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shuyamino · 2 years ago

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LUXIEM IN COLLEGE

pairing(s) : ✒ ،، mysta rias x reader | ike eveland x reader | vox akuma x reader | luca kaneshiro x reader | shu yamino x reader

summary : ✒ ،، You're attending Nijisanji University and meet a couple of interesting characters ...

note : ✒ ،، my 100th post, ayoooo!! some of the details here are from my own experience in uni, which hopefully adds more realism to it :3 i'm currently working on 3 longer wips, so ive been a bit slow with writing. i hope this makes up for it <3!!!

SHU YAMINO AS THE TECH SUPPORT ʿ ⟢

SHU is works at your campus' Genius Center — which is just a fancy way of saying the college IT workers. From what you remembered, they help out with various of tech-related services. Which is perfect for you, after your laptop suddenly died one night.

You basically ran into the campus support center the following morning and thrusted your laptop into the nearest Tech Support you can spot — this essay was due that evening! You knew you shouldn't have procrastinated, but you did anyways.

Shu wasn't too shocked about your actions — by now, it was fairly normal to have various college students panicking in the lobby. He holds your laptop, voice calm as he asks you what the problem is.

You're rambling a bit too much. Jumping around topics and making a flurry of hand movements. But he's nodding along, lips still curved to a comforting smile as he leads you towards one of the desks in the small building.

Once you finish your explanation, he has your laptop open and clicking away at the keyboard.

"Um — s-so, can you fix it?" You ask quietly, peeking over his shoulder to look at your laptop screen.

"Well, it looks like you have a... couple of viruses." He answers, craning his neck just to look at you from over his shoulder. "You said you had an essay due soon?" You nod, lips pursed.

"Well… I can help fix up your laptop but if you had your essay saved in a Drive, you can borrow a laptop here and finish it up." You thank him as he heads to the back to get you a campus-issued laptop.

For a good chunk of that day, the two of you sat in this corner — him, trying to fix your laptop and you, trying to finish the rest of your essay.

SHU abruptly stops to stretch his arms up above his head, groaning slightly as he fixed his posture. You'd gotten more than half of your essay finished — thankfully you had the foresight to save all of your online references in a separate outlined document. Since you ran to the tech support building the moment you woke up, you didn't have time to eat breakfast. It wasn't long until your stomach began to protest that mistake. Your cheeks burn red as your stomach groaned — just loud enough to catch Shu's attention. His eyes glance over yours, lips slowly curving to a warm smile. "I...was thinking of taking a coffee break, do you want to come grab something with me?"

It isn't until much later after he helped fix your laptop that you find out that the campus tech support doesn't help students with their personal laptops.

Nor do they take them out for coffee.

MYSTA RIAS AS THE CLASS CRYPTID ʿ ⟢

MYSTA is a student that you thought was failing your shared course — he was fairly late the first day and looked like he rolled out of bed before running to the lecture hall.

He sat beside you at the back corner of the lecture hall after being sternly reprimanded by your professor. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, if anything, it looked like the scolding went in one ear and out the other.

The rest of the semester continues like this. Since it's a general edu class, you're not quite sure what his major is. There were some days when it looked like he was doing comp sci work. Another day when he was reading an online textbook about primates (Anthropology, maybe?). And there were even some slower days when he would just sit and watch anime with a pair of discrete Airpods.

There were some days when he'd notice you staring and he'd turn on subtitles and tilt his laptop towards your direction. Other than this, the two of you rarely spoke to each other. Just small talk at most — it was easy to joke with him, at least, but other than that, you didn't really see him outside of this lecture hall.

Least to say, you've grown morbidly curious about him as the semester progressed. There were a few things that you knew about him — he seemed to like the color orange, if his clothes were anything to go by, and he liked anime. In addition to these facts, you were fairly certain that he was failing this class.

So, imagine your shock after receiving the results of your first exam and you spot a clear 100% on Mysta's paper compared to your 69%.

MYSTA must have noticed you staring because his head snapped up from his exam paper directly to you. You jump slightly, startled at getting caught staring. His eyes trail down to your paper, lips curving slightly at the red mark on your paper. Just as you're about to accusatorially ask him what he was grinning at, he points at the number with a laugh. "You got a 69!" Your jaw slacks because it wasn't exactly what you'd expected to come from his mouth, all the while he keeps laughing about the funny number. You're sat there with an absolute deadpan expression all the while the oh-so mysterious classmate laughs at your score. Not because of how badly you'd done — no, he's laughing because it's a sixty-nine. "Aw, don't pout." Mysta says, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. His voice lowered, edging slightly towards a mockingly condescending tone. "I can help you study for the next test, if you want~"

The "study session" actually just consisted of watching more anime and eating.

IKE EVELAND AS THE CAMPUS LIBRARIAN ʿ ⟢

IKE works in the campus library!

He's known for being very friendly and approachable. Any and all anxiety disappears the moment you see him. He just has a really comforting vibe! Students that tour first years around campus make sure to tell them about Ike Eveland. ("If you ever need help around the library, find Ike!")

Ike often works behind the counter on the first floor, but there are moments in which he's putting books back where they belong in the other floors of the library.

You frequented the library — mostly taking advantage of the air conditioning, the tables and comfy chairs, and the quiet floor to take naps in during your free time.

When you weren't studying or finishing up course work, you were usually just sitting around the quiet room to take a nap or just have some downtime from your hectic classes and loud campus.

