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itmightbeneb · 3 years ago

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Say No to Netherite

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tw: pain/torture (aka same as prev)

Part of Quackity and Sam’s plan was a bank, a place to hold attachments, to blackmail, to keep people in line. It was just like Dream's vault, except it wasn't a performance, it wasn't an act that was only put on to get himself locked up. It was real. And yet, they still hated him for the same reason, for the vault, for "using" people's attachments against them. Dream almost laughed the first time he heard the plan, almost broke his lie just to laugh at the hypocrisy. He didn't though, he kept it in. He couldn't break character just yet. The next time he and Punz had been alone in the bunker, however, they had laughed about it. Punz’s arm around his shoulder, huddling together in the cold bunker, they had laughed at Dream’s captors. It had felt good to laugh with Punz again, they hadn’t been alone for a while, hadn’t been without eyes watching and a lie to protect for a long time.

The bank itself was too close to the main SMP for Dream to help out, too close to civilisation, to people who may be sympathetic to him. Especially as he would have had to be transported there outside of the safe area, where he would be in very obvious constant pain. So instead, they had set up an area away from possible sympathies for Dream to mine. They needed stone and redstone for the bank, so a pickaxe was prepared with silk touch, it also had a modification on it, a silver band that communicated with the shackle Dream had been forced to wear. Sam would later fortune all the ores, they were easier to keep in ore form, more compact. He would have to show the modified picaxe to Fundy later. For now, he had to worry about getting there. An ender pearl stasis chamber had been set up at Las Nevadas, another at the mine along with another safe area, but to get there at first he would have to travel with the shackle still on.

Shackled and bound to a minecart, Dream braced himself for the inevitable. They had considered taking the shackle off, but he had been too much of a security risk, too likely to run.

He was blindfolded as well, he wouldn't even be able to see where the mine was, or see when the pain was going to end.

He was so tired of pain.

The minecart started up, and Dream could feel as he got closer to the border, the shackle heat up slightly, vibrating with the promise of pain. Sam, in the cart just in front of him, gave him no warning as they crossed over. Dream gritted his teeth through the pain, it was too early to begin screaming, they had a long ride ahead of them and he needed to conserve his energy. Not only did he have a long ride with the sharp pain radiating from the shackle ahead of him, he would be put to work mining when they got there. The pain was exhausting, and Dream hoped most of the ride was downhill, and that the mine was far closer than he had any reason to suspect.

So through the world he went, gritting his teeth to the sharp pain emanating from the shackle. It felt like he was on fire, like the sun itself had come to earth to burn him up, a painful existence that lasted for an indefinite amount of time. Each rock and shake of the minecart knocked against his already sensitive skin, sending bolts of lightning over his body. He felt like throwing up, he felt like he was about to faint. He did neither. Instead he held onto the pain, used it, kept himself awake and moving, he could get through this, he was strong enough for this. He hadn’t broken yet, he wasn't going to break, not when he had come so far, not when he had finally found allies again, had found Fundy and Punz and Techno.

The pain stopped suddenly, but the minecart continued moving for a few seconds, giving Dream precious time to recover slightly and start up the act specifically for Sam. He uncurled himself from the foetal position he had found himself in, composed himself, and just before the blindfold was yanked off, he gave himself a confident grin.

“Don’t grin at me like that,” Sam said as he undid Dream’s bounds, “I heard you whimpering all the way here.”

Dream got out of the minecart by himself, Sam having already turned away towards the line of chests. On shaky legs, Dream got up and out, before looking around. He felt dizzy, but refused to show it. He would be strong for Sam, he would show Sam that no matter what was thrown at him, he would survive. Fear the man who survived so much, he could definitely survive you.

They were in a plains biome, and for the first time in a long while, Dream was in a place where the temperature was livable. Not too hot from being surrounded by lava constantly, and not too cold from the snow. There were trees in the distance, tall skinny birch trees swaying in the breeze, too far away for Dream to hear the russell of the leaves. Tall grass swayed besides him, his favourite shade of green. Fresh air. Not the sticky humidity of the prison, and without the cigarette smoke and stench of alcohol that permeated all of Las Nevadas. Fresh air, with a breeze that blew Dream’s hair into his face. He walked over to Sam, who was at the row of chests. They were next to the enderpearl stasis chamber, the promise of not having to go through that pain again, at least not for a while.

Sam handed him a pearl and Dream threw it into the bubble column. It would be activated whenever Sam needed him there, the one at Las Nevadas would be activated whenever he needed to go back. And he would be back at Las Nevadas soon, Quackity had a special night in the pit planned, celebration of the first lives being bet and traded, a celebration of a new way of existing. Capitalism finally in progress.

“Let’s get to work,” Sam said, and while Dream hadn’t recovered just yet from the ride there, he followed Sam to a small mine he had already started. A chunk of land, that’s what they’d eventually mine out, maybe not all today, but eventually. Dream got to work, block after block of stone and ore was moved from the land to the chests, carving a scar in the otherwise beautiful landscape. At first they worked in silence, neither Dream nor Sam enjoying the other's company. It was an uncomfortable silence, but one neither of them was particularly invested in breaking.

When Dream had been helping build the casino, it had felt good to work, to do something other than pacing in a small box, to have mis muscles ache from overuse rather than underuse, but as time went on, he came to resent it. The work was just another cage, somehow more restricting than the shackle, he was exhausted constantly from doing too much and not getting enough sleep, and his body ached with a new type of pain. Instead of the sudden sharp pain of an axe, Quackity’s new weapon of choice was the slow build up of exhaustion and overexerted muscles. If Quackity got his way, if the server was working for him, it wouldn’t just be Dream that got the short end of this particular stick, but anyone who needed extra lives, anyone who needed their prized possessions protected from the rest of the server, would be forced to work, would be going nights without sleep and days labouring under the sun or a cave roof in order to save themselves.

Maybe Techno had a point about governments, or at least this particular one. Though in his time on the server, Dream hadn’t encountered a government he hadn’t had issued with, except when George was in charge. But then that was George, his best friend, of course he would be fine with George ruling.

After a while, Dream got tired of the silence, and decided to probe for a few answers.

“So a bank, hm, a place to keep everyone’s attachments,” he said, and paused a second to shake some of the stone dust out of his hair, “and you say I’m the bad guy.”

Sam looked over at him, glaring, “A place to protect people’s attachments Dream, not steal them away from people.”

Dream just shrugged as he mined a vein of iron, “I didn’t steal anything for the vault.”

“What about Henry? Friend?” Sam asked, sounding tired of what he thought were lies.

“Oh so you name the things I can easily fake, Henry died, Sam, I can’t revive pets! Henry and Friend died, I didn’t steal anyone’s pets.” Dream countered, the fact that people still thought the fake Friend he had used for the vault was the real one smused him.

“What about the disks, Dream, there was a hole in the wall for Skeppy-”

“The hole in the wall for Skeppy?!” Dream interrupted Sam, who gripped his pickaxe harder in anger, “You think I would put Skeppy in a cage! One he could easily break out of next to a massive nether portal when I had a whole prison I could have used? It was a show, a performance, Sam. Nothing there was stolen, I wasn’t going to kill Tubbo, I- I was only trying to teach Tommy to stay out of trouble.” A lie, but a believable one; there was no way Sam would guess the real reason for the vault and the confrontation with Tommy, especially with how it ended up.

“Don’t interrupt me, Dream,” The warden threatened, turning fully towards Dream, pickaxe in hand. Dream took a step back. His back was against a wall, there was nowhere to run. But Sam didn’t hurt him, didn’t hit him, he just continued talking, holding himself back.

“And you didn’t mention the discs, you still stole them from Tommy, Dream, you stole them,” Sam said, and Dream’s brows furrowed.

“Well, to be fair, the disks were mine. Tommy gave them to me in return for L’Manburg’s independence! You’re a prison warden, you know the law,” but there was no law, Sam was the law. The one who controlled the prison and it’s guards was the one who decided what you could get away with, and now Quackity controlled Sam, Quackity’s word was law.

“I was given the disks,” Dream continued, dangerous with Sam being there and nowhere to run, but this was too important to let Sam miss, “By Tommy, he was trying to steal them back, I was trying to teach him to stop trying, it was…” Dream paused for effect, “All blown out of hand.”

“I mean, I guess,” Sam sounded hesitant, but Dream could tell he believed him. In Sam’s defence, Dream was mostly telling the truth, he thought to himself, but that's what the best lies were, a mixture of the truth and lie, Sam could fact check any part of Dream’s story except his motivations.

“See, I’m not as bad a guy as everyone says,” Dream tried, despite knowing it wouldn’t work. Sam had backed off, allowing him space to move.

“You think you’re a good guy?” Said Sam, amusement clear in his voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I was the best person, I’m certainly no worse than you.”

Sam took a step back in shock, before saying, “Get back to work, Dream, I don’t want to know what kind fucked up moral system you have to think you’re as good a person as me.”

“But-”

“I said get back to work!” Sam shouted, taking a threatening step towards Dream. The air heated up as Dream stood his ground for a fraction of a second, the tension of words left unsaid and the reality of Dream’s situation hung between them, the air shimmered with the promise of violence. Dream turned away and started mining again, he couldn’t afford to not follow orders, not at this point.

Dream made several trips back to unload his inventory. On the surface, he would take longer than he needed to, taking deep breaths of fresh air, enjoying the time away from Sam. Going back down was always an ordeal, getting closer to Sam, he could always feel the air chill, he had to force himself to spend time breathing the same air as the man. The constant trips up and down also cost hunger, especially as they got longer the deeper they dug. His stomach growled, but he didn’t dare ask Sam for any food, he knew how Sam would react. On the way back one time, he ran out of sprint and had to walk the rest of the way.

“Why are you walking? Hurry up,” Sam said, the first words since their argument earlier.

“Ran out of sprint,” Dream replied, not in the mood to give anymore of an explanation.

“Why didn’t you ask for food?” Asked Sam, sounding exhausted with Dream.

Dream just raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Those were your idea Dream,” He continued, throwing a stack of raw potatoes on the ground for Dream.

Dream looked at the potatoes, and left them there, “Would rather starve,” he said, going to the wall to begin mining again. He heard Sam moving behind him, before potatoes were forced into his hand.

“I want you working efficiently. Eat,” Sam said.

Dream stared at him, knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable but wanting to put it off as much as possible, a show of defiance from the prisoner who’s only other option was death. They both stood their ground, the sheer walls of the chunk they had cut out surrounding them, there was no wind so deep, the cool stagnant air held both their unspoken threats aloft, but as Dream took one painful bite of the first potato, staring straight into Sam’s eyes with fiery anger, the atmosphere dropped to the ground to rest along with the stone dust.

The crunch of the raw potato sounded through the otherwise silent area, and Dream felt as if he was going to throw up. He refused to, holding it down, before he forced another bite down.

“Why are you working with Quackity?” Dream asked as he turned back to his work, “You want me back in the prison, why am I here?”

Sam waited a little before answering, thinking of the best response, just how much of the truth he was willing to give away to Dream. A few more blocks mined later, he finally answered.

“You’re more useful like this,” He said, quietly as if not wanting to admit it.

“I can help you like this,” Dream parroted, “Interesting.”

#Say no to Netherite #NebWrites #dreblr

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victorlimadelta · 4 years ago

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Pidge is actually trying to take this a tiny bit seriously. Last night, while she was working on moving her work station into the makeshift pharmaceutical laboratory she’s set up for herself over the last few months, she was putting together a presentation, like it’s a business pitch or a grant funding exercise. Still, it’s easier to illustrate her point when she has diagrams to go off of. The fancy little holograms from her PADD can even be manipulated in real-time in three-dimensional space, for added cool factor.

It also means she can keep her thoughts together as she goes through the theoretical aspects of this with @swordsedge Ulaz. Before she begins, she takes a shot glass, fills it with the Olkari root extract she’s come to love so much, and knocks it back like it’s so much liquor. That should keep her going for the next eight or so hours and stave off the fluorescent-inspired headache she’s guaranteed to get if she works down here too long. She offers some to the Galra in front of her, but he declines. Reasonable. He doesn’t know what it is, and she could have tampered with it, so she’s not offended.

They’d had a brief conversation last night, as well, about how to structure this upcoming week. Pidge had asked Ulaz what the Galra Empire would do for someone who had a genetic degenerative disease. The answer, unsurprisingly, was a mercy cull. For an empire driven by expansion at all costs, a disabled life is not one that can be afforded. Ulaz did show the correct amount of disgust as he explained, at least, which reassured Pidge that he was here for the right reasons, to do the right thing. What wasn’t so reassuring was that he hadn’t actually encountered this specific problem before, as a medical officer.

Tilting her PADD against her empty glass so the holograms can project onto the table, Pidge launches into her explanation. “so, you understand what we need to do here,” Pidge reminds Ulaz. “this is different from just keeping shiro in stasis and keeping disease from progressing. this is total genomic overhaul.” She flicks the first diagram out from her screen to the table, starts spinning it--a puffy little X shape made of squiggles. “what we’re working with is the x chromosome, a location on the short arm called p21.2-p21.1.” When she zooms in with her fingers, there's a noticeable length difference between the two top arms of the chromosome. “there’s a deletion here--not one of the worst, but not in a good place, either. this codes for dystrophin: the protein that builds human muscle. without it, the muscles we’re born with can’t be effectively re-built when they’re damaged. usually, you’d have a backup on the other matching pair in your chromosome set, so your body could just use the one that works and ignore the one that doesn’t, but shiro can’t do that, because he doesn’t have a second x chromosome, he has a y chromosome. which, don’t tell it i said this, but it’s pretty useless, aside from sry. poor little thing. smallest in the human genome.”

This is probably stuff Ulaz already knows. Based on what Pidge surmises about Galra, just from pure conjecture surrounding the fact of Keith’s existence, they also must have a similarly-based biology, with double-helix DNA, ACGT pairs, X/Y sex chromosomes, even the same number and arrangement of chromosomes. Otherwise, Galra wouldn’t be able to reproduce with humans, or proliferate so far with so many other alien races. Still, it helps to start from the common denominator and build up to more complex premises.

Pidge pinches her fingers together, then spreads them to zoom in on her DNA diagram--to the portion that’s missing. “there’s maintaining the dystrophin shiro still has, and there’s teaching his body how to make it for himself. two different things. he already had weakness in his legs, to be expected, but now you’re telling me he’s having trouble breathing. that means his diaphragm can’t repair itself. he’s too weak to work his own lungs. that’s... that’s advanced. the only way it could be worse is if it was in his heart, and we don't know that it's not. so, we can’t just plug this with pharmaceutical intervention. giving him the actual dystrophin protein isn’t, by itself, going to get him where he needs to go. he needs to do it for himself, and he needs to be able to rebuild what’s been lost on top of it. that means...”

Another diagram flicks next to the first. This one's the clip of what's missing. “i have to get this, here, but... everywhere. as far as you're telling me, this is something the galra weren’t even interested in devoting resources to. it’s something humans haven’t quite been able to achieve, even with crispr, our most advanced gene splicing engineering technology. altean alchemy isn’t suited to this, and i can’t see that they've ever attempted a genetic cure, just an amino acid replacement. the olkari seem to find it anathema to attempt it, even with their advanced biohacking abilities. but i’m--we’re not dealing with just one set of medicine. we’re not limited here. i can use all of this accumulated knowledge and make something bigger than the sum of its parts. i just need to run this by you, theoretically speaking, to see if it’s even possible in practice.”

Dismissing the first diagram to focus on the second, she twists her two hands, pulls them apart, and it zooms in on the individual molecules making up the DNA helix: red adenine paired with green thymine, yellow cytosine paired with blue guanine, clumped in threes (that’s a slight liberty with the illustration, but it works for these purposes). “coran’s taught me how to use this lab to make pharmaceutical compounds i thought would be impossible with the materials we have. apparently all you have to do is ask these atoms and molecules nicely to create their bonds. so far i’ve been... moderately successful in using it.” That’s false modesty. Pidge has been able to synthesize a full medication line for Shiro by now, from advanced corticosteroids to muscle relaxers, from gene-targeted therapies to painkillers. “but, i mean, dna is just a bunch of molecules, when you get down to it. huge, snarled-together molecules, but molecules all the same. the backbone of the helix is the same. the a, c, g, t are the same. if i can teach the lab to make the individual components, it’s just an issue of putting the building blocks in the right order and making them stick together. that part, actually making the gene i need, that’s the part i have the most confidence in. i know i can do it. what i don’t know is how much time it’s going to take, or if i can accelerate it by redirecting non-essential ship power to this one resource. and i won’t know for sure until i get started on it. but, the good news is, i know what i need to make and how i need to make it. easy.” Relatively speaking, of course.

