtaking. His brown hair tubes looked touchable, and his overall large muscular body was stunning and captivating.
Nigel shook himself.
What in the bloody hell? He shouldn’t be captivated. He should be weary. Who was this dingo and why was he here?
Maybe the alien was sent here from his home planet by a hateful creator that wanted him gone. That’s what happened to Nigel’s father, Warrior Nightmen. His eyes narrowed as he watched. It didn’t matter who this bloke was or why the outsider was on his planet. None of this situation was Nigel’s problem. He should go home.
The Dagerstanteen should go home as well.
“I can feel you watching me,” the stranger announced.
Bugs scurried under boulders. Small rodents ducked into holes. A set of big birds fluttered with the disruption and flew off making a nearby tree branch bounce.
Nigel glanced around. Loud noises would bring a gaggle of weebills or worse, a pack of branchias. One thing he’d learned fresh out of the womb was that silence was best on Umicore Prime.
“I am here for you to teach me, Grand Warrior Nightmensotom. I’m a royal from the Dagerstanteen palace. My name is Peltratria, and I have come to beg for your help. Please let me learn and study your fighting skills. I’ll offer you anything in my sphere for your assistance in this matter.”
Could this silly sod get any louder? He might be pretty, but the alien had a few kangaroos loose in the paddock. Clearly the bloke had gotten zero information on the planet he was visiting.
Oh yeah. Good-on-ya, mate. Go to an unknown planet and chatter. This action seemed spot-on for a dizzy royal dink.
A minute ticked by as Nigel smoothed a tentacle over his shorts and then over the belt that held his eight knives. He shifted slightly as he considered his next move. His muscles bunched. His gut instinct told him the attack was coming.
Then he heard it.
The delinters were galloping this way. He’d guessed that they would. Peltratria smelled like sweet blackberries and sounded like a dying fogou fish.
The ground began to vibrate as mighty hooves trampled everything in their path. His eyes flipped behind him. Trees crashed in the distance. His mom used to call them cranky horned hippos and his creator thought that was cute.
Nothing about delinters were cute.
The tops of the trees shook as the herd headed straight for the ship. The yelling Dagerstanteen would have called to them as much as the smell. Delinters were nailing the huge trunks with their horns as they stampeded. Now the new alien looked around like maybe he should do something.
Nigel’s brow furrowed. On Umicore Prime if you were edible and had legs, the consensus was run.
Royal Peltratria took a step backward but not toward the interior of the ship. Oi, where are you going, you cane-toad?
Instead of hiding in the ship, the bloke inched until he was on the edge of the ramp. One more step backward and the royal would fall into the super sludge.
Dizzy git.
Slipping out of the trees, Nigel jumped the narrowest part of the bog. He landed on a solid rock and then tackled the terrified alien on the walkway. The move stopped the chap from falling into the slush.
His opponent went down so easily he could be called a mole. Oi, the chap should be ashamed.
Nigel pinned Peltratria. The Dagerstanteen didn’t push or fight or move even though the royal had all his tentacles and Nigel was missing his bottom two.
“Oi, you need to go home, mate,” Nigel whispered.