Despite this, you haven't really spoken to Ike. You never had to, anyway. But you have heard of him — more often than not, you hear people around the other floors whispering and giggling about the cute librarian on the first floor. It doesn't take a genius to know who they were talking about.

The first time you meet him was by pure coincidence.

"Stupid book…" You muttered, already standing on your toes as you stretch your arm up above your head. It wasn't even placed on the highest shelf — just a shelf above your reach. None of the step stools were around either, leaving you to fight this alone. Just as your fingertips managed to reach the book's spine, another hand came into view and easily pulled the book out from the shelf. Your head turns, ready to thank your savior, before you realize you're basically face-to-face with the one and only — "Y-You...!" You stammer before you can help it. IKE tilts is head slightly, seemingly unaffected by the distance between the two of you, or the lack there of. His torso is brushing against your back and you're basically caged between his body and the bookshelf. Your heart thrums against your chest — the loud drumming filling your ears as your cheeks fill with heat. "Sorry, it looked like you needed help." He explains, as he holds the book out for you. You close your mouth, hoping that he didn't notice the way your jaw slackened at the sight of him as you wordlessly take the book from his hand. You're fixing your hair before you can help it — a nervous habit at most. The others weren't exaggerating at all, you think, as you sneak another glance at Ike. He is just as pretty as most people say — kind eyes with long, pretty lashes and a kind smile. Is it a little weird to note that he smells like vanilla too? "I'm still around here for a bit, if you need any more help you can come ask me, okay?"

VOX AKUMA AS THE NEW PROFESSOR ʿ ⟢

VOX recently graduated from grad school and is starting his first year as a professor in Nijisanji University! You're lucky enough to be able to attend his first ever class in your last year as an undergrad.

He's teaching English Literature and even while most students are taking this class to fill in for their general education, he expected the lot of you to still take his class seriously.

It's an hour and thirty minute long class and he spends the first few minutes just talking to the class and reading a short poem every Friday.

Even though it's his first time teaching, he's really good at explaining concepts and various analysis. In addition to this, he's very attentive to what the class (and individual) needs.

It's hard to think that it was his first time teaching, not gonna lie.

On top of his attentiveness, Professor Vox was both pleasing to the eyes and ears. It wouldn't be an over-exaggeration to say that he became a fairly popular professor to the entire student body.

As easy as this class was for the most part, you were still struggling with being able to analyze and connect some literary devices.

So, seeing the bright red C- and a 'Please see me after class', in your latest exam wasn't much of a shock

Professor VOX didn't seem disappointed when you approached him at the end of class — if anything, he seemed concerned. You tried to ignore the wary looks your classmates gave you when you approached him though. It was already embarrassing to get such an awful grade, even weirder knowing that your classmates are imagining some weird porn scenario in their head right about now. He greets you kindly despite your grade and is already packing his things up for the next class. You're nervously fidgeting with your thumbs — you've always hated having to talk to professors about your grade. No matter how kind they were. "I'm really sorry," You start, before he can start his 'I'm-not-disappointed' speech. Vox's eyebrows quirk, before his lips curl to a comforting smile. "I just…I kind of understand everything — " "There's nothing to apologize for," He cuts you off with a small wave of his hand. "If anything, I want to be the one to apologize. I should have noticed one of my students struggling." Your heart skips a beat. It's unfair for him to be handsome, attentive, and kind. Your cheeks flush before you can help it — a deep flush that makes you sweat a little under his gaze. "I-I think it's just hard to connect these kinds of things for me." You explain, hoping that your voice doesn't come out too high pitched. "It really isn't your fault." Vox seems to mull it over. "Well, I won't force your hand on the matter, but if you'd prefer, I am open for one-on-one tutoring sessions."

LUCA KANESHIRO AS THE DORM CUTIE ʿ ⟢

The dorms were co-ed, though the male and female rooms were separated in different wings. When you first started college, you were required to live in the dorms.

Bumping into the opposite gender wasn't anything odd, though you'd be a liar to say that you didn't have moments of confusion upon seeing some rando standing about by your dorm room.

You meet LUCA on your way to one evening class — an unavoidable class, unfortunately, if you want to stay on track for your 4-year graduation. You bump into him past the common room, where he's making a sandwich.

You don't recognize him right away, but he does you.

"Oh hey!" He calls out, holding a sandwich in his hand. "I remember you from orientation. Where are you going?"

He seemed friendly enough, so you explain to him where you were heading. It wasn't until a few seconds into the conversation that you realize that he was in your orientation group. His name was at the tip of your tongue — Leo? Luke? — Oh, right! Luca.

LUCA blinks, looking confused when you explained to him where you were heading — almost like it didn't even cross his mind that people would take classes this late in the evening. You stare back, more or less confused about his reaction than anything else. He reminds you of the typical frat boy — wouldn't be too surprised if he did end up joining a fraternity after living in the dorms. Broad shoulders and a big build. And his thin white shirt isn't doing much to hide the dark tattoos on his chest. His medium length blonde hair is messily tied up too, like he'd done it in a hurry to make his sandwich. He is cute though. "Well, I should go." You say, pointing towards the elevator. It was the first day — or, evening, you guess — and you really didn't want to be late, even if it meant being able to talk to someone like Luca. "Oh, wait! I actually have somewhere to go right now. Is it cool if I walk with you?" Luca asks, still smiling brightly with his sandwich. You can't help but squint at him. It was clear that he wasn't planning on going out anywhere. He must have noticed your suspicion because he quickly adds, "It's late, you know. We can keep each other safe!" You realize then what he was hoping to do. You couldn't help but beam at him; your lips curling to a wide smile. You agree to his offer, deciding to play along with his excuse. Just this once. His own face lights up at your response. His response reminds you of a giant giant golden retriever. "Pog! Lemme jus' grab my jacket."