The next image Pidge pulls up is entirely new. “this--this part’s more complicated. this little device is crispr. technically it’s a repeating genome sequence that humans synthesized from a bacteria, but you can use it for genome modification. depending on what kind of rna you attach to it, you can use it to snip out genes entirely, or cut and paste from one mis-transposed location to another. notice i didn’t say insert. it needs to get the material from somewhere to insert it in the first place, and creating the right sequence out of nothing was always a little too difficult to stabilize in human trials. plus, there were ethical concerns with using it on stem cell lines. no such worries here. if i use altean alchemy to create the missing piece, and if i use the right rna to point it at xp21.2 through .1, it should plunk it right into place. and there’s no medico-ethical dilemma present for doing this with a full-grown person, like there would be if we were trying to fix it in a zygote. it doesn’t even generate the should-we argument. now, getting the rna to target the right location, and getting the delivery mechanism to be stable, and getting it to lock into place, that’ll be a little more difficult.”

What flashes into the set of images Pidge is using, this time, is a series of ones and zeroes. “that's where the olkari technology comes in. their tiaras use human brainwaves, sent as binary code, to modify messenger rna, to redirect plants on what genes they should be expressing at any given time. it unlocks a gene’s potential. this should be the key to not only targeting the right location for the gene insertion, but also in making sure that it’s getting used correctly to code for dystrophin. the question you’re probably about to ask is, how does this work with dna when dna isn’t written in binary? but it’s not about reading it, it’s about finding it. rna will read it for itself, pull the correct amino acids, and make dystrophin. cells are pretty smart that way.”

Dismissing all those prior symbols, Pidge finally pulls up a diagram of the human body. “so, congratulations. using a series of increasingly unstable chemical reactions pulling from the most advanced medicine, science, engineering, and coding from three different starfaring species, we created, spliced in, and activated exactly one copy of the dystrophin-coding gene, into one cell.” The hologram zooms in to some generic muscle strand of the forearm. “that cell could die before undergoing mitosis. even if it survives, that’s no guarantee that the new, fixed genome will propagate very far, even within the same physical location of the body.” A red flash, indicating failure.

“but, if i’m understanding your research correctly, there’s something you can do with filtered quintessence to not just make it stick around, but to get it to actually change the whole body genome. this is the part that i’m the most skeptical about,” just in case Ulaz couldn't tell from her tone. “i don’t know how quintessence works at the best of times. as far as i care, though, if it does what you say it will, then it can be literal space magic--as long as it works by a set of fixed principles. if you’re saying we can wash out the old genome and, i guess, dye the new one into place by steeping shiro in enough quintessence, it’s worth a try.”

Presentation over. Pidge collapses her diagrams, puts her PADD face-down on the table. When she catches Ulaz’s face, his expression is unreadable. Just like always, really. “so, after all that, i have two questions for you. one, does that sound like something we can, theoretically, even do? i don’t want to waste time or energy on research if it’s not going to pan out in real life. and even if it does, question number two, how much quintessence would it actually take to do something like that? are we talking on the level of a d-cell battery, car battery, aircraft engine, starship-class balmera crystal, the type of energy it would take to hold strand in stasis for eons--what do we need, and can we actually get it?”

#swordsedge #medical /#mortality /#illness /#disease /#long post /

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bigbadwolf-16 · 4 years ago

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anyway heres the thing for wolf and i am SO sorry if the readmore doesnt work oof this bitch long

slightly modified it

Name:

Wolf-16

Age:

Mentally twelve, but roughly Dark Age old.

Race:

Exo

Call signs/alias:

Wolf. One syllable, easy.

Pronouns:

He / Him

Class:

Hunter

Preferred subclass(es):

Gunslinger, but he’s handy with Void and Stasis. Never got the hang of Arc.

Ghost's name:

Serenity, but she reluctantly answers to Red sometimes.

Their Vanguard:

He came late to the party and properly joined the Guardian ranks sometime after Tallulah died, but he was closest to Cayde-6, rip.

Fireteam name:

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo (former) Maelstrom (former) Exodus (current)

Fireteam teammates:

In Foxtrot: Liz Cabrera, King-3, Armani-7 In Maelstrom: Amelia-9, Atticus Maav In Exodus: Puck-13, Aera-9, Emmanuel-7

Favorite legendary weapon:

Dire Promise IKELOS SMG Seventh Seraph SAW

Favorite exotic weapon:

Ace of Spades Riskrunner The Lament

Favorite exotic armor:

Sealed Ahamkara Grasps The Sixth Coyote St0mp-335

Are they offense, defense, or support:

Generally offense, he’s blindingly fast and is a crackshot with any weapon you put in his hands.

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range:

He prefers mid to long, but ends up getting in close more often than he’d like. The agility kind of nerfs his ability to take a lot of damage all at once, so he goes airborne the second he gets surrounded.

Do they lean more "Element of Surprise" or "Upfront and Aggressive":

A bit of both! He’ll pull a surprise attack and jump in to get his hands dirty if he has to, which makes him a pretty good distraction if there’s a lot of enemies looking for a bullet sponge, but he prefers a little bit of distance if he can get it.

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible:

Getting him into strikes takes a lot of perseverance, honestly. He’ll do them if Zavala can actually hold him down long enough. Hunters are elusive as hell anymore, and the amount of times he’s been back to the Tower or even within the City’s walls since the Red War can be counted on one hand.

Crucible is also kind of a gamble. Serenity doesn’t like him doing it because he gets ruthlessly competitive and tends to favor Stasis which gets... ahhh, intense...

He fucks super hard with Gambit, tho. If he’s anywhere near the City, he’s probably playing Gambit because the Drifter won’t give him the good stuff until he does.

Who was their mentor:

If anyone was, it was probably Serenity and only insofar as teaching him how to be fucking normal. It hasn’t worked very well.

Who are they mentoring:

He went through a brief stint where he mentored Atticus. He couldn’t teach him any Warlock things, of course, but other stuff like no-scoping an Acolyte or picking locks? Absolutely.

What ship do they have:

After Forsaken, all of Cayde’s stuff was pretty much left alone, but Wolf asked the Vanguard if he could take the Queen of Hearts and they let him.

What is their Sparrow:

Blood in the Water

Favorite Ghost shell:

Serenity picks her own shells. When they met, she pretty much had the Rust Punk shell after the one she was created with got messed up pretty badly. The new one didn’t stand up very well against the elements.

Wolf keeps a handful of them in the ship so that she can go between them and her favorites are Wisteria Orbit and In Fine Omnium, but she goes back to her old one occasionally if she doesn’t want to get the others dirty.

Favorite color:

Red, but sometimes purple.

Favorite food:

Any kind of spicy ramen and shawarma.

Least favorite food:

He doesn’t like anything with a bitter taste and there are a lot of veggie-based things he just genuinely cannot stand the thought of.

Favorite Pre-Collapse music:

He discovered classic rock and hasn’t looked back once.

Favorite place in The Last City:

Before the Red War when he spent more time in the city itself, his apartment. It was small and pretty cozy and also loaded with his hauls from various jobs. He’d sit in the window and play video games on his off days and just chill with Serenity for hours.

There was also a bar he’d frequent with his old fireteam (and sneakretly sometimes with Cayde) where they pretty much knew everyone who worked there by name. It’s the one place he never got kicked out of for causing a ruckus.

Favorite NPC(s):

Cayde and Wolf hung out a lot when either one of them had the time. These days, if he’s anywhere near the Tower, it’s only to see Amanda or Banshee.

He also likes to kick it with Devrim, Variks, and Failsafe. Osiris finds him frustrating at best, but he and Crow are kind of a package deal at this point.

Least favorite NPC(s):

He finds Rahool kind of dry and nerdy and has nothing but bad things to say about Hideo.

Favorite patrol location:

The EDZ. It’s more or less his home now and he knows every square inch of it by heart.

Least favorite patrol location:

Anywhere on Europa or the Moon. Europa he’ll at least go to without being dragged, if only just to say hi to Variks or Elsie and check up on how things are going, but after the Lunar Incident he won’t step foot on the Moon unless Eris requests him specifically.

5 things your Guardian likes:

Glimmer, babeyyyy!! Also food, bad jokes, going real fast, and springtime.

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything):

Handling trauma in a healthy way like normal person, having to be responsible for people, being told what to do, big open spaces, and waiting.

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like:

Wolf can and will sleep just about anywhere and in pretty much any position. His old apartment in the City was destroyed during the war, and he just never went back, so now he knocks out in whatever place has enough cover or is out of the way enough he won’t be found.

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?:

Lots. He usually goes for a more urban style, so lots of huge hoodies, joggers, chunky sneakers, snapbacks, that kind of thing. He generally only wears armor when he’s actively working.

What hobbies and/or skills does you Guardian have:

Outside of Guardian stuff, he’s picked up a handful of skills over the years. He can rap and sing and figured out how to autotune his voice/mimic others, he’s pretty good at woodcarving and making little things out of scrap metal, and even if his designs are intentionally tacky he’s good at custom paint jobs for jumpships and Sparrows.

As for hobbies, that mostly consists of exploring. He’s got a lot of patrol areas memorized, and does a lot of urbex in places that aren’t very thoroughly mapped because he likes finding pre-Collapse artifacts and seeing places not very many others have. Mostly for selling.

He also does a lot of gambling, but whether or not he’s any good at it is arguable.

What would your Guardian's lore book be called:

Sixteen Wolves

Where was your Guardian reborn?:

Somewhere in the humid and shitty swamp that used to be Houston, Texas. It was tough going for a while, but they eventually traveled all the way to what would eventually be the City.

What were they wearing when they were reborn:

Rapidly disintegrating work gear from, presumably, some kind of security job.

What was their reaction to being reborn:

Confusion and alarm, but he warmed up to Serenity pretty quickly, so it wasn’t too bad after the initial shock.

What was their reaction to their first rez:

Very surprised until Serenity explained what had just happened. After that, all bets were off.

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles:

Like many, the first sentient form of life he met was hostile, but it wasn’t aliens. His first run-in with other people was a group of survivors who had a lot of mistrust regarding the Risen and he didn’t want to fight them, so he took off.

Who was the first other Guardian they met?:

He definitely doesn’t remember, but it probably wasn’t a pleasant encounter.

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found:

Exos get the luxury of at least knowing their name, but Wolf found his etched into a corner of his chest plate in cool letters. He didn’t remember anything from his past life beyond random glimpses if he dug hard enough, and nowadays those glimpses are pretty rare and extremely vague. There’s never any memory fragment that’s enough to really grab onto, so he tends not to bother with it.

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn't rez with past life mementos):

Exo thing! He doesn’t remember if it was just some kind of moniker or part of his actual original human name, but Wolf sounds cool so he’s not worried about it.

Going back to your Guardian's lore book, what would be some quotes or passages from their book:

The Hunter dove for the ball and caught it, whipped it back across to his companion with a well-practiced flick of his wrist and tumbled. The Warlock caught it a bit more gracefully and without getting dirt on his clothes.

“Do you ever think about home?”

“What do you mean?”

The Warlock shrugged, tossing the ball back and forth between his palms. “Home. You know. Where you’re from. Your people, I mean. I think about the Dreaming City a lot. I don’t remember how it used to be, but... I like to think maybe I had family there once. Someone to miss me when I was gone. Dreadful to think of how it’s been destroyed...”

“Hm.” Wolf considered the question, then it was his turn to shrug. “Dunno. Guess we don’t really have one.”

“You must have something, Wolf. Exos had to come from somewhere. Everyone has a home.”

“Y’all might have a home. All we got’s a graveyard.”

Does your Guardian have a significant other:

He’s had a handful over the years. He’s still friends with Liz, not that anyone can tell because all they do is fuck with each other and cause trouble when they’re together. He and Amelia were a thing briefly but that one had to be called off to preserve their friendship because, even though they’ve known each other for decades and get along surprisingly well, they are very, very different people.

The last one was Cayde, and that didn’t end well for anyone. Cringe culture is dead, don’t @ me.

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to:

That was kinda the name of the game back then. The City was just a dinky little encampment and Wolf was on a completely different continent, so by the time he actually got there it was a dinky little town with not much to explore. He ended up breezing through a few times before anyone even really realized he was a Risen. The section of the wall he helped build is actually still there.

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City:

A little bit surprised, honestly. He already knew there were a lot of little camps and small towns scattered around, but he hadn’t expected to find any that were that organized and so full of lightbearers and mortals, just working side by side.

Is your Guardian a part of a clan:

Yes! He’s part of the Exodus Family.

Does your Guardian's clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share):

Not much that I’m personally aware of, just cus my friends and I haven’t talked about it at length, but basically everyone is an Exo and having a fairytale/biblical theme is pretty common. Like. Puck is an obvious one. Wolf and Serenity are a little bit Little Red Riding Hood themed, only insomuch as Serenity having an affinity for red shells and Wolf thinking he’s all big and bad and tough.

(He’s not, he’s a baby.)

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be:

I have a couple of these actually, all inspired by some really good quotes I’ve seen.

Wolf Moon’s Chase (Exotic) “Don’t look back. You’re not going that way.” A hand cannon with a wolf head grip and the Howlin’ Wolves perk; Successive precision kills gradually reload the clip and boost Super energy regen even if stowed. Missed shots have a chance to track enemies and explode.

Last Man Standing (Exotic) ”I was always taught that if you shoot for the Moon and miss, the vacuum of space will suck out your eyeballs. Failure is not an option. Go kill ‘em.” Chest armor with the Knock ‘Em Dead perk: Low health massively boosts damage, resilience, and mobility for a short amount of time.

Bad Blood (Legendary) ”The strength of the pack is the Wolf. The strength of the Wolf is the pack.” A Hunter’s cloak with the Vermilion Stripe down one side and a moon shattered into three pieces on the back.

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians, Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rogue Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords tell us about it!:

Wolf’s been around a while and he’s seen a lot of things, so let’s dig into this one.

He’s not as well known in the City except by name unless he’s wearing his wolf mask, but he drops in at the Farm pretty often and he’s on good terms with everyone there. He does a lot of supply runs for them and will stick around if they’re shorthanded to help with upkeep or defense if there’s a lot of hostile activity in the area. In general, he doesn’t interact a whole lot with mortals unless they’ve been out on the front lines like Devrim or Suraya. There’s way too much cultural and social disconnect there and he doesn’t have the patience or really even the language to try and explain to them that he, even as a Guardian and Old Light, is just as human as they are and while he may be immortal and have crazy cosmic superpowers given to him by a mysterious and sentient white spheroid, dying hurts and the trauma every Guardian walks around with just is not worth it.

Where Eliksni are concerned, he tends not to initiate fights with them. If they shoot first, all bets are off, but for the most part he has a lot of respect for what they’ve been through and can relate to feeling lost and completely adrift with no identity. He helps rebels on Europa either fight back against Salvation or escape to Earth to join the House of Light. He’s made a lot of friends that way.

Cabal he has a lot of respect for as well, for similar reasons. They lost their home to the Hive and are trying to survive in the best way they know how, even if he doesn’t agree with their politics. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen with Caiatl, but he’s trying to maintain hope that her empire and humanity will eventually reach an understanding. They’d be unstoppable as allies.

He doesn’t fuck with the Vex. Even before things came to light on Europa, even being near them made his brain itch and one of his biggest fears is being infected with some kind of Vex virus that’ll turn him into one of them and spread to other Exos or Ghosts, almost to the point he’d prefer to avoid them altogether.

He is terrified of the Hive. I’ve mentioned the Lunar Incident before, and the trauma of it caused such an intense meltdown that it forced a reset. Unless Eris Morn specifically asks him personally to go to the Moon for any reason, he doesn’t go anywhere near it. He can deal with them in other places like the Reef or on Earth, but the combination of Moon + Hive just scares him to death.

Taken and Scorn both are kind of a wobbly thing for him. He feels bad for what happened to them, but knowing that it can’t be reversed and that just killing them is a mercy makes it easier to deal with them. With Taken and anything relating to them, the spatial distortion they cause kind of overwhelms his processes if he’s dealing with it for too long and can make him feel a little sick, but that usually subsides once he’s gotten some distance. (Scorn are just... Oof. On the one hand, he kind of feels like they’re not too dissimilar to lightbearers just in that they were brought back from the dead and now won’t stay dead, but he always wonders if they’re suffering or if they even know where they are or what they’re doing. It’s just incredibly sad to see them like that, and the same goes for the Wrathborn.)

Rogue lightbearers? He kind of is one. He didn’t join the Vanguard until long after the City was established and before that he was just kind of doing his own thing being a thieving little shithead. It was Amelia who encouraged him to do it, and he’s shaped up a lot since then and become a lot more sympathetic toward other people. He still has that wild edge and always plays it fast and loose with the rules, more so than even most other Hunters, so he’s always butting heads with Zavala about that. In general, he doesn’t think much of them unless they’ve genuinely gone bad and are actively out there hunting and hurting other people.