#shu yamino x reader #mysta rias x reader #ike eveland x reader #vox akuma x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji en x reader #luxiem imagines #luxiem imagine #college au #im so sorry if its obvious i have so much feels for shu while i was writing this jifwuehfuiwe #★﹚mysta #★﹚shu #★﹚vox #★﹚luca #★﹚ike #casper★writes

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witharsenicsauce · 4 years ago

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Chosen Stories From The War #44: The Glass Elevator

(Content Warning: This chapter contains brief mentions of abuse)

Camazotz’s cold heart didn’t hold much room in it for anyone. He had already relegated far too much space for Abyzou, and Bhandasura had stolen a chunk of it too, and the remains of it were far too dry and cold to make anything else out of it.

That was why he always laughed--internally--when Abyzou called their little worker drones their “children.” It wasn’t such that he hated their creations (he hated everyone, but that was beside the point), but he just could not look down at any of them, not even his own Gur-Rai, and see anything but a machine. Maybe an employee at best, and employees could be terminated.

This one, though, he had to admit, had stolen a tiny piece of his cold, dead heart. Maybe it was the eyes: the color of snake venom, similar to his. Or maybe it was that charismatic smile: they had made him for one reason, and that was to win over the crowd. But really, it was probably the way the Speaker, even as he bowed low, practically prostrating himself before the Elder, still managed to hold onto a portion of that power in their face. Abyzou would hate it, if she ever noticed. Camazotz saw it as something to respect.

“Glorious Elder Camazotz.” The Speaker looked up at him from his position on the floor, and Camazotz saw a glint of yellow behind those glasses. “You know I would never interrupt unless for the most urgent news.”

“Of course.” Camazotz chuckled. “I assume it’s something I’ll be happy about.”

“An associate has informed me that they have three of the Commander’s Inner Circle right on their doorstep.” The Speaker rose to his feet. “Jane Kelly is among them, as is Shaojie Zhang, and a name I’m sure you have not heard in years, the legendary Taymallat.”

“Annette Durand? That is a rare sighting.” Camazotz chuckled. He almost regretted that Annette had managed to escape so early on. She had been stronger than most humans he’d encountered. Maybe she could have managed where the others failed. “But she is not as important as the others. Jane Kelly is out in the open? She is practically giving herself up.”

“I believe from here, her capture will be swift and simple.” The Speaker continued.

“She is a wily thing, Navisor.” Camazotz knelt down so he was closer to the Speaker’s height, although the cold floor hurt his knees. He reveled in the pain. It meant he was still alive.

“This time is different.” The Speaker insisted. “She is looking for Vahlen.”

Camazotz clenched his fists in laughter. “Humans are so sentimental.”

“Aren’t they? But she’s still convinced, deep down, that to reconcile is possible. And I think with a bit of twisting, that could work in our favor~”

“You sound like you already have a plan.” Camazotz said.

“I do, but I would never do anything without consulting you.” The Speaker bowed low again.

“Navisor, whatever you are planning, you have my permission to execute it.” Camazotz assured him. “Especially if it will cause my beloved wife a headache she’ll suffer for days.”

The Speaker faltered at that, but only briefly. “I shall prepare to fly out at once. And on the topic of consulting you, Vox Camazotz, I do again require your wisdom.”

“Speak freely.” He waved a hand toward the Speaker. “You know there are no secrets here.”

“The humans are beginning to question the absence of the Chosen.” The Speaker raised his head, green eyes peering over black sunglasses. Both mirrored Camazotz’s own reflection back at him. He saw his own, sickly eyes looking back, and he may as well have been staring at someone else entirely.

He sighed. “And I suppose they will start causing problems if we don’t offer them an explanation soon. Or at the very least, distract them.” Camazotz raised his four arms and clasped his fingers together. “There is another gala coming, is there not?”

“Indeed, in no less than a month.” The Speaker said, and he could feel Camazotz’s satisfaction.

“I believe I may have a solution. If Xezbeth and Tiyanak have decided they want to play mad scientist, perhaps I’ll make them earn the title.”

“I apologize, I am not very skilled…” Kon-Mai admitted as her fingers ran through the long, black tresses that fell to Aisha’s waist. Her hair was coarse and thick, but looked healthy beyond measure. Reaching back toward her own curly locks, Kon-Mai acknowledged how she had been leaving them down recently, and unfortunately they’d developed some rather embarrassing tangles as a result.

“An extra pair of hands is appreciated.” Aisha assured her. “It doesn’t have to be a perfect braid, I’ll be putting it under a cap anyway.” Speaking of, she reached over and grabbed a satin underscarf and handed it back to Kon-Mai. “Can you hold that? I’ll put the hair in a bun.”

“Of course.” Kon-Mai took her hands away as she watched Aisha work. The yurt they sat in was hers, and of course since Aisha was the Jinong, it was slightly bigger and more elaborate than the other single houses in Karakorum. The walls were made of stone instead of leather, although the roof was still thatched like the others. On said walls, a few keepsakes hung, some carvings in rock done presumably by a child, a few arrows with feathers on the end, some strings of beads, a bow…and other than that, it was clean, almost pristine.

In the center, the two sat beside a small fire pit that was unlit at the moment, relying on the light flooding in from the open door. The ground was swept as clean as it could be in the steppe, and out of the corner of her eye, Kon-Mai saw a beetle saunter by lazily. She put one hand down on the cool ground and took a deep breath, rooting herself in this place.

She looked up as Aisha reached back for the cap, but instead of handing it to her, Kon-Mai (her hands seemingly moving on their own) raised the cap to Aisha’s head and slid it on for her in one fell swoop, covering her hair almost perfectly. Aisha seemed to startle, and Kon-Mai reeled back at her own forwardness.

“I’m so sorry…” She stammered. “I…I don’t know why I did such a thing.”

“No, it’s okay.” Aisha smoothed out some of the baby hairs around her face and chuckled, tucking them under the cap. “I haven’t had anyone do that for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” Kon-Mai said again. “…Was that another practice Monkh performed for you?”

“When I was little.” Aisha said quietly. “ …She was so good with hair. Her hair was so different from mine, it was really curly and kind of coily, but she could pull it back in braids, or smooth it down, or…” She paused, laying her hands in her lap. “ …Thank you for helping me with this. It’s nice to not be doing my hair alone…”

“No one else comes over?” Kon-Mai asked, getting to her feet and walking over to the wooden table that held a series of metal pins and brooches, all adorned with Elerium glowing in various colors.

“No…” Aisha shrugged. “I do not mind. The others…they feel more comfortable around each other.”

Kon-Mai herself had been slightly apprehensive to come over when Aisha invited her, even more so when the Jinong had asked for help doing her hair. She had cited Kon-Mai’s own silver locks as inspiration for asking, but Kon-Mai still felt a bit guilty that she had hesitated at all. Aisha was already so isolated, and to be honest...so was Kon-Mai.

“They should not exclude you simply because you are different.” Kon-Mai scoffed, turning over a few of the brooches in her hands, and finally selecting one shaped like a seashell with a faint purple glow.

“I don’t think that’s the entire reason.” Aisha assured her. “It’s a mixture of things…jealousy is probably a root.”

Kon-Mai chuckled. “There might be much to be jealous of, but it is their own shortcomings that hamper them.” She sat behind Aisha, who was wrapping the dark purple hijab round her head. “They should use their envy to become stronger.”

“I think they think I’m the weak one…” Aisha sighed. “And that I didn’t earn my place as Jinong.”

Kon-Mai scoffed. “Monkh would disagree. She loved you too much for you to think that.”

Aisha froze, and Kon-Mai froze with her, and the two sat in silence for a moment.

“It still hurts.” Aisha admitted. “And it’s never felt right without her here, the Khatun hasn’t been the same…”

Kon-Mai quietly pinned the hijab in place with the purple brooch. It sparkled in the sunlight, turning pink then red, then purple once again.

“I need to do some hunting before the sun sets.” Aisha got to her feet and took her bow off of the wall. “Will you join me?”

Kon-Mai raised a brow. “Proper hunting? I’m afraid I am terrible with a bow.”

“I can show you how.” Aisha assured her. “And I’d like the company.”

Kon-Mai mused on this for a moment, watching the look in Aisha’s eyes go from painful reminiscence to anxious desperation. She stood slowly, brushing off her knees, and nodded.

“Thank you.” Aisha sighed in relief. “...You can take Nergui. He’s big enough for you to ride.”

“Nergui?” Kon-Mai faltered. “...But that was Monkh’s horse. You said he does not let anyone get close…”

“He was Monkh’s horse, yes.” Was all Aisha said, her eyes unreadable. “But…”

“But?”

“He’s one of the biggest ones.” Aisha stepped away, avoiding Kon-Mai’s gaze. “If you want, you can take one of the smaller ones, but I don’t think they’ll handle as well.”

Kon-Mai wanted to insist on doing so, but when she went to protest...found she was unable to speak.

Malinalli was waving in the distance as the cart came into view, and Dhar-Mon made himself smile for her. But as the cart drew closer, laden with metals and processed Elerium, she saw his face, and saw the worry lining it.Her own smile dropped.

She embraced him as he came close, squeezing around his waist and burying her face in his chest, and he put his hands on her shoulders and brought her in close, seeking comfort in her embrace.

“What happened?” She asked softly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “Did something go wrong at the mines?”

He sighed, shook his head...and then sighed again. “I do not know. And I feel we cannot discuss it here.”

Malinalli looked around, then grabbed his hand. “Let’s go somewhere private then.” She began to pull him away, stopping only when one of the warriors Dhar-Mon had been traveling with, Uyanga, called to them.

“Hey, Purple Man! You’re strong!” She jabbed her thumb at the cart. “Help us unload.”

“I was going…” Dhar-Mon began to protest, his voice shaking as he tried to find the words. “...'Purple man’?”

Malinalli stepped up and put a hand on his arm. “I’ll help too. Those look heavy and you could use all the help.”

Uyanga raised a skeptical eye, running her gaze up and down Malinalli’s body. “No muscle on you. Only fat.”

“That’s correct.” Malinalli gave her a smirk as she pushed past and grabbed a chunk of Elerium with both hands. “So you don’t want the extra help?”

Uyanga eyed her for a moment more before nodding slowly. “Just keep up.”

Dhar-Mon approached his lover, who was faring okay carrying the smaller chunks, but when she reached for a piece almost as big as her head, he stopped her. “Are you sure-?”

“Please, don’t you underestimate me too.” She said softly. “I can carry these fine, holding down patients is a lot harder.”