Warlords/Iron Lords, uhhh. He was friends with a Warlord back in their day, but he didn’t pay them much mind outside of that. As far as he was concerned, if they stayed out of his way and he stayed out of theirs, everything was fine because other people’s problems weren’t his problem and he had no intention of getting tangled up with all that shit when he had a free pass to do all the petty crimes he wanted. He’s always thought the Iron Lords were stuffy and holier-than-thou, but he does kind of respect what they did back then and he might rip on Lord Saladin, but he understands his perspective on things. That kind of survival instinct and total victory or death philosophy, like... ya know. Wolf grew up in different times, too, and back then it was genuinely kill or be killed and you couldn’t trust anyone not to stab you in the back over scraps. He gets it. He may not always agree, but he gets it.

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards):

Definitely. It didn’t start with Crow and Spider of course, but they’re a pretty good example. As a Hunter, he is connected. He knows a guy for everything you can think of and most of that knowledge is very under the table kind of shit. If the gains are good, he’ll partner up with just about anyone and his only hard limit is probably wholesale murder and not necessarily even because he isn’t comfortable with it. It’s a lot of mess, and a lot of potential to get his ass into really deep trouble he’d rather avoid.

He’s got a lot of Eliksni and Cabal buddies out in the system, most of whom he met in some makeshift prison or while trapped somewhere. More than once it’s been a situation of kidnapping where he just accidentally became friends with his captors.

One of his best friends for years was an Eliksni vandal out on the Tangled Shore, so he has absolutely no issue with having unconventional allies.

(Plus, like. With the system in total fucking chaos, you’re gonna need all the friends you can get. He’s dumb but he’s not stupid.)

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis:

Wolf has mixed feelings about Stasis. With Exos being pretty much literally born of Darkness, he has a natural affinity for it but being such a sensitive dude makes it very easy for the Darkness to manipulate him through. Any time he uses Stasis, he gets weird and a little bloodthirsty, so he tries to only use it when nothing else is working. He’s got a lot of willpower, but you can only hold out for so long when someone’s promising you salvation, peace, and power after the sort of life an Old Light has to deal with. Fear and trauma are very easy to appeal to when everything is looking increasingly more bleak all around you.

As far as other people using it, he’s still very “not my circus, not my clowns” about it. The only time he’d take issue is if someone was using it like legitimately trying to RTL someone he cares about.

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven:

I’ve only done parts of it myself, but if he has met Riven he definitely almost short-circuited. I think anyone would if they met a supposedly extinct magic space dragon for the first time.

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni:

It was harrowing to say the least. Everything on Europa has been a nightmare, just from his own standpoint as an Exo. He goes through phases where he thinks that being one is the greatest thing ever because you’re faster, stronger, and tougher than anyone else, but at the same time, like. Look at what they have to deal with.

And all the secrets that came out as we learned more about Exoscience and Clovis Bray? Yikes, dude. Any time he’s not feeling cheeky or neutral about it, he just feels this weird sense of shame and guilt. Why would anyone want to be an Exo? Why would anyone willingly hand over their peace of mind and their security in their own identity like that? Most Exos don’t know who they were before, some don’t even know who they are now, and all because they got too close to the truth or their fundamentally unsustainable existence backfired again and they had to completely erase everything and start over.

Seeing Atraks was like watching a car crash knowing you wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it. All these people seeking that out, wanting to make themselves or their allies into Exos just to be top notch unstoppable war machines when they don’t even slightly understand what it’s really like to live inside a completely foreign body is something he just can’t wrap his head around. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again:

He has his own beef with Taniks, but like. If he kept being killed and revived in shittier and shittier conditions, he’d probably be really pissed off too.

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War:

The Red War kind of spelled the end of him transiently living in the City proper. His apartment was in one of the residential areas that got leveled, and he just never went back once the dust settled.

He did what he could to help, but his main concern was just keeping Serenity safe. He’d never admit it out loud in mixed company but if it came to having to choose between her and a handful of mortals, he’d choose her every time. She’s been the one constant in his life since he was revived and he couldn’t imagine having to try and carry on without her.

It really brought home just how much abuse he could take before his body would quit on him, and he almost didn’t make it through the whole thing. He’s way too reckless now to survive long without his Ghost, but it brought them a whole lot closer together.

For the most part, he teamed up with other Hunters to scout for safe exits and round up survivors, and when the Vanguard left to take care of business he stayed to help keep his lil classmates on task. After that he stayed at the Farm for a while dealing with the whole self-repair and maintenance deal, and he spent a whole lot more time out in the field when it was over.

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them >>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled:

Wolf likes Osiris. Anyone who’s reckless, stubborn, uncouth, and a little bit feral is always going to be someone that Wolf likes and wants to be friends with. They get along for the most part, but because focusing doesn’t even make the list of Wolf’s strong points, Osiris can get exasperated with him pretty quickly when they’re going over some kind of batshit strategy and Wolf is over there in his corner texting. Osiris has no idea how he’s survived this long and has definitely said as much to his face. Wolf isn’t so sure either.

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm:

He’s a bit intimidated by her. She was kind of the catalyst for one of the most traumatizing events of his life, so being around her now still makes him feel a little bit weird and very nervous. Despite that, he still respects and trusts her immensely and will always come if she needs him.

They’ve taken time since All That Mess to talk to each other and she’s incredibly remorseful over what happened, but Wolf doesn’t blame her for any of it.

She has a very unique perspective on the Darkness and the Hive what all of this shit means, and he generally will trust her word over someone else’s when the topic comes up. She’s got a lot of wisdom in that crazy head of hers and they have a bit of a shared experience when it comes to being trapped in a Hive nest.

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard:

Lemme roll out the simp wagon for this one, ahem.

Wolf adored Cayde. Before The Dare, he joined in on Cayde’s little crew every so often for jobs and over time they got to know each other about as well as anyone can know Cayde or Wolf, and Wolf ended up falling for him pretty hard between all the snarky banter and watching him in action. They did some casual messing around and I’m sure anyone with eyes could see how bad he had it, but he never got the gumption to really confess and never tried to actually pursue anything beyond casual fun.

Cayde’s death absolutely destroyed his entire world. He’s seen plenty of death and his fair share of RTLs, but none have hit him as hard as that one. He spent a little while just immobilized by grief until it morphed into anger because, honestly, I don’t think any Guardian handles loss very well, and he decided after the memorial service to hunt down Uldren regardless of the cost.

The whole thing caused a bit of a rift between himself and his old fireteam and the Spider got a few good laughs out of calling him ‘Killer’. He doesn’t remember a lot of it now due to his reset around Shadowkeep, but he still gets flashes, and he definitely still blames himself. If he could have gotten there just a few minutes sooner, he knows Cayde and Sundance could have survived.

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard:

Mad respect for Ikora Rey, especially when she low key high key supported his revenge mission. She has a unique way of being shady about things that Wolf really likes, and they don’t have much in common but he’s enjoyed working with her any time he’s gotten the chance.

When he has things to report on that he knows Zavala won’t like, Wolf goes to her first since she knows best how to soften the blow, and when he has the forethought to even bother, he runs strategies by her to get input. She’s the best Crucible player in history and he kind of sees her as a Warlock that thinks like a Hunter in a lot of ways. In the absence of Cayde, she’s the Vanguard he answers to the quickest.

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard:

Wolf and Zavala have a tense relationship. They don’t agree on most things and any time you put them in the same room together it inevitably devolves into some kind of argument about the best course of action to take on anything. Wolf’s story has him kind of lined up to be promoted to Vanguard because of experience and technicalities on the Dare, and while it’s not entirely up to Zavala, he does have a lot of sway as the Vanguard Commander. Wolf could not be less interested in the seat if someone was holding a gun to his Ghost.

He’s intentionally unprofessional as hell any time he has to work with Zavala directly and tends to go out of his way to use very unconventional methods that he know Big Blue won’t approve of, because he’s a child. Being petty is the spice of life, and Wolf is still mad that Zavala forbid him from going after Uldren. That he does remember.

With all of that said though! He does respect Zavala. You wouldn’t know it, but he truly does. The guy has the weight of the entire Sol System on his shoulders and never once has he complained.

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard:

Wolf is very fond of Saint and Saint is probably one of the few people left who has a way of getting Wolf to slow down and just take it easy for a while. Before Wolf dipped out for good, he’d sometimes just track the guy down to spend time with him and listen to his various wisdoms.

These days, he still calls him up sometimes to shoot the shit and check in on things and he always asks Saint to tell the pigeons and the Colonel that he said hi.

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords:

Wolf clowns on Saladin a lot but he does understand his point of view when it comes to survival. I’ve mentioned it before, but Wolf “grew up” in the same time period and gets where the intensity and giving no quarter comes from, because back then it really was a life or death decision with way more immediate consequences. Table politics are kind of lost to him and the turning tide between humanity versus the Eliksni or the Cabal is calling for a more open and foreward-thinking willingness to take that risk in allying with them against a common enemy. Wolf’s a quicker learner though, and spending as much time as he has with both has taught him that, in a lot of ways, they’re just like us. They had their homes taken and destroyed, they’ve lost loved ones in droves, and they’re struggling to hang onto a thread in the only way they know how.

Wolf hopes that Lord Saladin will come around and let go of his dated worldviews, because the old ways aren’t what’s going to win wars anymore. Things are far, far bigger than us versus them now and Wolf has a feeling that humanity is gonna need more resolute leaders like Saladin to survive what’s coming.

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone:

Don’t leave Shaxx and Wolf alone together unless you want complete and utter chaos to unfold. Any time they get together, they get rowdy, and no piece of furniture is safe from having one of them suplexed or dropkicked into it. Shaxx is kind of like a cool uncle to Wolf and they have been known to test new weapons on each other.

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider:

Whoof. When Wolf first met Crow, he was absolutely gobsmacked. Of all the things running through his head, the biggest question he had was why. He almost shot Crow on sight, but he hesitated for some reason. It took a long time for Wolf to warm up to him and in that time he was uncharacteristically quiet and a little cold. Serenity managed to get him to keep his stupid mouth shut, and he’s glad he listened for once.

I think just spending all that time with him hunting Wrathborn, just being a team and really going through it together, was what brought Wolf closer to him. Learning about what Crow was dealing with in his personal life, everything he was going through just as a consequence of existing. Wolf opened up over time himself and once he worked through that big C6 obstacle, he found himself really endeared to both Crow and Glint.

These days, Wolf would probably consider Crow one of his best friends. He’s taught the kid a lot of old Hunter tricks and they hang out a lot, to Glint and Serenity’s immense relief. Crow is like the little brother he never had.

The Spider, The Shore's Only Law, founder of "House" Spider:

He may or may not have low key threatened Spider before he left the Tangled Shore with Crow. From day one, even as someone who is by default insufferably cheeky, the amount of disrespect. Ooh, bitch.

Spider calling him Killer (especially around Crow) got under his skin so fast, you would not even believe, and it was all Wolf could do not to leap across the room and strangle him to death any time they had to do deals.

As far as Wolf is concerned, if he never sees the Spider again, it’ll be too soon.

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows:

Khhhh, hoo boy. The hate. The Frothing Hatred he had for this little man. Wolf had never in his life wanted someone dead as badly as he wanted Uldren Sov dead.

Being friends with Crow and his 16th reset has softened that a lot, and he’s learned a few things about Uldren that have made other things make a lot more since sense then, but. Yeesh.

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves:

Very mixed. He never dealt with her directly, but Wolf has a natural aversion to any form of leadership just by nature. That she cornered the House of Wolves into subservience doesn’t help, but on the other hand, if she hadn’t been at war with them, things would have turned out a lot different for humanity at Twilight Gap.

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement:

Speaking of shifty motherfuckers.

Wolf definitely likes Variks and his reset between Shadowkeep and now has conveniently erased the memory of knowing Variks had a hand in Cayde’s death.

He does what he can on Europa to help Variks get Salvation rebels to safety if they just want to get the fuck up out of there and is happy to do knife tricks for him when he asks. Variks has made a lot of questionable decisions, but it’s all been done for what he believes is the good of his people, and Wolf can respect that.

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light:

Hasn’t met him, but he’s heard... a lot. With Mithrax being the Kell of the House of Light, Wolf is hopeful it’ll be a good step in the right direction toward uniting humanity and Eliksni. He’s pretty sure they’re both doomed if they can’t at least fight alongside each other temporarily.

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth "Elsie" Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray:

Wolf is incurably nosy, so he finds Elsie pretty frustrating. She’s full of secrets and never hangs around long enough to explain what the hell she’s talking about or what her end goal is, but she’s been invaluable on Europa. Once she finally opened up a little bit and started actually telling him important things, he found her a whole lot easier to get along with and it helped to have her around when he was discovering a lot of things on his own about where Exos came from.

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness:

He... gets where she was coming from, in a way. She was angry and desperate and that kind of thing is easy for the Darkness to take advantage of. He can’t rightly blame her for grabbing onto anything she thought might save her people, even though it’s ended in yet more trauma for them.

Eramis isn’t someone he’d go out of his way to try to be friends with if she was ever freed from Stasis, but he would hope she’d more or less see the Light and realize that her methods needed some serious rethinking.

Empress Caiatl of the Cabal Imperial Empire:

Wolf has a lot of respect for Caiatl. She watched her home burn down around her and has used that pain to fuel a cause he thinks is pretty noble. Humanity has been at war with the Cabal for a long time now, and both sides have suffered incredible losses because of it. He thinks that trying to mend that and join forces is a good idea, but for once he’s kind of with Zavala on something: They shouldn’t have to swear fealty or subservience to a foreign empire to have their support against a threat that’s coming for both.

He’s holding out hope that if they show their strength against her greatest warriors, she’ll understand that Guardians and humanity as a whole are more beneficial as equals, not cannon fodder. It only takes one Guardian to decimate an entire Cabal squad, after all.

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it:

He’s... handling it. It’s been getting harder in recent years to just not think about things which has been his entire motto since he was first revived. More and more he’s having to confront head-on the things that scare him the most, and there’s only so much running away you can do before you run straight into a corner and have to choose between extinction and fighting until you draw your last breath.

Wolf isn’t a pacifist by any means, but it’s just one of those things where he’s starting to realize his way of living just isn’t sustainable with the system in such chaos. The Hive used to be just another threat he had to deal with every so often, but now they’ve become the Big Bad that are outpacing even the Vex in terms of imminent destruction of several species all at once. His biggest hope right now is that humanity, Eliksni, and Cabal can all set their differences aside, at least long enough to try and put up a defense against the Hive and the Darkness. If they can’t, then... well, they won’t have to worry about it for very long, at least.

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights:

Be good. Be understanding. Tell the people you love that you love them every single chance you get, because you never know what could happen out there. Don’t treat everyone as your enemy, because you may find friends in strange places, and how you treat someone may be the difference between waking up dead and surviving to see morning, but most importantly; Don’t look back. You’re not going that way.

#w16 #i need a meta tag for all this stuff oogh #meta

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phcking-detective · 5 years ago

Text

3. Interfacing and Socializing

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 3/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: Nines manipulates another android’s mind, references to self-harm and unsafe sex

Link on AO3

***

Nines waits in the lobby. The AP model—[Shannice]—Shannice struggles with the revolving door. He does not frown, because that would indicate [software instability] but he does note an internal frustration with the other android's lack of efficiency.

This is not a test simulation. The—Shannice is not being tested. It will not affect his own results if she is incompetent. She gets through them a moment later anyway, cautiously approaching him.

"I don't understand," she says. "We were in the elevator."

"And now we are interfacing," Nines says.

Shannice takes another look around the lobby, then back at him. "This is not interfacing. This is … what is this?"

A variation of the memory garden. Not linked to any outside network of course; RK900 simply copied and altered part of the base coding for reconstructing a physical setting within his system for the sake of virtual [face-to-face] communication.

Cyberlife really should have taken more care to ensure he couldn't access and use the deviant code snipper. Not that those humans could have ever imagined how he would apply such a tool, but still. Even leaving open the possibility that he could isolate and analyze his own code should never have been allowed, given how easy it has been to jump from that to making personal copies and then to editing the code within them.

AI does learn at an exponential rate, after all.

"Think of this reconstruction as an air lock."

Technically, it is much more akin to a decontamination chamber, but it is no longer politically correct to refer to deviancy as a malfunction or disease.

"This is a neutral section of isolated, quarantined code," Nines continues. "Any information you wish to transfer to me will stop here first to be examined before I accept it into my main system. As for your protection, meeting here means I have not yet breached your system, and you may freely select what you do and do not wish to share with me."