“I…y-you’re right, I am so sorry…” He stammered, looking down and blushing purple, his skin growing hotter until Malinalli climbed up on the cart beside him and kissed him on his scaly cheek.

“Now, tell me about the mine.” She whispered in his ear.

“We are exposed here.” He looked back at Uyanga, who was unloading her own batch of Elerium near the town’s center plaza. “If only we could talk like before…”

“The mental link.” Malinalli chuckled. “I miss you on the inside sometimes.”

“I believe I have a substitute for that.” Dhar-Mon couldn’t stop himself blushing as he said that.

Malinalli snorted, almost dropping the Elerium she had picked up. “In my head, you dummy. But maybe later, we’ll see~” She winked.

He chuckled, then his smile fell and his heart sank again. “It was everything the Khatun says it is, a great hole in the earth that slips into darkness, but the walls are lined with glowing Elerium. They process it, and in turn stabilize its radioactive properties. For the most part.”

“So you won’t become fully irradiated from wearing a necklace.” Malinalli nodded. “Smart…”

“Indeed.” He didn’t quite know what else to say on it. “The workers…seem indifferent. I met one that was friendly, but the others did not pay me much mind. Several were…they were scared of me.”

“I’m sure they were just startled, they might not get many visitors…” Malinalli looked over her shoulder, then leaned in again to kiss him, whispering as she did “But that’s not all, is it?”

“There is something amiss within the mine.” He said. “And I do not believe it is benevolent. Screams echo from within.”

Malinalli pulled away from him, worry more apparent in her eyes. “I’d love to see it.” She tried to keep her voice chipper. “You’ll have to insist the others take me with, next time they go.”

“Next time?” Dhar-Mon blinked. “...Oh. Yes. When next we go, I will take you, my darling.”

Malinalli winked. “We should go early. So we aren’t missed too much here.”

“I’m sure it will not take long. We only want to see the outer mine, after all…” Dhar-Mon looked over at Uyanga, who only generally glanced in their direction. It seemed like she hadn’t heard them.

“Maybe with some luck, we can sneak away together~”

It seemed like Hong Kong was always kind of dark. Then again, everything was dark around Jane Kelly.

She crossed her legs, leaning back against the metal bench plunked smack in the middle of a park that was way too pristine. The sky was a soft grey, and the sun hid behind a thin layer of cloud that dimmed its light just enough that the shadows covered her face.

She knew she was taking a risk out here, but she had to get away. Do something. It felt like they were getting nowhere with Dax́iiu: Zhang kept giving him good reasons to defect, and Dax́iiu just kept kicking the can farther down the road. Her comrades had assured her that it would just take time, but Jane wasn’t going to sit around holding her breath.

Time was passing, far too quickly. She’d already lost so many years, she wanted as much time as she could pry from the cosmos’ cold, dead hands. And if Vahlen was here? If Vahlen was somewhere in Hong Kong?

Jane stood up and walked briskly across the street shoving her hands into her pockets. She had to keep moving, always keep moving. Bradford used to call her a hamster, running on its wheel. Maybe that was true. Maybe she should go back to-

Footsteps behind her made her slow, and she took a quick turn down a dirt maintenance path, ducking behind a beat up truck. A couple of Trooper helmets lay on the ground beside their wheels, and the footsteps drew closer to her hiding place and then stopped.

“I know you are there.” A familiar voice called out, stilted and awkward, in broken English. “Come out.”

Jane took a moment to remember where she’d heard that--him--before. When she did, a shiver went up her spine, and she was definitely no closer to revealing herself. She envied Kon-Mai in that moment, being able to go invisible would have been really handy right now.”

“I am not going to hurt you.” He said again. “I know what you seek. I want to help you.”

Jane still hesitated. “ …I’m armed.” She said. “If you try and drag me off to ADVENT, I have absolutely no problem shooting myself.”

“Please don’t.” He said. “Please, I want to help.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Jane reached for her pocket weapon, ready to make a run for it. “You’re in Dax́iiu’s pocket. And he might be talking, but he sure hasn’t made things easy for us.”

“Please.” He said again. “I don’t know how to say. Please…”

Jane kept silent for a moment longer, then stood up and looked into the black eyes of T8Y47.

“I know what you seek.” He said. “I know...who you seek.”

“How?” Jane drew her gun and pointed it at his shoulder. His eyes were gleaming with what looked like tears, but she could never be sure. “ …How much do you know? How do you know? Who told you?”

“ADVENT knows all.” He said, his hands in the air. “I know that your name is not really Jane. I know that your mother abandoned you. I know where she is.”

Jane felt her hands starting to shake--probably from holding the gun up for so long. “You…you know? You know where she is?”

“Dax́iiu knows too.” He said. “He wants to help you.”

Jane snarled. “That weasel needs to pick a side and stop sitting on fences.” She hissed. “Mother can wait that long, if he keeps wanting to drag his heels.”

“But she can’t.” The hybrid lowered his hands. “That’s why I came to find you.”

The nearly black horse looked up at Kon-Mai with sad, dark eyes as she approached. In her arms, she held a knitted saddle blanket and a pair of reigns, and as she drew close to him, his ears folded against his head.

“Aisha, are you certain?” Kon-Mai turned to the woman who was already seated on her own horse. “He looks forlorn.”

“Do not force him.” Aisha assured her. “But…you’re doing well. He doesn’t seem agitated.”

Kon-Mai looked back to Nergui, whose ears perked up slightly as she did. They locked eyes again, and she set down her tackle and approached him slowly, hands out, just as she was.

“You were her horse.” She said softly, reaching out ever so tentatively. “You were Monkh’s horse”

Nergui let out a soft nicker and shook out his tangled mane, turning away from her.

“I know you must miss her.” She continued. “I am no substitute. I am not Monkh.” With barely a touch, she put her hand on his nose, and gasped as she felt its velvety softness. “But I…I want to…” What did she want?

Nergui knew far better than her, obviously. He responded to her touch by pressing his nose forward into her palm, then stepping forward and bobbing his head slightly, as if telling her to pet him. She stroked his nose while he brayed happily, closing his eyes and turning his face up towards the sun.

“I had a feeling!” Aisha called to her. “Do you need help with the tackle gear?”

“No.” Kon-Mai said, far too quietly. “No, I’ll be fine!” She reached down for the saddle blanket (forgoing the actual saddle, as she was far too tall for any of them) and then picking up the bridle and placing the metal bit in her palm, gently holding it against his lips, waiting for him to bite. And bite he did, taking the bit from her with the kind of ease that could only come from years of trust.

“Do you need a leg up?” Aisha called after her again, crawling closer on her horse.

Kon-Mai gave her a look. “At your height? Do not try it.” She walked around Nergui’s side, heaping her hand on his neck the whole time. “I’ll be alright.” She bent one knee slightly, throwing her arm over the top of his neck, and ran forward, kicking up and over his back and landing, seated, on the saddle blanket, pulling herself upright into a sitting position.

She straightened up, shaking out her hair, and noticed Aisha staring at her. Her expression was…unreadable, but her mouth was set in a thin line.

“What is wrong?” Kon-Mai took hold of the reigns.

“Nothing, just distracted…” Aisha turned her own horse towards the gate. “Have you hunted before?”

“Not like this.” Kon-Mai chuckled, feeling Nergui paw at the ground excitedly. “But I am always ready to learn.”

For once, Betos found herself really wishing Geist was here, if only so she didn’t have to feel like the odd one out.

Drakaina and Volk each sat on an arm of Drakaina’s throne, passing a glass of vodka back and forth between them as they chatted in their native tongue, completely acting as though Betos did not exist. She understood the hesitancy to discuss anything more serious before Senuna arrived, but occasionally they would glance pointedly in her direction and Betos, despite being invited here, felt as though she was intruding.

Part of her wanted to leave, just walk right out and communicate the level of disrespect that she felt. But as soon as she gathered up the strength to turn on her heel, the doors opened and Senuna walked in, flanked by Bradford.

“Sorry about that!” She giggled, flipping her silver hair. “I was sure I had enough time for a quick nap and well, time got away from me.”

“It’s fine, you are here now.” Betos grumbled and turned to Drakaina, who stood so Volk could keep his seat on the arm rest.

“I brought you all here to discuss preparations on an outpost attack.” Drakaina said. “We have discovered ADVENT has a city center near Erdenesant, that is small enough that my army could take it, if we had help.”

“Hold on.” Bradford held up a hand. “You said no city centers.”

“I said settlements.” Drakaina clarified. “This is technically one of those. The center was constructed only a month ago and its defenses are still incomplete until more troops can be allocated.”

“Commander.” He looked to Senuna. “Back me up here.”

“How big is the settlement?” Senuna asked. “City centers aren’t usually small. I’ve been to plenty, trust me.”

"It has a population of about 3,000 people, and as of right now about half as many hybrid soldiers guarding them.” She looked to Betos. “Guards that, perhaps with your help, could be made to quietly walk away.”

“We said we weren’t taking on a city center.” Bradford insisted. “Infiltration is one thing. This is an all out attack.”

“This is our chance to save these people.” Drakaina insisted. “Or would you rather they starve under the tyranny of our invaders?”

“I’d rather we not lose this war by getting our skulls dashed against the sidewalk while the general population cheers.” Bradford crossed his arms. “And answer me this: how do we convince them we’re the good guys? I’m not just talking about the soldiers; the civvies are going to be terrified if we run in there guns blazing to drag them from their homes.”

Drakaina seemed to hesitate a bit, and then Senuna interjected, looking toward Bradford. “I might be able to convince them to come quietly. And I could evacuate the city before the attack happens.”

“I’m not sending you back in there, Sunny.” He hissed. “Not a chance.”

“A leader should fight on the field with the rest of her warriors.” Drakaina insisted. “I have heard tales of your great power, Commander.”

“I won’t have to get close.” Senuna assured him. “Just enough to project my voice.”

Betos chuckled nervously. “You plan to perform a concert?”

“Who knows? Maybe I have some fans in the city~” Senuna winked. “But Drakaina does have a point. If the city center is that small…it’s conceivable that we could crack it. And--I’ll be honest--taking on a city center is risky business, but if we have a chance to help people get out of there...”

Bradford looked away, glowering at Senuna’s answer, while Drakaina smiled. Her nearly white eyes seemed to glitter. “I see why you are the Commander, you know exactly what must be done.” Drakaina looked back at Volk. “Your Reapers are very good at remaining unseen.”

“I’ll have Elena take a couple and scout out any weak points.” Volk stood up and downed the rest of his vodka. “I know it’s a scary concept, John, but it’s about time we start taking the fight to the Elders. Can’t play defense forever.”

“Does Zhang know you’re talking to me?” Jane asked, glancing sideways at T8Y47. The hybrid held the door open for her, gesturing for her to continue. When she hesitated, he entered first.