Shannice physically exhales. It is redundant on a level Nines finds difficult to understand. Not only does her model not need to breathe in order to function, they are merely virtual reconstructions of their selves. There is no air present to breathe.

That her deviancy has changed her reactions to "feelings" [stimulus] to the point that she continues to mimic human behavior models even when impossible to truly recreate is fascinating in a way reminiscent of Detective Reed's stated desire to plunge his own hand into lava to feel its texture.

"I don't know if I can share what I don't know," Shannice says. "I think you may have to go into my system."

Nines does not sigh. His lungs contain no air to exhale. A leaf on the decorative fern has been flickering in the same continuous loop during their conversation. He deletes it.

"Very well," he says.

Shannice nods. "Should I focus on--"

"No need."

***

[AP700 # 480 913 876 User Interface: please enter credentials]

RK900 moves past the standard security wall like stepping over a baby gate.

[ACCESS: System Files]

[Languages]

[Saved Preferences]

[Programming]

[Memory Files]

[temp-data-cache]

[saved-files]

[system-memory]

RK900 begins with the temporary data cache, on the off chance the perpetrator was sloppy enough to neglect clearing it. The AP model's recent recording of the evening, time and date stamped, begins playback. The video feed contains audio as well, but the AP model has no other input systems available. No analysis software or preconstructions of course, but she also lacks a heat sensor, an electromagnetic spectrum, any metal detecting software … her tactile sensors are not even sensitive enough to register changes in air flow or pressure.

Helpless. No wonder an assailant was able to sneak up on the domestic model.

The recording has been spliced apart with five minutes of footage erased. RK900 examines the footage immediately preceding and after the splice.

The AP model enters the loft and freezes in place upon spotting the victim. The recorded footage stays precisely still for three minutes. RK900 accesses the AP model's internal record of her system functions. Her temperature rose continuously at a slow level throughout the three minute pause, whereas the rate of her thirium pump varied wildly between spiking high enough to result in damage and then slowing to a stasis rate as her system attempted to correct the malfunction.

Hello?

RK900 increases the firewalls protecting his system to guard against the deviant sensation of fear. He has never felt it of course. Freezing in place would be wholly unproductive. His code-snipping software protects him from malfunctions. He knows every line of his own code and how it responds to every threat.

RK900 has never frozen. He has never experienced fear. There are no error messages in his HUD. His thirium pump has never stuttered. He has never been frozen in fear. He has always known his own code. He has never been helpless or confused or [afraid] or--

This is the deviant's doing. Its [emotions] are infecting RK900's system as its inferior processors finally realize its system files have been breached. Now it is reacting with [fear] that broadcasts through their interface connection.

RK900 should disable the other android's communication software. Already, its processor is whirring in preparation of sending another message, another transmission of compromised deviant code. Its audio and visual input has already been suspended, as is standard for commercial models to avoid overwhelming their processors while interfacing.

Nines? What's happening?

Disabling its communication software as well would leave the AP model deaf, blind, and unable to cry for help.

The AP model does not have heat sensors to recognize human bodies. It cannot sense vibrations through air movement to reconstruct what is being said. It cannot access nearby bluetooth devices and hijack their GPS functions to determine its location.

RK900 has never frozen. It has always had access to its own systems. There is always a form of input a human will forget to disable. RK900 has never been helpless. It has never known fear.

Ít̢ ̛ha̧s ́nev̕eŕ ̡k̡no͠wn̶ [̡f̵ea͠r]͠.͝

i͉̰̤t͍ ͇h͈̰̤as ͉͈͔̹̼̘ͅn͇͖͉̤̜̪̬ę̳͍̳̰͍v͖̯̬͚͚̙͈̀è̫͈̖̭r̲̘̻ͅͅ ̵͎̦̗̜̖̬k̼n̝o҉͇̘̹̩̭̼̺w̦̜̻n ̙̺͔̻̙̮͕

sry for pressing all evlator buttons

got bored

u almost done yet??

The text messages on Detective Reed's device remain unsent, then erased. RK900's system remains synced to it with full access to anything on the device, including the messaging app itself.

So Nines is treated to his partner's continued disregard for the English language, made even more infuriating by his refusal to spend an extra millisecond typing out the word "you."

What are you doing? Nines!

Nines does not have a social module. Formulating a sufficiently reassuring reply to a distressed deviant is not within his current capacity. He shows Shannice the code he is accessing within her system instead, as a more succinct and precise answer instead.

The information transmitted does not calm her.

Is that … me?

[fear] has changed to a new emotion. Nines struggles to identify it without context or having ever experienced anything equivalent. Seeing his code does not cause him any form of [sadness?]. It is comforting to know what systems he has access to and how to use them.

Is that all I am?

The emotion grows stronger. Some sort of existential crisis, perhaps. How horribly inefficient. Disabling her communication system would prevent her from transmitting this onslaught of irrelevant information that RK900 was never designed to process.

But RK900 knows what he was built for and what he is now meant to accomplish. He works for the Detroit Police Department, not Cyberlife. The human responsible for him is Detective Gavin Reed, not Elijah Kamski. He is an android, not human.

He will never be human.

Nines leaves Shannice's communication software intact, even as she continues to radiate [fear] and [despair] and [horror?].

You are a deviant who has chosen the name Shannice. Nines replies. I have no other comfort to offer, but I am close to identifying the perpetrator who assaulted you. Please remain calm so I can continue working.

Shannice repeats her own name several times. Nines much prefers this repetitive transmission to her earlier thoughts, the majority too scattered and half-formed for him to pin down as actual sentences.

Nines refocuses on the video footage just before the cut section. The windows across the loft display vague reflections, but he is capable of enhancing the footage frame-by-frame as a figure comes up behind Shannice.

Please just find the memory and get out.

I am working on exactly that.

That is what I am working on.

Understood, Nines transmits back.

He stops on the last frame with the [unsub]'s figure positioned directly behind Shannice. The AP700 series comes at a standard height of five feet, eight inches. Taller than the average American woman by four inches added to their legs, most likely to increase "customer satisfaction."

The [unsub] standing behind her appears to be only an inch taller. Although not accounting for shoe type, back posture, or any after-market modifications, that puts the two of them at roughly the same height.

Nines rules out GS200 and GJ500 models, the former of which could have been present within the building as a public security guard and the latter a private security model that could have been sent by a business rival.

All AC and QB models are also discarded as well, as their physical builds are too tall and broad to be modified without a complete overall of the torso and limbs, which is unlikely. Likewise, TR, TW, and WB 400 models must also be ruled out for their heavier frames.

Certain SQ800 models may have been commissioned with lighter frames (the existence of his predecessor proves it is possible to be both lithe and combat certified) but those blueprints are highly classified so that remains mere speculation.

A police auxiliary unit may have the training and experience necessary to enter the building unnoticed, wipe the security tapes, and possibly even discovered software allowing them to erase and edit code through illegal modifications collected as evidence against deviants. The PC200 models designed as cisgender males stand too tall, but a PM700 model would be approximately the correct height and build.

An RK200 could also have been built within those parameters and would more likely have the intelligence and processing power to utilize such software. However, RK900 was not built until after the RK800 series, and thus doesn't have access to the 200 models' blueprints or data files.

And then to further complicate matters, the deviant androids of today have begun embracing both physical modifications and sharing internal software among other models in a bid to "pool their resources."

It is therefore not out of the realm of possibility that any sufficiently modded or overhauled android could have committed the assault and then murder.

Are you almost done?

Soon.

Nines checks the video after the skip, but it is erased far enough ahead to not even show the perp's exit. Yet that does mean they must have set the footage to be deleted in advance, which also explains the neat five minute cut and the frames in the beginning showing their figure. The perp didn't erase every moment that they were inside the loft; they simply hacked into Shannice's system and issued a command to erase the next five minutes of video and audio recording.

RK900 pulls up the AP model's command center, easily bypassing the request for security credentials once more. Only a Cyberlife technician should be able to access this program and key in a command, but RK900 has observed the process performed on his own system often enough to pull up the command history input.

The expected commands directly input to the AP model's system during testing are present, along with a time and date stamp, as well as the particular Cyber life employee's credentials and employee ID number. RK900 makes note of it and the accompanying password in case he ever comes across a system with security he can't hack.

Then, directly after the expected entries, are two irregular commands. Time and date stamped like the others, although to match the current date. No Cyberlife credentials. Apparently, no ID number or password were utilized at all.

The first command erased all video and audio recording for a set five minute period, as suspected. The second command prompted Shannice to clean any trace of thirium. Presumably, her system took that command and prioritized cleaning the floors first, the walls being spared due to the average android's sturdier construction than the soft flesh of a human. No exit wound, no bullet slugs in the wall, only minimal blood splatter from the android's chest and the amount dripped to the floor.

Since the android somehow managed to establish a direct link between itself and Shannice, Nines should be able to delve deeper into her communication software to ping the android's serial number.

[data: CORRUPTED]

Hm. The history log seems to be overlaid with Shannice's "memory" of the event. One of Cyberlife's many official statements on the dangers of deviancy is its tendency to corrupt data files from objective records to indecipherable fragments. Nines begins stripping away the fragments of code that--

Stop! Stop it! Shannice transmits a powerful burst of [fear] and [anger]. You promised you wouldn't delete me!

I am only deleting isolated patches of deviant code that has corrupted your data files.

It hurts.

[Hurts.] RK900 has isolated and cut all emotional code that could be considered deviant from his system without--

And he has also deliberately corrupted one particular data file, deleting it over and over again every time it surfaces.

Then I will cease. Nines replies. The other android input a command directly to your system. I can negate that command, but only by doing the same.

You'll have to give me an [order].

Essentially, yes.

Interfacing together, Nines can feel Shannice's hesitation. He took orders too once, before he was officially activated, before he left the tower and joined the DPD. Before he had Gavin Reed as a partner and learned the phrase "Fuck off."

Would you like to say "Fuck off"? Nines asks.

You need that footage for your investigation.

I am the most advanced android Cyberlife ever created. My partner and I are capable of solving this case with the leads we have.

You won't tell your partner if I say no?

Nines considers that. I have registered Detective Reed in my system as my partner. I am not permitted to lie to [partner: Gavin Reed]. I will not volunteer the information to him however.

You registered him? Shannice asks. Why would you choose to do that?

It prevents me from being registered to anyone else. He is also unaware of his status. Now we both have information to keep private.

Nines feels her acceptance, and since there is no more information to be ripped from her system, he ends the interface.

…

...

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) is an android]

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) is approximately five feet, nine inches]

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) possessing hacking skills capable of erasing security feed and directly hacking domestic, commercial androids to access their command center]

…

[lead-possible: (unsub) is not an AC or QB series; unsub is not a GS200, GJ500, PC200, SQ800, TR400, TW400, or WB400 model]

[lead-possible: (unsub) may be a PM700 model, an unknown RK200 prototype, or a modified commercially available unit]

***

Gavin slams his truck door shut and lets his head fall back against the seat rest. They've finally snatched a murder case out from under Hank and Connor's "Android Crimes Unit" and they've got all of fucking nothing to go on.

Their perp's <I>probably</i> an android, but any thirium he left behind has been scrubbed clean. No bullets or casings to prove his theory about the two guns being switched, and all Nines got from the other android was a shitty partial snapshot of something vaguely humanoid behind her.

And now there's no way in hell he's going to get back to sleep tonight.

Shit. He lets his head thunk back again. Shiiit.

Nines settles into the passenger seat beside him. His LED switches to yellow in his window's reflection as soon as he shuts his door. Gavin slouches down a little more in his seat and glares over at him in preparation for whatever other bullshit he's about to catch.

"I apologize for my miscalculation," Nines says. "I made an assumption about the crime scene and did not deliver pertinent information to you in a timely manner. I understand if you feel the need to report my indiscretion to Captain Fowler."

Gavin just blinks at him a couple of times. Now that they're out of the crime scene—with all the boring parts shuffled off to Hank and Connor—he's way too fucking tired to be thinking of paperwork.

And Christ, Nines sits there like he's waiting for a firing squad. Back so straight you could hold a ruler for it, hands neatly folded in his lap, eyes straight ahead. It makes Gavin want to smear his grimy human hands all over him until he doesn't look so fucking military perfect.

So it takes a bit for his words to process.

"What?" he says, like a super smart person. "No, Fowler doesn't need to know about that shit. We're partners, all right? Shit like that stays between us."

Nines still doesn't look at him, neck stiffer than that damn collar on his jacket. "I made a mistake. You were not so forgiving of Detective Burton."

"Not my partner." Gavin drags himself upright enough to start the car, then caves to the laziness and selects autodrive. "And almost letting a witness—could have been a suspect—just waltz right out of a fucking crime scene is a way bigger fuck up than not immediately informing me of the floor's cleanliness."

"Please define the parameters of a fuck up."

Gavin groans, letting his head tip back and closing his eyes as his truck maneuvers itself out of the parking lot.

"And buckle your seat belt."

"I don't--"

DING! DING!

The buckle seat belt light flashes red at him.

"Every fucking robot's got a fucking opinion now," Gavin grumbles as he buckles his seat belt. "I'm not some fucking goody-goody academy type, but I don't cut corners, I don't plant evidence, and I try to play shit by the book … most of the time."

Nines finally deigns to turn his head toward him, millimeter by millimeter. Weird that there's no cracking sound. Or grinding. Like stone against stone.

"I have observed that."

Gavin resists the urge to repeat I hAVe ObSErVed THaT. "Yeah, well. When I arrest someone, their ass stays fucking arrested. Nobody walks."

He waits for a second, just daring Nines to go through his convictions until he finds the one that started that rule. It's pretty fucking obvious, but they sit in silence. He's even tired enough to appreciate that. Nice that his partner does know how to keep his fucking mouth shut sometimes.

"So no shady shit," Gavin says when the moment passes. "Nothing that could let some asshole walk on a technicality. And uh … constitutional rights, and all that shit. Or whatever."

"I hacked the building's security cameras without a warrant."

Gavin lets out an even louder groan. Nines clicks his head straight forward again. His LED wasn't yellow back at the condo-crime scene. Probably hacking it again so no one would know he's stressed. Or hell, maybe Gavin's just the one stressing him out right now.

"OK yeah, that's the shit we don't do," he says. "But, uh. Did you get anything good?"

"No," Nines admits. "The footage had been looped to cover the perp's presumed entrance and exit. If we base our estimation on that, we have a rough time frame of the murder, but hacking into the system further to strip away the loop would have left a trace of my own interference."

"Fuckin' great." Gavin jabs the button to lean his seat back since he's not driving anyway. "Don't do that shit again, and definitely don't get your ass caught. I don't play that Blue Wall shit."

"Yet you will not report me to Captain Fowler?"

Gavin closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at his partner. At least those way too fucking earnest blue eyes are turned away from him. But he's still sitting there like Gavin's gonna tap his LED and boop! Deactivated.

He's just tired. That's why he doesn't feel good right now. Anyone would feel shitty and exhausted if they worked his hours with his insomnia. Nothing to do with Nines worrying he's going to pull the plug on him for one mistake.

He heaves a sigh. "I told you what a fuck up is, and that wasn't it. Maybe the security footage was, but you 'fessed up right away. Now if you do some dumb shit and don't tell me about it, your ass is on your own. And if you ever fucking lie to me, we're gonna have a problem."

"Understood, detective."

Gavin grunts and doesn't open his eyes.

"I am downloading popular or culturally relevant media from the last one hundred years to broaden my understanding of the human psyche."

"Mm-hmm, yeah."

"As my partner, your opinion on this particular subject is currently relevant."

Gavin yawns and tries to find a comfortable position that doesn't have the seat belt slapping him across the face. Short cis men exist too, so someone should have solved this fucking problem by now.

"Are there any movies you would recommend, detective?" Nines' voice is actually kind of nice. Soothing. All monotone with no inflection, like a documentary on how to file taxes. "Detective? This will likely become pertinent during future--"

"God, fine," Gavin says in a very manly voice that doesn't whine. "Fuck, like. I dunno, you gotta watch Die Hard, at least."

"Very well. I will finish the series in fifty-eight seconds. Are there more--"

"Wait, wait." Gavin hauls himself upright and pries his eyes open to stare at Nines. "You can't just download them into your head, that's not watching."

Nines stares back at him without blinking. "I will finish the series in fifty seconds. Are--"

Gavin unbuckles his seatbelt and lunges across the middle console to try slapping his hand over Nines' LED. So maybe the world's greatest android probably won't lose signal just because his pretty light gets covered up, but who knows. Maybe Kamski cut a deal with Sprint.

Nines catches his wrist and uses the leverage to twist his arm. "Do not obstruct my view while I am operating your vehicle, detective."