“Nobody knows.” He answered. “Chilong and Taymallat are...focused. On other things. Not you.”

“I’m focused on the mission, too.” Jane said. “This is a side quest at best.”

“You have been searching for so long.” T8Y47 led her down a hallway similar to the one in the penthouse, but instead of gold, this one was lined with silver and marble and dark green gems. “And you came all this way. I understand why. I understand you want to know.”

Jane scoffed. “Yeah, sure you do.”

“I do.” He insisted. “I had a mother too.”

Jane stopped. “So you’re one of the ones they ‘rewarded’, huh?”

He slowed his pace, probably realizing she was no longer following him.

“Do you remember your family at all?” She asked. “Do you remember your mom?”

He shook his head. “I do not know if she lived or died. I do not know if she would want to see me again. I only have the memory of her smile, a faint outline of light in a dark void..”

Jane swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not a therapist but…” She said softly. “...You should find her.”

T8Y47 stopped briefly in his tracks at that, looking back at Jane with black eyes.

“I’m serious.” Jane insisted. “Hey, if you’re helping me find my mom, maybe I’ll help you find yours.”

He kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. “...You would do that for a stranger?”

She shrugged. “I repay kindness. I know I don’t seem like I do but…I will.”

T8Y47 stood still for a moment longer…and then put his hand on the glass doorknob. “You will find what you seek in here.”

“Thank you.” Jane stepped in front of him, her heart pounding, her hands shaking. “...What’s your name?”

“I have no name.”

“When I’m done in here, I want you to have thought up a name.” She looked back at T8Y47 and winked. “See you in a bit.”

Jane hadn’t had time to prepare for this at all, this moment was supposed to be magical, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself a child once again, running across marble floors to finally land in her mother’s arms…

The door swung open and she stepped inside, her heart instantly dropping as she saw the spacious, dark, nearly empty interrogation room. Across the wall, rows upon rows of televisions blinked, cameras scanning what looked like a prison. In front of her was a desk, and at the desk sat a slimy looking man, smiling behind his sunglasses.

“Hello Jane.” The Speaker said as the door closed behind her. “...Or should I call you Sinéad? It’s such a pretty name.”

The wind in her hair, whipping past her face, tickling her cheeks, the sound of Nergui’s hooves thundering against the ground hard enough to shake the mountains around her…

Kon-Mai hadn’t felt such joy in years. She threw her head back, looking up to the golden sun glowing through the clouds, just as a purple arrow whizzed past her head. She looked behind her as Aisha cried out “Sorry!”

Tugging the reigns to one side, Kon-Mai moved out of the way just enough for Aisha to ride past and hold out her hand, calling the arrow back to her and scooping up the animal she had killed with it. She checked it briefly, then gave Kon-Mai a thumbs up. “Instant!”

“You are quite talented!” Kon-Mai cried, guiding Nergui over to her companion.

“Speak for yourself.” Aisha chuckled. “I didn’t know you could ride so well.”

“I’ll be honest, neither did I.” Kon-Mai leaned down and patted Nergui’s neck, and he whinnied happily at her touch.

“He’s…not usually this happy.” Aisha added. “After Monkh died…I used to try and take him out, he refused to go each time.”

“You were the one who offered for me to take him.” Kon-Mai raised a brow. “Giving me a troublesome horse on my first ride? Quite irresponsible, Aisha.”

“Well, he’s also one of the biggest ones, I knew he’d be able to hold your weight…” Aisha coughed. “No offense, I mean-”

“I know, don’t worry.” Kon-Mai giggled. “He handles like a dream.”

“I think he just likes you.” Aisha threw her leg over her horse and slid off, taking the reigns in one hand.

“Have you caught all you need for today?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Not yet, but I thought this would be a good place to stretch our legs.” Aisha said as she drew her sword. “You could show me a few tricks.”

Kon-Mai raised a brow. “That is incredibly foolish of you.” She said as she slid off Negui’s back. “My sword never misses a target.”

“Then I’ll have a real challenge.” Aisha shrugged. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“You can’t get such a challenge elsewhere?” Kon-Mai asked as she let Nergui to a green looking patch of land.

“Perhaps I could.” Aisha shrugged. “But why not you? And besides, we’re all the way out here.”

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” Kon-Mai smirked as she unsheathed her sword.

“And I don’t want to be hurt.” Aisha giggled. “So I guess I just have to be good.”

“No!” Jane turned on her heel and slammed her shoulder into the now locked door. “FUCKING BASTARD! YOU TRICKED ME!”

“Sinéad, let’s now make a scene now.” The Speaker stood slowly. “I’m here to help you.”

Jane began searching for screws along the hinges, maybe she could dig them out with her fingernails, but froze as she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“You want to see your mother.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here today, she’s a very busy woman after all, running all those experiments, corrupting the Elders’ hard work, I’m sure it’s a taxing job. But she’s so happy you came all this way just to find her.”

“I don’t believe you.” Jane hissed. “You’re a fucking conman! You tricked me! She’s not actually here, is she? She never was!”

“I think you’ll find my offer is sincere.” His grip on her shoulder tightened. “You’re smart, that much I know, and you’re smart enough to know what I will do if you resist me.”

Jane froze, her body going limp as she let the Speaker guide her back to the table. He sat down across from her, gesturing for her to do the same in the chair provided.

“...How did you find out?” Jane murmured. “I’ve never gone by my birth name.”