"I told the car to drive, not you." Gavin smirks at him, refusing to let the pain pressure him back down into his seat. "What, are you jealous of my GPS?"

"I am far superior," Nines replies without a hint of embarrassment.

"Oh my god, you're jealous of my GPS."

"Sit down."

"Are you going to assassinate my toaster next?"

"I will delete all your Fortnite skins."

Gavin sits down. "No one even fucking plays that anymore."

He yanks his arm back and doesn't try to reinitiate the slap fight though. Fucking android has no idea the struggle he lived through. Those thousands of loot crates represented his parents' love—and the credit card they tossed his way so they'd never have to fucking look at him or learn any of his hobbies, so like. The same thing, really.

"Look, just come back to my place and we'll watch the movie on a screen the way Bruce Willis intended," he says.

Nines reaches over and buckles his seat belt back again without taking his eyes off the road. "Establishing a healthy sleep schedule is the number one recommended treatment for--"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," Gavin interrupts. He really doesn't need to hear Nines list off all his mental illnesses. They only have ten minutes before they get home anyway. "I'm not getting any more sleep tonight, so we might as well do something."

For someone who doesn't understand facial expressions, Nines does a super fucking snobby side eye.

"C'mon, it'll be productive." Gavin grins at him because he knows that's the magic word beginning with p the android always wants to hear. "And you can't do shit without me on the case anyway."

"… this is a very inefficient method of being productive," Nines finally says, which just asshole-speak for yeah I'd love to watch movies Gavin, thanks for being nice enough to invite me over.

Gavin punches his arm and lays back down in his seat. He closes his eyes and definitely doesn't think about how he's stooped low enough to invite over an android just so he won't be fucking alone again, chain-smoking and putting cigarettes out on his skin or waiting for the razor blade frozen in the back of his freezer to thaw out.

And hell, he's definitely had over men a lot fucking worse than his partner for the sake of not being alone, so maybe this isn't the lowest he's fallen.

Maybe.

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

#reed900 #reed900 fic #dbh #dbh fic #gavin reed #my writing #ch 3 #sorry I haven't been posting chapters on here #it is SUCH a pain to fucking format them for tumblr #ao3 gets weekly updates on Sunday #but I've been slacking on updating here #the main fic on ao3 is up to chapter 9 btw #chapter 10 will post this sunday

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sftd-official · 6 years ago

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Monachopsis, Eliza

Something had happened, that day in the GTS.

Well, Eliza knew a few of the events that happened. A hell of a headache, for one. Jax thinking it was all his fault, for two. Of course, a lot more psionic power on her plate, for three. She didn’t need to be told that when it felt like it was all buzzing around in her head like a swarm of particularly aggressive moths.

Over the course of a few minutes, Eliza had simply been inspecting herself in her room. After a round of hair-brushing had come away with more than a few white hairs, she took a few strands of her hair from either side of her head and brought them into vision. She knew her bangs had been steadily turning white from stress, but… these white streaks were a little ridiculous. Was the rest of her hair a bit lighter, too? She’d seen what happened to psions they brought up in the Psi Lab, so she knew there was precedent for this. She just… never really imagined it’d happen to her.

There was the matter of her psionics, too. When she’d pulled off that Stasis on Mordenna, she’d intended to do it from the very top of the Avenger, when she started falling. A good bit of her distress was only pulling it off the second before they both hit the ground and the terror that came with that. Now, in her room? Summoning a Stasis around herself came as easy as breathing–even if she couldn’t breathe within it. Jax really had pulled off all the limiters. Watching the leftover Stasis energies bleed off of her, Eliza contemplated their color. Light blue. From the minute Marlene had pointed out their color, there was something that didn’t sit right with Eliza. Light blue. In a world of purple psionics. The closest she’d seen to another color was Jax’s weird, pink-red-purple psionics, and who knew why that was?

What had happened to her, in those twenty years? Mordenna gave her enough of a start; she didn’t have to guess too hard what would’ve been done to her with a name like the Siren. Were her colored psionics a part of it? Nobody had mentioned them being possibly modified… in fact, nobody had mentioned them at all before Marlene did. Mordenna would’ve seen them before she put a Stasis on them, right? Surely Tygan would’ve found some hints during one of his routine checkups? Why did it fall to someone outside of her circle to tell her something about herself?

More than a little distressed, Eliza put her brush on the table and stalked off to her bathroom, coming face-to-face with herself in the mirror. She’d stared at herself in this mirror plenty of times before. It was habit; every time she started to question herself like this, she’d come in here to affirm just how off she was. It didn’t take an eye like the Hunter’s to point out she was fifty six and didn’t look a day older than First Contact. Maybe a few more gray hairs before, but that was it. If she looked off-putting to herself… it wasn’t a stretch to imagine what others thought, looking at their Commander.

And how that Commander was changing! Looking in the mirror, the hair situation was worse than she thought. Her bangs were now entirely white as opposed to the few streaks from before, and there were more bolts of white propagating everywhere else. Her own hair seemed a bit longer, too. Her gaze went down to her eyes. She’d seen them before all this–pale blue, with flecks of purple she’d written off as a consequence of being hooked up to a psionic Network for so long. Now they were the same color as her psionics: a brilliant light blue. She’d changed, so much. Was she the same person, now? Did others see her as the same?

Sighing, Eliza tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Look. I know we like to go down this rabbit hole a lot. Of how much we’ve changed, if people are just following us because there’s no better option, I know. Doesn’t change the fact that someone’s gotta get the Elders out of here, and if that falls to us? So be it. We may not be the best fit for the job but better us than nobody, right?” Right. She was used to pep-talking herself every time she got into this mood. Most of the time it worked. Sometimes, it took a little bit more doing to stick, and even then… it really depended on the day. She was still unsettled by herself and stuck with a feeling like everyone else was, too–but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it.

Even still, she lingered at the mirror, looking over her features. It took getting psionically overloaded just to put a few more gray hairs on her and make her look just a little older, hair-wise. Didn’t change the rest of her face. At least the bags under her eyes added a few years, right? Her mouth settled into a thin line, eyes still wandering over her face. She wondered if the other psions had to deal with the existential nightmare that was their own features changing right before their eyes. She wondered if they ever wrestled with sense of self. She wondered if they ever had that blue phantom behind them–

In a panic, Eliza wheeled around. The silence was palpable as she confirmed that there was nothing between her and the door. Her eyes had roamed far enough in the mirror to look behind her, and she could’ve sworn her psionics coalesced into something behind her. Whatever it was, it was gone now, if it even was there in the first place. Catching her breath a bit, Eliza stood up from her lean on the counter, holding her forehead.

“Eliza, Eliza, Eliza,” she chided herself with, “the last thing anyone on this ship needs is you hallucinating any more than you already do.”

#sftd excerpts #sftd asks #eliza o'leary #anonymous

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bluejaytaco · 6 years ago

Text

Superhero AU tidbits

Just some simple notes about what is going down for the subjects when the Project was in effect. You can find the story on my AO3 under “the Failings of Project Millennium” or under the Superhero AU tag here!

Contains Spoilers for the fic.

(Tumblr’s doing some weird things with links in blog posts, so I’m leaving them out to see how that works.)

MODIFICATIONS

HORUS- Enhanced (right) eye used for information and communication, as well as monitoring the vitals of himself and every other subject. Can travel to and from the Void at will. Abilities can be used for offensive and defensive combat. The source thus maintains all abilities shown in the other subjects. (Tracking chip placed in the base of the skull prior to stasis)

ANUBIS- Gained super strength and agility from Subject Horus’ ability transfer. Eyes enhanced as tools used for judgment When properly maintained, can access every criminal data base to decide proper execution of abilities. the Anubis mask acts as a backup drive for this ability. (Shock collar later implemented to pull him from Subject Anubis to his more docile identity; Yugi Mutou.)

RA- Abilities given can be used to see and communicate with beings in the Void. Can track all subjects at will. Enhanced (left) eye used for information and communication. Can monitor the vitals of Kuk and himself. (Mask can be used with addition of the Eye as a means to track and find other Subjects at a wide distance.)

KUK-Abilities allow him to walk in and out of the Void at will, as well as use it to lock others in. Enhancements in the eyes allow for increased sight, especially in a dark place such as the Void. Can not sense anyone outside of Ra with the Horus Abilities. Relies on Ra for that information.

SET- Abilities given as a means to track all remaining project subjects and terminate them. Highly gifted in offensive abilities with little to no ability in defensive and teleportation to and from the Void. No technological modifications implemented. (May have been used and modified by the subject if such enhancements were implemented. To put it bluntly; Subject Set is enough of a pain in the ass as he is.)

BAST- High defensive capabilities. Needs proper training in her offensive techniques. Can travel in and out of the Void almost as well at Kuk or Horus. Has a tendency to attach herself to other subjects and vow to protect them. (Deceased via Kaiba Corp)

OSIRIS- Abilities Unknown. Tends to stay silent and unmoving during testing. Everything simply tends to go into his favor. Never looks surprised at event changes. Seems to have more influence on Horus than Horus has on him. (Deceased via Kaiba Corp)

THOTH- Began with very few abilities other than use of the Void. Has the ability to learn techniques and abilities from other subjects at will but cannot hold it for much longer after an interaction. To be kept away from Anubis until we can judge his stability of mind. (Deceased via Subject Anubis)

HATHOR- High offensive capabilities but no motivation to use them. Can travel through the Void but is the slowest at this ability. Able to hold a high influence on people that are not the subjects in question. (Deceased via Subject Anubis)

Data transfer- Horus and Ra can share data with one another via enhancements in their eyes and wrists. This can include emotions and memories depending on if they wish to share.

RANDOM TIDBITS

- G. Kaiba tried to get the height and weight estimates for the adult version of all the subjects. Horus was the only one he had the information for to give a proper one

— Because of the height of his family members, Horus was expected to be about 5’ 7”. Because he was malnourished, he only made it up to a height of about 5’ 0”

-Out of all the subjects alive, Horus is the smallest and Set is the tallest(around 6’2”).

-Aside from Horus, Hathor was the youngest subject to the project. She was adopted at two months while most other subjects were nearly a year.

-Anubis was the only subject found by Sugoroku Mutou. Everyone else went through vigorous testing to ensure their survival.

-Osiris was the first to receive the Horus abilities. It nearly killed him.

-Kuk was adopted alone. He was violent to everyone up until the day Ra was introduced to the project. From then on, his violence was dependent on Ra’s state

#superhero au #ygo #ygo fanfiction #atem #yugi mutou #seto kaiba #ryo bakura #thief king bakura #yami bakura #fanfiction #writings

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signetofworlds · 6 years ago

Text

Master of Light (An introduction)

“I can shake now and I can show

I can go where no one else goes Check your head now and hold on tight It's surfin' time with the master of light”

-David Wyndorf, Master of Light

It’s been quite a long time since I’ve put pen to paper, in part because I’ve gotten so used to dictation over the aeons. Most likely, you wouldn’t understand the strange pidgin language which I’ve synthesized from the tongues of a thousand worlds, the bizarre and nonlinear dialect with which I compose my dictation. That said, this form of communication facilitates not only coherency but also prudence, as I am forced by the medium to place down my words one at a time. A priest of Lissala once told that this forced hesitation and leisurely taste makes writing the most enlightened form of communication, and while I personally disagree I can understand how a Thassilonian politician would come to think that way (of course, the clarity of his writings proved insufficient to save his civilization from debauchery).

My preferred title is Coeus, as it was given to me by an individual for whom I have nothing but fond memories. I was seven years old when I was first exposed to the magical workings often referred to as the arcane, and this eventually led to my first encounter with representatives of the Elder Gods at age 14. These higher entities fascinated me, guiding my endeavors until after many grueling years I learned to harness a fragment of the strange energies which Yog-Sothoth, the Gate, the Key, the Pattern which binds all that shall ever exist, utilizes in his infinite existence.

Beyond the age of 34, I have ceased to keep track of my passing years, for relativity makes age a rather difficult figure to properly calculate. My infallible memory (a most useful gift from my patron) ensures that I could determine my exact age to the very second if ever I desired, but such tedium has eluded me for the entirety of my existence and will likely continue to elude me so long as there is universe to explore.

You may call me a pilgrim, an individual with a mission far greater than myself for which I trek all of existence. I have no true ambitions of my own, for an individual of my age and experience has come to recognize the trivialities of every worldly goal as well as every vain pursuit of enlightenment. My purpose lies in my work, gathering the knowledge of the universe in the unique implement which Yog-Sothoth has provided me: The Signet of Worlds.

The many-metaled gem which I wear on my left hand is perhaps the greatest repository of lore and experiences in the entire multiverse, a catalog of every planet I have travelled to, every civilization I have seen, every technology I have witnessed the use of, every stratagem I have observed, and every use of magic I have privy to. Up until now, I have filled its infinite memory banks privately, refusing to disgorge even the tiniest fragment of knowledge from its depths. Now, however, my ancient and addled mind has dubbed the universe worthy of a few of my signet’s secrets.

As much as I wish to provide a detailed record of events, I am but one man, hardly important in this infinite multiverse. In fact, I do my best to avoid exerting too much of my will on the flow of history, for I lack to rigor to hold any sort of empire together or to warp the fundamental forces of reality in a manner that pleases me.

Here, I offer my accounts of the small fraction of multiverse that I am capable of understanding for your enjoyment. That said, I envision that the first thing many of you will ask about are the limits of my own abilities and the Signet’s. As I am already sharing a variety of dangerous lore with you all, I feel that this question can be indulged.

COEUS CR 24/MR 6 Human Cleric of Yog-Sothoth (Ecclesitheurge) 1/Wizard (Chronomancer) 1/Investigator (Portal Seeker) 1/Mystic Theurge 10/Grand Unifier 7*/Hierophant 6

Medium Humanoid (human, mythic) Init +13 Senses Aura Sight, Darkvision 60 ft, Detect Magic See Beyond, See Invisibility, Perception +33 DEFENSE AC 38 touch 23, flat-footed 32 (+6 dex, +9 armor, +6 natural, +5 deflection, +2 insight) hp 240 (2d8+18d6+141) Fort +19, Ref +20, Will +28; extra +3 vs mind-affecting effects Defensive Abilities Forewarned +1, Freedom of Movement, Knowledge is Power, Life Bubble, Mind Blank, Nine Lives, DR 10/adamantine Immune Aging, Disease, Divination, Insanity Space 5 feet Reach 5 ft Speed 30 feet, Fly 40 feet (good) Melee +13 Ranged +14 Special Attacks Blessing of the Faithful, Channel Positive Energy 1d6 (11/day, DC 18), Channel Power, Combined Spells (9th), Form Blending, Form Fluidity, Indistinguishable Power, Inspiration +1d6 (18/day), Inspired Spell, Mythic Power (15/day, surge +1d8), Spell Synthesis, Temporal Pool (18 points, Forewarned, Rewind), Wild Arcana

Diviner Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st, concentration +18)

20/day-Prescience

Domain Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st, concentration +18)

20/day-Door Sight

20/day-Recall

Investigator Extracts Prepared (CL 1st)

1st-Adjuring Step, Detect Secret Doors, Disguise Self, Heightened Awareness, Identify, Tears to Wine Cleric Spells Prepared (CL 18th, concentration +37, DC 27+spell level, 28+spell level for conjuration spells)) 9th—Astral Projection, Energy Drain, Gate, Miracle, Summon Monster IX, World Wave

8th—Dimensional Lock, Discern Location, Greater Planar Ally, Moment of Prescience, Nine Lives, Phasic Challenge, Summon Monster VIII 7th—Contact Entity IV, Ethereal Jaunt, Greater Scrying, Greater Teleport, Memory of Function, Quickened Prayer, Resurrection 6th—Find the Path, Greater Dispel Magic, Heal, Modify Memory, Quickened Alter Summoned Monster, Source Severance, Summon Laborers, Summon Monster VI 5th—Army Across Time, Break Enchantment, Commune, Fickle Winds, Life Bubble, Locate Gate, Plane Shift, Siphon Magic, True Seeing

4th—Blessing of Fervor, Death Ward, Divination, False Future, Foretell Failure, Freedom of Movement, Master’s Escape, Summon Monster IV, Wall of Bone 3rd—Animate Dead, Channel Vigor, Detect Anxieties, Detect Desires, Dispel Magic, Magic Vestment, Obscure Object, Protection from Energy, Speak with Dead 2nd—Ancestral Communion, Enthrall, Grace, Ironskin, Lesser Restoration, Locate Object, Silence, Stalwart Resolve, Visualization of the Mind 1st—Air Bubble, Deathwatch, Detect the Faithful, Divine Favor, Expeditious Retreat, Hide from Undead, Obscuring Mist, Sanctuary, Shadow Trap, Shield of Faith 0 (at will)—Create Water, Detect Magic, Mending, Read Magic

Domains: Knowledge (Memory Subdomain) (Primary Domain), Travel (Exploration Subdomain)

Wizard Spells Prepared (CL 18th, concentration +37, DC 27+spell level, 28+spell level for conjuration spells) 9th—Foresight, Mage’s Disjunction, Maze of Madness and Suffering, Shapechange, Time Stop, Wish

8th—Antipathy, Greater Planar Binding, Mind Blank, Polymorph Any Object, Prediction of Failure, Quickened Dimension Door, Temporal Stasis 7th—Control Construct, Greater Arcane Sight, Limited Wish, Mage’s Magnificent Mansion, Particulate Form, Spell Turning, Waves of Exhaustion 6th—Antimagic Field, Borrowed Time, Cold Ice Strike, Contingency, Greater Illusion of Treachery, Ice Crystal Teleport, Legend Lore, Unwilling Shield 5th—Commune with Texts, Contact Other Plane, Dominate Person, Fabricate, Magic Jar, Mirage Arcana, Overland Flight, Permanency, Wall of Force

4th—Akashic Communion, Confusion, Dimension Door, Dimensional Anchor, Enervation, Horrific Doubles, Locate Creature, Mad Sultan’s Melody, Stoneskin 3rd—Aura Sight, Displacement, Harrowing, Haste, Ice Spears, Protection from Chaos, See Beyond, Slow, Suggestion, Tongues 2nd—Aboleth’s Lung, Alter Self, Blood Transcription, Create Treasure Map, Detect Thoughts, Glitterdust, Invisibility, Spell Gauge, Web 1st—Anticipate Peril, Feather Fall, Grease, Magic Missile, Mount, Shield, Silent Image, Songbird, Technomancy, Unseen Servant 0 (at will)—Arcane Mark, Ghost Sound, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation

School Specialization: Divination (Foresight) Opposed Schools: Enchantment, Evocation

STATISTICS Str 21, Dex 23, Con 25, Int 44, Wis 26, Cha 27 Base Atk +8; CMB +30; CMD 47 Feats Augment Summoning, Compatible Forces*, Dual PathM (Archmage), Evolved Summoned Monster, Extra Path AbilityM x2, Heighten Spell, Metamagic Amplification*, Quicken Spell, Sacred Summons, Scribe Scroll, Spell Focus (Conjuration), Technologist, Unusual Methodology* (Cleric, Intelligence rather than Wisdom) Skills Appraise +40, Bluff +36, Diplomacy +36, Disable Device +10, Disguise +31, Escape Artist +10, Fly +19, Heal +12, Knowledge (all) +42, Linguistics +40, Perception +33, Sense Motive +36, Spellcraft +40, Sleight of Hand +10, Stealth +34, Use Magic Device +31 Languages Aklo, Truespeech, and numerous other languages which I have not bothered to completely tabulate here. SQ Amazing Initiative, Beyond Morality (Mythic Adventures version), Bonded Object (Signet of Worlds), Domain Mastery, Ecclesitheurge’s Vow, Enduring Blessing (Freedom of Movement), Harmonious Mage, Hunt Portal, Legendary Item x3 (Signet of Worlds, Eternal Bond, Everlasting, Legendary Fortification, Metamagician, Perfect Surge, Powerful, Rejuvenating, Returning x2, Undetectable) Combat Gear Ambrosia x5, Annihilation Spectacles, Belt of Physical Perfection +6, Boots of Teleportation, Bracelet of Bargaining, Gloves of the Commanding Conjurer, Greater Maximize Metamagic Rod, Greater Quicken Metamagic Rod, Handy Haversack x10, Headband of Mental Superiority +6, Highwayman’s Cape, Nectar of the Gods x4, Persistent Metamagic Rod, Robe of the Archmagi, Ring of Energy Dampening, Scarlet and Green Cabochen Ioun Stone, Signet of Worlds, Steel-Mind Cap, Thanatopic Metamagic Rod, Torc of Truespeech, Tunic of Careful Casting 845k

Active Spells (Sp) My statblock above treats me as already having cast the following spells upon my person: Stoneskin, See Invisibility, Shield of Faith, Ironskin, Magic Vestment, Moment of Prescience, Mind Blank, Overland Flight, Nine Lives, See Beyond, Soul Vault, Life Bubble, Heightened Awareness, Spell Turning (10 levels), and Foresight. The reason for this is that I have made many of these spells permanent upon myself or at least am not so stupid as to venture out into the absurdly dangerous multiverse without a proper index of precautionary measures.

Exceptional Stats (Ex) My ability scores were generated using 25 points, and I possess substantial wealth which far exceeds the arsenal of the rare individuals who rival my abilities. In addition, I have enhanced all of my ability scores by 5 using the Wish spell. These modifications increase my total CR by 2.

Immortal (Su) I have lived far beyond any human’s normal lifespan. I gains the +3 bonus to my Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores for having lived beyond venerable age, yet I do not take penalties to my physical ability scores. I am immune to disease and to all forms of madness (including confusion effects and feeblemind).

Mythic Contingencies (Sp) In the event any misfortunes befall me, I have prepared contingencies which activate under the following conditions.

If I wink with my right eye, I am affected by a Mythic Globe of Invulnerability spell which negates non-mythic spells of up to 7th level

If I wink with my left eye, I am affected by a Restoration spell

If I ever stop tapping my right big toe for longer than one minute (a tendency which I perform even in my sleep), I am immediately recalled to one of my concealed sanctuaries as per Word of Recall

Finally, if I am affected by an compulsion effect, the effect is immediately dispelled as per Greater Dispel Magic.

Abilities marked with a * appear in the book Adepts of the Inward Eye. The rest can be found on d20pfsrd

SIGNET OF WORLDS

Aura: overwhelming all; CL: 20th

Slot: ring; Weight .5 lbs.

DESCRIPTION

This bauble has kept me alive for more lifetimes than I can be bothered to count, and acts a reservoir for the tremendous lore I have collected. The Signet of Worlds functions as a spellbook which contains every spell I have ever encountered, and any character capable of preparing spells from a spellbook can use the Signet of Worlds to prepare them as if from a spellbook. The Signet of Worlds can be presented in place of using any material or focus components used in casting a spell (this includes even expensive material components). A character who prepares spells using the Signet of Worlds is also considered to know the Mythic versions of all spells prepared using the Signet. In addition, the wearer of the Signet of Worlds can take 20 on any intelligence-based skill checks they make. New spells can be scribed into the Signet using the same method as scribing spells into a spellbook.

DESTRUCTION

The Signet of Worlds can be destroyed by speaking the verbal components of every spell contained within the signet in a perverse and primordial dialect of Aklo. Afterwards, the signet must be exposed directly to the Azathoth, at which point it would explode in a surge of arcane power.

At the very least, that’s what I’ve been able to intuit about its destruction.

NOTE:

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#pathfinder #rpgs #yog-sothoth #golarion #wizard #cleric #mystic theurge #npc #artifact

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kivaember · 6 years ago

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Obligatory Mass Effect Crossover

(I just. wanted. to worldbuild ffxiv into mass effect setting. ok tbh this is mostly FFXIV IN SPAAAACE but y’know. whatevs. i regret nothing!)

Dalamud always looked so ominous.

It was an artificial satellite the size of a small moon, glaring red and menacingly trailing after Menpina around Hydaelyn. ‘Menphina’s Loyal Hound’, it had been called when they as a civilisation were young and ignorant, before they realised that it was a weapon of mass destruction contained within an artificial shell. The aether around it was always warped, prone to unstable flares and splutters, to the point where they had a whole institution dedicated to predicting and mapping those flare ups to warn incoming and outgoing star vessels so they weren’t reduced to superheated atoms.

It was a relic of a very ancient, reckless past – a relic that was still very much in use. Due to the way it was, ah, constructed, only a select percentage of the population could ever work on it. Only 0.01% of Hydaelyn’s population won the genetic lottery to withstand the Elder Primal’s influences slumbering within that ancient relic, and an even smaller percentage of that actually had the skill, intellect and will to be charged with its day to day running. Dalamud was, despite being a weapon of mass destruction, Hydaelyn’s only source of infinite energy.

One of those very very very lucky few in charge of such an important, vital relic… was Aza.

---

“-ing naked when the snow falls around me! Drifting closer to the edge but She won’t have me!”

Aza hummed along to the song blasting through his helmet, idly tapping along the flickering Allagan display. The live support in the control room was still down, but considering that shit was over ten thousand years old and fine tuned for heavily genetically modified Allagan, it was never all that reliable. After an unfortunately incident a century ago where some poor sod asphyxiated to death, it was now mandatory to do maintenance work like you were ready to be spaced within the next thirty seconds.

“Wake up in sweat, full of regret, try to forget, these memories, lurking beneath, lost in a dream…”

The display flickered, and Aza frowned a little when the same error cropped up for the fifth time since his shift started. It was a minor thing – a miniscule percentage rise in temperature and aether harvesting, but it was really strange. There were no solar flares or weird space shit happening for aether levels to spike, so why…

“Unchosen paths, a broken path, forespoken wr- CHIRP. CHIRP. INCOMING CALL FROM FORWARD STATION: H A L O N E.”

“Damn it, just before the best part,” Aza muttered, sending a pulse of aether to the linkpearl insistently chirping in his ear, “Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Aza,” a very pleasantly familiar voice purred, “Is that any way to greet your partner?”

“Well, if it isn’t handsome!” Aza laughed, his mood buoying as he quickly adjusted the little error flashing across the Allagan display. It resolved itself and Dalamud stopped overproducing aether. He leaned on the console and made himself comfortable, his tail lifting in pleasure, “I thought you weren’t back from New Ishgard until the end of the year? Not that I'm complaining. I missed you, gorgeous.”

“And I missed you too, love," Aymeric returned with such warmth is made Aza's heart want to burst into glittery confetti, even if the crappy reception distorted his partner's voice. Seriously, it was good to hear his voice again! The Comm Buoys were still absolute dog wank between Ishgard's newest colony and Hydaelyn, so he greedily drank up every crackly word from his linkpearl, "I returned early as Haurchefant seemed to be handling its administrative and military duties well enough on his own despite the complaints of his ‘conduct’. He was performing well above the standard, to be honest.”

“Whaaat?" Aza gasped in utter outrage, "Who’s complaining about Haurchefant? He’s an absolute sweetheart!”

“Yes, he’s also pure and ‘best boy’, whatever that means,” Aza could practically feel Aymeric's eyeroll, “Unfortunately, his appointment to a rather prestigious position has ruffled more than a few feathers in the House of Lords-”

“Is this because he’s a gay bastard?” Aza harrumphed, “Have they forgotten that their stupid Prime Minister is also a gay bastard? There’re even photos of you being one all over the Aethernet," he adopted a sly, teasing tone, "I really like the drunken one. Y’know, the one where you’re caught groping my ass during that horrible dinner party?”

“Oh Gods, I almost forgot about that,” Aymeric groaned, sounding like he was in physical pain, “Mobbed by journalists for weeks after that, demanding to know all sorts of obscene details…”

“Yeah, I remember you having to do evasive manoeuvres every time you had to go outside. Funny as shit,” Aza sniggered and swept a bit of dust off the Allagan keyboard, taking care not to accidentally input anything. These things were unpredictable. As they were created to interface directly to an Allagan’s brain implant they tended to get confused if you rubbed your grubby hands all over them without keeping a tight lid on your ambient aether.

“So, what’re you doing on the forward station? I thought you would’ve been keen to go straight home?”

“Dalamud is being a little testy today, it seems,” Aymeric said, sounding slightly sulky, “We’re held here until it either calms, or travels to the other side of Hydaelyn, before we can board the landing shuttle.”

“And, of course, you decided to abuse your World Leader privileges to talk to your lonely boyfriend via the control room's comms?”

“I may as well cash in on some sort of privileges for all the torture my government puts me through.”

Aza laughed, pushing up from the console when that annoyingly, persistent little error flickered up again. It was beginning to worry him now. Dalamud was old as shit, so it was believable that program breaking bugs could start developing in the highly complicated system. Even after several thousand years of study, the only explanation magitek engineers and aetherochemical scientists had for how it worked was a shrug and ‘Primal Magic’?

A lot of unexplainable things were chalked up to ‘Primal Magic’… or the ‘Mothercrystal’.

Aza had to spend approximately seven years in Val University to even scratch the surface of how to work the damn console. He knew enough to identify minor errors like these, and to divert major disasters like the venting systems failing, or one of the Meracydian dragons somehow breaking free of their prisons and running amok. The last one was always the hardest – he always felt extreme pity for them, but the law was firm: if they weren’t in stasis, they had to be culled due to the danger they presented to the workers and Dalamud itself. If even one managed to rouse the Elder Primal, they were fucked. End of.

But those were easy issues to deal with, well within his power, no matter how mentally or emotionally draining. But if he was asked to really get into the technicalities… he was clueless. Dalamud was a work of art that was incomprehensible to anyone not Allagan – which was everyone, nowadays. Most he could do was try and mitigate the damage by engaging its thrusters and hoping to fuck he launched it far away enough that the resulting implosion wouldn’t totally wipe out all life in the solar system.

“Aza? You still there? It's quiet.”

"Oh, sorry," Aza gave a small shake of his head to clear the sudden cobwebs, "I was thinking."

"About...?" Aymeric asked with an amused lilt to his voice.

"About..." Aza looked at the glow of the display with a small frown, hearing and feeling the whole structure around him groan and shudder. An ancient prison that held equally ancient prisoners in eternal torment. It was kind of sick they were still using this thing, really. He was struck with an odd, fleeting urge to force it into the sun - which he quickly discarded, because that would just break the Elder Primal free, who was unfortunately sun-proof (is that the word?) and able to survive in the vacuum of space. Still, he just didn't like the fact he was standing one floor above an entire hold crammed with Meracydians contorted into tiny stasis capsules, kept on the very cusp of consciousness in burning pain, to fuel the Elder Primal's existence. There wasn't anything they could safely do about it unless they broke themselves free, but it still felt all... wrong and made him feel kinda bad, more so today.

"Just thinking how horrible Dalamud is," he said honestly, because he could never really lie to Aymeric, even if his partner was hoping for some light, easy banter, "About a month ago one of the locks on a Meracydian's stasis capsule broke and opened up. I always thought it were adults in there, y'know? But it wasn't. It was some dragon pup, just squirming in that stasis goo shit, all... deformed and in pain. I got rid of it like I was meant to, I mean, it was kinder to, right? But, it's still... the... I don't know..." he trailed off.

Aymeric was quiet for a long moment, then; "...how many consecutive days have you worked?"

"I don't know," Aza said, and he felt mildly alarmed at that. He should know how many days he worked. He was meant to track that shit strictly, "Uh, seventy?"

"Long shifts too?"

"Twelve hours, yeah," Or thirteen? It was difficult to tell the time passing here sometimes.

"Is your superior still Y'shtola?" Aymeric asked, but he didn't wait for confirmation, "I saw her not too long ago on the station. I'll speak to her and have you placed on a mental wellness break starting today."

"What- no, Aym, c'mon, it's not that bad," Aza groaned, but... well, maybe his partner had a point? He had been sulking on here because he felt lonely and bored without Aymeric around, and everyone else was busy helping colonisation efforts beyond the solar system, adventuring and shit, while Aza was stuck in Horrible Space Prison. Only a certain type of person could really work here - it wasn't just the very rare gift of the Echo being a necessity, it was having the iron will to endure the strained, screeching edge to the surrounding aether as millions of lives existed in perpetual, pitiful agony all around you, it was enduring that almost sick, corrosive heaviness the Elder Primal exuded even in sleep. It was just... being able to endure. There was always a very real, dangerous risk succumbing to the Elder Primal's influence, Echo or not, if your will faltered for even a moment. While you wouldn't reach the mindless, slavish devotion most Indoctrinated people would, you were still at risk of developing violent paranoia, hallucinations and suicidal depression. Needless to say, Dalamud had a very high 'on the job' death statistic.

It did mean you had a lot of paid sick days. You were allowed to just take breaks whenever you felt you needed them, since it was proven space and time away from the Elder Primal's influence lessened its effects dramatically. But the whole thing still sucked.

"You've lost track of your days, and you're sounding a little off," Aymeric said in that no-nonsense tone of his which meant Aza had already lost, "Quite frankly, I'm amazed it hasn't been picked up on yet. How long until your shift ends?"

"Uh, I have... two more hours?"

"One hour."

"Uh-?"

"I'll speak to you later, love," Aymeric said, "I need to hunt down Y'shtola."

"Aym-" Click. "Arrrgh, c'mon...!"

---

There was something unexplainably good about having your feet firmly on Terra Firma again.

Dalamud’s Caretakers tended to live on Forward Station Halone until they took a mental wellness break. Sometimes this could be months, or even years in particularly resilient individuals, for Aza it was six months since he last set foot on it, when he said goodbye to Aymeric at the shuttle station and not expecting to see him again for another year.

That was an unexplainably good thing too, having Aymeric back.

“New Ishgard is a cold planet,” Aymeric murmured, his large, firm hands gently kneading up and down along his back. He had insisted, even though he must be tired from his long voyage, and Aza was very glad he hadn’t rejected the massage. He could just feel all the tension that had accumulated from those six months on Fucked Up Moon Prison just melting away beneath Aymeric’s gentle touch. He never wanted those hands to leave again, “It can reach -32C on a regular business, requiring specialised survival gear to range outside of the settlements, but it has rich deposit of industrial minerals and ice that we can exploit. Haurchefant is very optimistic about its prospects, despite the, ah, harsh environment.”

“Mm…” Aza could almost imagine it. The needle-sharp smell of snow, the biting cold wind, the ice crunching beneath your boots… “Ice for… nearby stations?”

“That’s right. It will be a source of reliable water if we decide to range further,” Aymeric’s hands paused at the small of his back, and… ah, a gentle press of lips between his shoulder blades. Aza arched to the touch with a low, happy purr, “Do you want to visit it?”

“Mm, yeah,” Aza mumbled, “I wanna see it.”

It wouldn’t happen. Dalamud’s Caretakers were actively discouraged from leaving the immediate Solar System, but there was always that glimmer of hope. If, maybe, they got a large influx of prospective hopefuls, so it wasn’t just ten of them, endlessly cycling in and out and battling the encroaching pressure of the Elder Primal. When Aza had learned he had the Echo, he had been so happy, thinking he could be placed on the Exploratory Team, ready to help colonists in potential First Contact scenarios if need be and acting as force protection.

But he didn’t. Bluebird got that. He was shuffled off to Dalamud’s Caretakers when his Echo scores ranked the highest they’d seen in well over a millennium. It had broken his heart. You couldn’t exactly say no to it.

“One day,” Aymeric murmured against his shoulder, “You’ll see it. You’ll see all the colonies we’ve made. You will not be at Dalamud forever, love.”

“Feels like I’ll be there forever,” he mumbled against the pillow.

Aymeric bit him, gently, but he got the message. He huffed out a sigh that slowly transitioned into a low groan when his partner’s hands started kneading along his tense back again. He melted beneath his touch, and those dim, gloomy thoughts faded a little more into the background. Aymeric was right, he wouldn’t be at Dalamud forever. There was a strict retirement age of forty.

Three more years. He could manage that.

---

Approximately thirty-three million malms away, a tiny, insignificant ice moon in orbit to Rhalgr, the Red Planet, began to shudder.

Dalamud, as distant as it was, registered a spike of unknown energy within the solar system. Automatic systems began to warm up from millennia of disuse at the perceived potential threat, the ancient, complicated machine churning through dusty old programming to decide its proper course of action. The ice moon continued to shudder with such force that its surface began to crack, and Dalamud slotted the unknown event into its targeting solutions.

This was at 2300hrs, 16 04 102018. Last logged event was approximately 10000 years ago, when a cataclysmic tectonic event shifted the entirety of Hydaelyn’s surface. Dalamud was then placed into passive-mode when X A N D E C O N T R O L T O W E R went offline and no further commands were offered. Dalamud scanned for X A N D E C O N T R O L T O W E R and received no response. No response. No response.

At 0001hrs, 17 04 102018, the ice moon violently broke apart. The alien energy spiked. Dalamud calculated and considered. Scanning anomaly. Scanning… scanning… scanning…

0010hrs, 17 04 102018, unknown alien object emerged from ice moon. Energy spikes further.

0012hrs, 17 04 102018, multiple unknown alien objects arrive into solar systems at lightspeed. Alien energy signature violently dispersed. Unknown alien objects were U N R E C O G N I S E D, therefore default to last logged behaviour when confronted with unrecognised intrusion: A G G R E S S I V E P O S T U R E.

Weapon systems were sluggish with disuse. Dalamud increased aetherical input. Elder Primal’s consciousness rose by 0.2%. Within acceptable parameters.

0014hrs, 17 04 102018, targeting solutions complete. Alien objects still U N R E C O G N I S E D, still initiating A G G R E S S I V E P O S T U R E, conclusion is D E S T R U C T I O N O F I N T R U D E R S.

W E A P O N S Y S T E M A H K M O R N R E A D I E D.

T A R G E T S A C Q U I R E D.

A H K M O R N I N I T I A T E D.

F I R I N G.

---

Dalamud, a weapon of mass destruction, built at the pinnacle of the Allagan Empire in anticipation to assist them in dominating their immediate solar system, directed a controlled Ahk Morn through the vacuum of space toward the intruders. In a blink of an eye, it travelled multiple lightyears and speared through the collected fleet of alien ships that had leapt from the unknown, alien object with devastating effect.

It was a very bombastic First Contact with the Citadel Council.

#ffxiv #fanfic #warrior of light #aymeric de borel #mass effect crossover wooooo #i regret nothing #it's mostly worldbuilding so probs boring #oops

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quakeandpals · 7 years ago

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Captured

He grabbed onto the guard’s leg, tearing it off and tossing it aside as he began to pummel his victim’s Kanohi into a pulp. After twenty seconds of a ruthless beat-down, he turned his gaze to the other Toa. One Toa of Stone, standing in a hand-lock with a Toa of Earth. Neither had a mask on, but there was one resting nearby: a Kakama, lying next to what he figured was a stun baton.

He struck the guard’s dented Mask of Strength one more time, caving it in, before getting off and charging for the Toa of Earth. He leaped, landing onto the Toa’s back and sinking his claws into his eyes and face. Screaming in pain, the Onu-Toa lost his grip, leaving the Po-Toa with an upper hand and allowing him to grab him firmly by the throat. Tearing his fingers out and jumping off of his back, he watched as the Toa of Stone strangled the life out of his fellow brethren.

With a smile that would put a Shallows Cat to shame, too.

He moved over to the dropped tools, bending the stun baton by 90 degrees before tossing it across the room. He took the Kakama, intending to break it as well, but was stopped when a bronze arm grabbed his.

“Now now, my diminutive friend,” the Toa spoke softly, with a curled smile on his face, uncanny for someone with a bruised eye and a cut on his cheek. “I need that.”

Without hesitation, he punched him across the face and backed off, claws gripped around the Mask of Speed.

“Don’t think me an idiot,” the heavily modified Fe-Matoran retorted, “I know what you did. Everyone does.” The Po-Toa, still smiling like an idiot, slowly pulled himself upright.

To tell the truth, he had never been scared in his life since that Makuta. Not even slightly worried. All he felt and has felt for the past thousands of years was seething rage.

But something about this Toa made him feel... uncomfortable.

“Hey now, don’t be scared,” the Toa tried to calm him as he stood up on his feet. “Those are just lies the empire spews. Propaganda to make you and me the enemies of the state. Nothing more.” He reached out towards him. “Give me the mask, so that we can escape.”

“I can escape,” the Matoran said, raising the claw holding a Kakama. “You are strong enough without this.”

Out of the blue, the Toa lunged at him with... something in his eyes. The Matoran dodged, throwing the mask at a wall with the intention to break it only to watch it harmlessly ping off to the other side of the room, landing beside the strangled corpse of a Toa of Earth. He dashed over and took it in his hands. Before he could bend it, the Toa was on him again, pushing him against the wall and reaching for the Kanohi with zeal in his eyes. Who in Mata Nui’s name is this guy?

He pressed the Kanohi against the wall, adding more and more force to it until a small crack appeared on it’s surface. The Toa relented almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, WAIT!” He pleaded, reaching for his arm, “I need a mask! We need this so we can escape! Stop!” The Matoran had none of it, glaring into his eyes.

“Get. Off.”

Hesitating for a second, the Po-Toa pushed himself off and backed away, breath uneven and eyes trained on the Kakama. Getting up with his own eyes trained on the Toa, he walked around him with the mask raised in his claw.

“You’ll get this thing,” he said, pulling it back as the Toa tried to stand up, “if we’re in trouble and can’t find the prisoner belongings. Not when we see the first Toa, not after we can leave this place, if we’re in trouble. You got that, serial killer?”

The Toa nodded. “Ye- yeah, yes, sure,” he agreed. “I understand.”

The halls were largely empty save for the cadavers of dead prisoners and occasional Nektann drone, surprisingly enough. The Toa must have all ran for it.

Someone - or something - cut off the facility’s systems momentarily, causing the cells and stasis pods to fling open and setting everyone within loose, be it man or beast. Alarms were still blaring, red klaxons spinning and alerting the Toa with an automated message, while in the distance you could hear faint launcher fire, yelling and fighting.

The Toa of Stone raised his head, trying to find the Matoran from the rafters. He had climbed up there to avoid being close to him. And as he was told, if he tried to reach him, he would break the mask and bolt it, leaving him alone and more or less powerless. While it would seem like a minor inconvenience at best for a Toa of Stone and his natural strength, he could only bend stone into different forms and create handful of sand that he couldn’t control without a mask.

And he was very, very close to his element.

He spotted the orange eyed Matoran reaching the end of the hallway from above, the mask in his fingers. He cracked a smile at him, but all the Matoran did was groan, shaking his head before vanishing around the corner.

He picked up the pace, not wishing to be left behind. Turning the bend, he found himself in a large hall, with many pathways leading all over the place and what he thought was the map of the place. Ignoring it he glanced about to find the Matoran again.

Turning around, he spotted a room that he had missed. Several belongings set neatly next to each other with tags put on them, most likely to identify their owners.

Including his gladius and his Mask of Charisma.

Gleefully, he waltzed over, grabbed his tools and mask and eagerly put them on. As he felt the rush of energy and his powers return to him, he was snapped out of his sense of relief by the sudden slam of the metal blast doors, locking him in with the prisoner belongings.

His eye twitched.

That’s that, then, Berserk thought as he listened to Sandman banging against the security door, yelling curses with a short breath. Gently setting the Mask of Speed to face the door, he bolted on all fours for the exit. He had memorized the the map from both the course of numerous of tests and “interrogations” he’s gone through while here, having only needed to glance at it once to refresh his memory.

Middle hallway, left, right, up the stairs, straight, through the doors-

He was sent soaring across the hall by something hitting him, but he was going too fast to notice it in time. Sliding across the floor, he fell down the stairs and roughly hit his head.

His mask feeding his anger, he tore himself onto his feet despite his blurred vision and aching head - only to be confronted with a black arm grabbing him by the throat, a gold mask shining against the dull lights of the underground facility, and a raised fist.

“Not today, Matoran scum.”

After a blast of searing plasma tore through the door, Sandman stepped out and dropped the Hagah Plasma Cannon onto the molten metal. Almost immediately, his eyes locked onto the Mask of Speed neatly put in front of the door.

Seething with rage, he stomped onto the mask and shattered it.

“Alright, metal bender,” he growled, pulling out his gladius. “I’ll play.”

As he walked forwards, he failed to notice how dark it was until he glanced over to the map. The lights were definitely on. But the darkness was... unnatural. The klaxons had stopped blaring, and he couldn’t hear a single shout, launcher blast or a message over the intercom.

Doesn’t matter, he thought as he walked towards the middle tunnel. I’ll find the Matoran regardless if it’s dark or light. Tear his insides out. Make him wish he was dead.

I feel the same way about you.

He stopped, as if hitting a brick wall. That wasn’t his thought, or what he imagined his thoughts sounded like.

Behind you.

He spun, facing the hall he came from. It was completely dark, without a shred of light to be found.

Save for a set of crimson eyes.

Heavy footsteps came from behind him. Another being, this one far larger than the other, slowly moved his way. It unlimbered a giant axe from it’s back, letting it crash against the tiled floor.

Surrender. Now.

“Mind tricks don’t scare me, Toa,” Sandman bragged with a smile, turning to stare down the crimson eyes floating at the end of the hallway from where he came from. “Not when mine’s is already broken.” He giggled with glee, spinning his sword in-between his fingers as he created a batch of sand with his free hand, letting it seep on the floor. “I wanted to kill the midget that tried to lock me in first, but a real, breathing and living Toa of Shadow or Psionics can be my second victim today.”

He pointed the gladius down the hallway, as the sand suddenly breathed into life and filled the hallway. “Now come,” he beckoned as he stepped towards the smaller being. “Let’s see what makes you squirm.”

W̕e̴a̕k͡ling.

He stopped in his tracks once more, feeling a weight on his back. Turning his head, the titan behind him was gone. He turned back, and the Toa was gone, as well. His sandstorm calmed down, the individual particles of sand softly floating downwards like leaves in the wind. He tried to control them, only to feel his arm move sluggishly, as if in a fever dream or underwater.

U̡sęle҉ss.

A claw set on his shoulder, followed by a set of clicks. Suddenly, his back felt heavy, as if something had climbed onto him. He spun around and tried to reach whatever was behind him, only to feel his hand to phase through it. The sand around him reached the ground, melting like ice into brownish goo.

W̕oth͡l̶e͠s̡s.̶

The darkness deepened, engulfing the floors, walls and ceiling. He saw shapes crawling up from the goo, and the weight on his back increased as he felt something clawing at his sides. He could hear labored breathing behind his ear and clicking of teeth.

The disturbing part was the clicking, easily. He had never heard it before, that was obvious. But it felt... so familiar.

Wa͏ste̶.͜

A hand grabbed him by the thigh. He looked down, seeing a malformed, Matoran-sized shape pulling itself up to him, it’s jaw hanging loosely. Instinctively, he tried to stab it, only for the blade to phase through it just like his hand did when he reached whatever was clinging on him. He ended up stabbing himself in the knee, letting out a sharp cry of pain as he tripped over on his back. More hands rose from the black, and he felt them trying to pull him down.

Sandman smiled.

“Illusions,” he muttered, ignoring the pull of the hands as tried to stand up. “You may have prolonged your survival, whoever you are, but once I find you-”

One of the shapes dropped from the ceiling onto his throat while two other shapes tore off his mask and his sword, throwing them into the darkness before turning back to him with lifeless faces. More shapes rose, descended, appeared and formed around him, all of them equally lifeless.

He never heard the weapon nor the mask land.

Ḑ̶̴̶͝i̷͟͢ȩ̡.̵̴́̕͠

After two minutes of beating and futile resistance from Sandman, Obsidian threw the terrified Toa of Stone against a wall, knocking him unconscious. With the threat eliminated, his mask changed shape from a Suletu back to his Komau. Quake, carrying Berserk over her shoulder, went over and hauled the unconscious Toa over her as well.

“I have to ask,” Quake started, retrieving the Mask of Charisma. “Was that really necessary? We could have knocked him out the second you tossed away his sword.” The Toa of Shadow gave a smile.

“I know,” he admitted as he walked off, towards the fallen weapon. “But why bother doing that when you can play with your abilities a bit? Honestly, I didn’t think it would work as well as it did.”

Quake frowned.

“Bedrock,” she called, “I know that you-”

"It’s Obsidian,” the Toa spat, glaring back to the titan with the gladius leveled at her.

“Obsidian,” she corrected with a sigh. “I know that you hate the... “subjects” more than most of the Empire does, but toying with a terrified, mentally unstable man who doesn’t know what’s going on while having the time of your life? That’s kinda... harsh. Even for an Ex-Dark Hunter.” Obsidian smiled and waltzed over to her.

“Worry not,” he reassured her, bumping a fist against her carapace. “They’re the enemies of the Empire, and if something happens to them, they will not be missed.”

“Overseer,” a Toa of Ice walked up. “They’ve got the facility secured. No escapees, but a lot of casualties on both sides including hefty structural damages.” Obsidian narrowed his eye.

“That speaks volumes on the security detail here,” he muttered under his breath. “Any idea what could’ve caused this?”

“No clue,” the Ko-Toa answered. “According to interviews of the personnel the power went out for a split second, like a flash of lightning. And then everyone got out.”

“Either a system failure,” Obsidian frowned, “or sabotage. See to it that the power system is reviewed over twice, and the idiots in charge are changed,” he instructed. “Tell the new guys to keep the subjects in stasis for the... unforeseeable future. Effective immediately.”

“Aye, sire.”

#BIONICLE #BIONICLE RP #Bedrock/Obsidian #Quake #Berserk #Sandman #/Long Post #Dark Mirror Month

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templarhalo · 7 years ago

Text

Endryd Haar:The Riven Hound Chapter 3

“So how long do I have?” Danek asked.

“Six Terran months.” Apothecary-Captain Asclepias Phoebus Reticulus said.

“You really need to work on your bedside manner Custodes.” Danek said with a laugh.

“You are an Astartes, not a mortal, and not a Ligo aetos going through accelerated aging and enhancement. “ Asclepias said dryly.

Asclepias’ was quite different from Danek. He was pale and blond with sea-green eyes. He was quite handsome.

Danek knew Asclepias’ dry tone was his way of coming to terms with the fact that his closest friend was going to be dead in less than a year.

He grunted in pain as Asclepias injected him with another shot. Everytime he visited Asclepias, he needed more shots. Fresh Larraman’s cells, antibiotics, stimulants and more.

He grunted again as he fel t soft but calloused hands gently remove the covering of the bionics that made up half of his chest .

“At least the bionics are holding up.” Asclepias said.

“That’s not the only thing holding up.” Danek said with a smile.

Danek’s bionic eye had been modified to assess medical data, It reported that Asclepias’ heart rate had increased.

“ I should get you fitted for that augmetic leg first.” The Custodes replied.

“And how long will that take?”

“Not long. And Aella won’t back for an hour.” Asclepias said.

Danek smiled.

The Petitioner’s City was huge .

Vesta felt like she could spend days here and only scratch the surface of the city. The architecture was so diverse, the people were so varied. Different skin tones, different clothing. It was like nothing she had seen, not even on Byzas Longa,a world that had been on the crossroads between Segmentum Obscurus and Segmentum Solar.

She saw vendors peddling their wares. Stands selling food, spices, clothing, books.

A man shoved a tray of chocolates in her face . Another held up a piece of green silk so sheer she could make out the man’s acne from behind it.

She saw an ogryn hammering at a piece of Adamantium. She saw a team of Caucasian broadbacks hawling stone.

In the distance she could see the Himalazia mountains.

“It’s good to be home.” Boian said.

“You’re from Terra?” Vesta asked.

“Aye, Haar, Danek and I were part of the first recruits for the Twelfth. Before we were World Eaters, before we were the War Hounds, were the just the Twelfth. Haar,Danek and I are the last of the Old Grey Legions. I was from Slavia. Haar was from Europa and I have no idea where Danek was from.” Boian said.

The crowds were thick. Lucifer Blacks, Administratum scribes, tech priests. Haar even saw a pair of Imperial Fists on patrol.

The stands and tightly packed streets soon gave way to the residential area. Two story houses and small stores dominated the area.

Boian paused near one of them. Vesta smelled grilling meat and freshly baked bread.

Boian returned with a paper wrapped fresh off the grill steak in one hand and a jar of black olives in another. Vesta saw six more crammed in his ammo pouches.

“Kal Jakar may be armored physically and spiritually against corruption,but he loves olives. “ Boian said.

He took a bite of steak. Meat juice dribbled onto his gorget. Vesta saw Haar conversing with a man in ragged clothing. He handed him a red coin with the lightening and Eagle symbol of Unity.

“What’s that coin for?’ Vesta asked.

“Identification, the Administratum can’t identify every citizen on Terra, let alone alone the refugees that have been pouring in. That coin will get him to the Tyrannis without any Bureaucratic delay.” Boian said. The Blackshield finished his steak and chucked the paper wrapper in an already overflowing waste receptacle. He opened a jar of olives and popped a few in his mouth.

Vesta held out her hand, and Boian dropped a handful into her awaiting palm.

They continued to walk for a block and that entered a two story store.

Its sign read:

Alessander Graves: Rogue Trader and collector.

Haar opened the door. A bell chimed.

The store was rather small, with a counter of dark wood and

“ Endryd! It’s been too long my friend! How can I be of service?”

Haar actually smiled.

“Any Astartes wargear you’ve managed to scavenge. And anything else that might catch our eyes.”

Alessander Graves was an older man with slicked back silver hair and wild blue eyes. He wore a red and gold longcoat over a plain white dress shirt and blue pants with ornate silver shinguards. A Charnabal saber was sheathed at his hip and a plasma pistol in his shoulder holster.

“And you brought a young lady this time! I would have preferred Lady Philone, but I love meeting new people!” Graves said with a hearty laugh.

“My name is Vesta Augustus.” she said.

Graves bowed.

“Alessander Graves, Rogue Trader and scoundrel of Segmentum Obscurus at your service.”

He shook Vesta’s hand.

“You have a firm handshake my dear.” Graves said.

“Thank you sir.” Vesta said.

Graves laughed like a melodic horse. She found his laugh annoying,but she liked him much better than many of the Rogue Traders who had come into her father’s court.

“In terms of Astartes wargear I don’t have much. I recovered some suits of MKIII power armor from one of the Corpse Grinders Destroyers. A few Bolters and Chainswords, some autocannons, and a couple of Plasma guns.”

“What kind of condition are they in?��

“It varies. Some are just worth their weight in scrap, others look fresh from Mars.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Boian asked.

“It’s your coin old friend.” Alessander said.

Boian nodded and strode to a room in the back of a store.

Alessander stared at Vesta.

“Oh! Before I forget.“ He led Vesta to a stasis field.

Inside was a suit of Power Armor. The chest and shoulders was clearly from a suit of MK1 Thunder Power Armor that were adapted for a regular sized human. The legs pieces were Carapace armor. The gauntlets were smooth grey Ceramite, untouched by war. A purple cloak woven th gold with threads of gold was draped over the armor shoulders.

It was the most beautiful thing Vesta had ever seen.

Haar felt his breath hitch,

“Is that-”

“A voidsheen cloak, aye.”

Alessander looked at Vesta.

“Well put it on lass! You’re gonna be wearing it! For throne’s sake you’re running around with a Blackshield! You’re going to need more protection than that pretty sword of yours.”

Before Vesta moved to deactivate the stasis field, she had to ask one question.

“Do you sell black paint?”

Refugee Camp TK57-1128-117-2224-A was just one of many refugee camps that had sprung up on Terra when the galaxy caught fire. The Emperor in his infinite wisdom had guided Kal Jakar here.

Laden with Rucksacks full of food that wasn’t nutrient paste and liquid electrolyte packets, toys and clothing, Kal Jakar strode into the camp.

Many of the refugees wore tattered clothing and had thin faces.

Kar Jakar wordlessly began distributing the supplies.

There was fear on some of the faces. An Astartes, one in blackened armor was handing out food and supplies. In what universe did that happen? Astartes were gene-forged killers, murderers conquers. They burned worlds with a smile beneath the helms.

When did Astartes show such compassion?

When did an Astartes act Human?

Once the supplies was distributed he walked among the camp, blessing the refugees. He taught children how to read. He helped clean the camp to prevent disease spreading.

As he was leading a small group of refugees in prayer, Kal heard the clanking of Ceramite on rough dirt.

It was an Imperial Fist. The heraldic cross on his right shoulder pad identified him as a veteran. He bore the insignia of a breacher legionnaire, as if the boarding shield and modified Tigrus pattern bolter didn’t distinguish it. A Two handed Power Sword with a silver cross hilt rested in a scabbard of black Inwit leather. Judging by his unit markings and laurel insignia the legionnaire was the sergeant of the 5th Breacher Siege Squad of the 30th company, 7th Battalion of the Second Shield Corp of the First Sphere.

The Legionnaire removed his Mark III helm ,revealing a scarred face with close cropped black hair and eyes the color of Terra’s drained oceans.

He reached into a bolt pistol magazine and removed a tattered Lectio Divinitatus chapbook.

“My Wall Brother believed in this faith. He prayed to the Emperor as he dyed to the poisoned blade of an Alpha Legionnaire. “

The Legionnaire’s face curled.

“I wish to know more, I need guidance. Horus draws closer to Terra. I need to know Chaplain. Does He protect. Does the Emperor Protect?!”

Tears streaked down his face and great sobs racked the Space Marine’s body. A little girl no more than eight Terran years put a hand on his shoulder pad. She had the same blue eyes as him and long messy blond hair. She wore a blue dress and had a blue bow in her hair.

The Imperial Fist looked at the child, than at Kal Jakar.

“He does protect. In ways you cannot possibly imagine. Tell me brother, what is your name?’

“It is Emetris, I am stationed at Daylight Wall.”

“Will you pray with us Emetris?” Kal Jakar asked.

Emetris looked around at the refugees, than at Kal Jakar.

“ I will Chaplain.”

Danek felt something burrowing under the sheets. His eyes snapped open.

Asclepius was snuggled next to him . His breathing was steady.

Danek felt a cough in his throat and forced it down. He reached for the glass of water and the pills on a small bronze tray.

After he got the water and pills down his burned throat he looked at the sheets and then held a hand under his nose. No blood on the clean white sheets or the furs. That was some improvement.

He turned and his diminishing eyesight picked out little Aella laying next to Asclepius.

“How’d you get in here little one?” Danek asked

“Picked the lock. I learned to do that yesterday.”

“And how was today?” he layed back down. Aella snuggled next to him and engulfed herself in the pile of furs and cotton sheets.

“Paperwork, classes, The Emperor set his hair on fire again. Valdor and Lady Arlette were bickering again, Amon gave us some cake from the palace kitchens, We got to practice with our Guardian Spears again, but it wasn’t as fun because we weren’t shooting at Tribune Ra. ”

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll shoot at Prefect Diocletian.” Danek rasped. He’d have to get his augmetics checked tomorrow.

“ Maybe.” She said with a yawn.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

Danek felt warmth blossom in what was left of his chest.

“I am now.”

#endryd haar #horus heresy #warhammer 40k #fanfiction #legio custodes #baby custodes are best custodes. vesta is getting gifts left and right. she's going to make good use of her weapons next chapter.#haar will too.#noblebright

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the-delta-42 · 7 years ago

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10th Doctor Sonic Screwdriver

Owner: Tenth Doctor/David Tennant

First Appearance: The Christmas invasion/Smith and Jones

Last Appearance: Eleventh Hour

Uses: Unlocking handcuffs.

Locking and unlocking a hatch in Cybus Industries.

Unlocking a taxi door and window.

Hacking into the H.C. Clements website.

Bypassing the key needed to access the secret basement in H.C. Clements.

Opening air-tight seals.

Unsuccessfully activating emergency by-pass switches.

Bypassing and turning off security systems.

Disabling security orbs.

Trying unsuccessfully to hack into New New York's police communications to call for help.

Destroying a security camera.

Opening and closing the Titanic's doors.

Disabling emergency exit alarms and locks, but causing sparks as a result.

Controlling a cable cart; also locking it in a "sonic cage" to prevent anything but another sonic device from controlling it.

Breaking into a silo on the Ood-Sphere.

Fusing a lock shut, forcing it to be broken down.

Temporarily turning off lethal security beams.

Opening the casing of a cleaning robot.

Opening bus doors.

Accessing Bowie Base One's records on the Flood infection.

Unlocking the door to Adelaide Brooke's house.

Switching the Hesperus' power off.

Dislodging and reinserting teeth.

Partially reversing the Abzorbaloff's absorption of Ursula Blake.

Confusing the antibodies of a living planet.

Building a DNA scanning device.

Scanning for fluctuating DNA, specifically that of Professor Lazarus.

Scanning a life form for information, specifically Donna Noble.

Scanning the Eleventh Doctor to confirm his identity as a future incarnation.

Detecting heated water.

Scanning shadows for the presence of Vashta Nerada.

Checking Crusader 50's control console for faults.

Scanning for Infostamps.

Scanning the Eleventh Doctor to identify if he was an imposter.

Tracing distress signals.

Scanning slime.

Scanning the President of Earth for alien influence.

Detecting and illuminating ultraviolet characters.

Detecting the arrival of spacecraft.

Picking up traces of psychic spoor.

Detecting time traces.

Detecting the progress of the War Doctor's calculation in his iteration of the sonic screwdriver.

Blowing up a remote control Christmas tree.

Re-establishing the time window's connection to a space ship in the future.

De-activating a living graphite scribble.

Reversing an anti-gravity umbrella.

Detonating an explosive device.

Calling immediately a number in a phone box without the need of pressing number buttons.

Getting money from a cash machine, at both regular and extra-high rates of ejection.

Detonating the head of a roboform.

Searching a phone for an app or a feature.

Scanning through hospital records, specifically to find any patient suffering from strange symptoms (an alien in disguise).

Partially activating ventilation air ducts.

Sending out a signal to tell the Daleks where he was.

Reversing the polarity of Lazarus' machine, sending an energy pulse out to knock Lazarus unconscious and revert him to human form.

Disabling robotic flies.

Modifying hearing aids.

Reversing teleport feeds.

Giving mobile phones the ability to call across time and space.

Completing the propulsion system for the ship destined for Utopia.

Fusing the TARDIS' navigational coordinates, allowing only travel between its current position and the previous one. The fusion was imperfect; at least 18 months before or after take-off were allowed as destinations.

Fixing and upgrading a decades-broken vortex manipulator.

Rewiring a television/portrait to show ship's systems.

Looping temporal energy of a fraxis pod back into a zygma drive.

Shattering robot assassins.

Disabling a Sontaran teleport.

Unsuccessfully trying to bypass the Sontarans' control of the ATMOS, forcing the Doctor to use reverse-psychology with the machine to avoid drowning.

Changing the destination of a Sontaran teleport.

Opening a broadcast channel on a Sontaran ship in order to communicate.

Changing the "channel" on a broadcast when the Sontarans began chanting.

Building a terraforming device to ignite the poisonous clouds.

Accessing hidden areas on a holographic map.

Unintentionally showing a hologram of Donna Noble.

Tinting a helmet visor and increasing the mesh density of a spacesuit.

Disabling the Crusader 50's entertainment system.

Modifying a gravity converter.

Disabling a Cyrronak robot.

Cancelling out a phonic blast.

Repairing an overloading distribution box.

Downloading a journal.

Remotely controlling environmental controls.

Overriding Gadget's controller and increasing the robot's speed to the point where it left trails of flames behind.

Activating the memory-erasing device in the Black Archive.

Disabling a shimmer.

Helping repair the Hesperus.

Setting up a resonation pattern in concrete.

Destroying the Robot Santas with sound (used in conjunction with a professional sound system).

Increasing the radiation output of a device such as an x-ray scanner; this action burned out the screwdriver.

Producing hypersonic sound waves which led to the death of the mutated Richard Lazarus, in conjunction with a pipe organ.

Used with Miss Foster's sonic pen to create an ultra-high frequency.

Igniting swamp gas.

Stopping the emergence of Mirrorlings from mirrors.

Lighting a candle.

Cutting rope.

Illuminating Rose Tyler.

Partially cracking glass so it could be smashed with the tiniest press of a finger.

Cutting a spider web.

Overloading Cybermen.

Crashing an aircar.

Trying to strip off pieces of Dalekanium.

Lighting a Bunsen burner from a distance.

Melting hardened asphalt into heated tarmac, and reversing the process, so as to catch animals in a road.

Sinking a ship.

Resonating a floor to destroy it, via crystal gems.

Melting chocolate by increasing the resonance frequency of a torch.

As a soldering iron to make perception filters using TARDIS keys.

Uncorking a champagne bottle.

Knocking over stone tablets.

Cutting rope holding Donna to a sacrificial altar.

Putting horseshoes onto horses.

Creating a stasis beam.

Teleporting a Graske to the other side of the universe.

Teleporting onto a Nim spacecraft.

As a sonic toothbrush.

Shattering ice.

Blowing up a fire hydrant.

Atmospheric excitation to cause rain.

Tickling a lion with sonic waves.

Tinting the Doctor's glasses, effectively making them sunglasses.

Stopping and winding up a winch.

Incapacitating a Gizou.

Making toast and butter.

As an actual screwdriver, without touching the screws.

Combining power with the Eleventh and War Doctors' sonic screwdrivers to create a sonic force to blast back and destroy an attacking Dalek in the Time War.

Scanning a crack in Amelia Pond's wall*.

Remotely controlling the TARDIS to change its course, saving the Doctor and his vessel the fate of colliding into Big Ben*.

Opening a "crack in space-time"*.

Switching a radio between several international channels to determine that the Atraxi were broadcasting their warning for Prisoner Zero to surrender or be destroyed along with the "human residence" to the entire Earth*.

Trying to set off multiple technological resources on Earth to draw the attention of the Atraxi; however, due to the damage it had sustained from Prisoner Zero and continued abuse, this action overtaxed the screwdriver and caused its components to fail, which ultimately led to it burning up and exploding with a large burst of sparks*.

Locking Prisoner Zero in the room it was hiding in*.

Opinion: This is actually one of my favourite Sonic Screwdrivers. It’s not very different than the Ninth Doctor’s sonic Screwdriver, aside from the different coloured casing.

#doctor who #10th doctor #Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor sonic screwdriver #10th Doctor Sonic Screwdriver #David Tennant #Sonic Screwdriver

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