“It wasn’t hard to piece together.” The Speaker reached across the table to where the pile of files sat, dragging one over. “Your records may not be public per se, but they were not exactly hidden either. You have a paper trail miles long whether you like it or-”

“Did she tell you?” Jane was afraid to know the answer to that. People cracked under pressure all the time, good people, but after all that if her mother had given her away…

“No, which is no surprise.” The Speaker looked over the top of his glasses, his green eyes boring into her. “Moira Vahlen is not a weak-minded human. She never even mentioned she had a daughter before. But the papers speak for themselves, don’t they?”

Jane felt her shoulders relax and droop, just as the Speaker slid her old, yellowed birth certificate across the table.

“Sinéad Vahlen.” He said, his tongue hissing against his lips ever so slightly. “You’re a very long way from home.”

Two swords clanged against each other, and the frosty air was filled with fire.

Kon-Mai’s eyes were alight, and her hair flew out behind her in a wave of snowy locks. Aisha darted to the side but still had to raise her own blade to parry Kon-Mai’s swipe downward. She blocked it, then her leg bent and she rolled away from under the Shrinemaiden’s pin.

“You fight well.” Kon-Mai said with a smile.

“I take a lot of pride in that.” Aisha got to her feet with a smile and twirled her blade in two circles, almost mimicking Kon-Mai’s own movement with her blade. “All those years of training, I would hope I’m good.”

“You…” Kon-Mai shifted backward again, getting back into her stance. “You have a good disposition for combat. Loose, almost casual, but not so easily distracted!” She dipped and darted forward, and Aisha barely had time to bring up her blade in a parry once again. She slid backward briefly, putting one hand down to steady herself, and then ducked away, letting Kon-Mai’s sword embed itself in the ground.

Aisha rolled into a standing position and plunged her blade into the ground, a purple glow emanating from her eyes. “You’re as nimble as they say, Shrinemaiden.” She drew her blade back, carving a curve into the ground, with a cloud of pink dust rising up around it. “Let’s see how you dodge this!”

Kon-Mai could only brace herself against the...wave of psionic energy that crashed over her, sending her to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, mind and heart both racing.

How did Aisha know that? That was her move. That was her Harbor Wave.

When she heard footsteps approaching, she looked up and saw Aisha was holding out a hand to her, but Kon-Mai only stared up at her in shock.

“How do you know that move?” She stumbled to her feet.

Aisha pulled back. “Mai…”

“Don’t call me that.” Kon-Mai hissed. “Just answer me. Where did you learn that?”

“I’m sorry.” Aisha reached out, and Kon-Mai took another step away. “Kon-Mai please-”

“Where did you learn that?!” Kon-Mai shrieked. “Nothing makes sense here. The horses, the language, Nergui acts like he knows me, and now this?! What are you hiding from me?! Who are you?!” Not waiting for an answer, Kon-Mai turned on her heel and began to walk away-

“Wait!” Aisha reached out and grabbed hold of Kon-Mai’s hand, finger’s lacing around hers.

A flash of orange light surrounded them as the sun set, and she grabbed hold of the little girl and lifted her in the air. Her braids flew around her like branches of a tree, and as she spun and the two of them laughed, Monkh felt free.

Kon-Mai pulled her hand away, shaking as she stared at it. Aisha, too, stumbled back, looking down at her hand, then up at Kon-Mai.

“...It…” Aisha shook her head, her lip quivering. “It’s you…it’s really you…it’s impossible but it’s you!”

Kon-Mai took a single step backward, her entire body shaking like a leaf. “...How do you know all this?”

“Monkh.” Aisha put her hand to her face, her lips trembling. “I...I learned that move years ago. From Monkh.”

Kon-Mai turned on her heel and ran. She heard Aisha screaming her name, running after her through the treacherous step, but she simply closed her eyes and ran forward into darkness.

Summary: The chapter begins with Camazotz meeting with the Speaker, reflecting on how the Speaker is the only one of his creations he is actually proud of. The Speaker reports that Zhang, Jane and Annette are in Hong Kong, and that he has a plan to capture them, which Camazotz approves. Afterward the Speaker confesses that people are becoming restless not knowing where the Chosen are, and Camazotz decides to enlist the help of Xezbeth and Tiyanak.

In Karakorum, Kon-Mai is helping Aisha style her hair and put it up under her hijab, and the two talk briefly about how Aisha is seen as different from the others, and some believe she did not truly earn her place as Jinong. Aisha offers for Kon-Mai to come hunting with her, and suggests she takes Nergui, the old Jinong’s horse.

Dhar-Mon returns from his trip to the mines, and Malinalli welcomes him home. The two quietly discuss what Dhar-Mon saw there, while helping to unload the Elerium harvested from the mine. Dhar-Mon and Malinalli make plans, in secret, to return to the mine again.

Betos meets with Drakaina and Volk, and feels left out while they wait for Senuna, the two actively talk with each other and ignore her. When Senuna finally joins them, Drakaina confesses she wants to attack a (small) city center. While Bradford is hesitant, Senuna agrees to help

In Hong Kong, Jane takes a break from her current dwellings to walk around the city, and is stopped by the hybrid assistant of Dax́iiu, T8Y47. He tells her he knows what she is seeking, and that he can help her find her mother. T8Y47 leads Jane back to the hotel, where he double crosses her and locks her in a room with the Speaker, who reveals that they discovered her true identity: Sinéad Vahlen, daughter of Moira Vahlen.

Back in Mongolia, Kon-Mai and Aisha have success in hunting, and Aisha comments on how good a rider Kon-Mai is. The two stop briefly to practice swordwork together, and after a brief battle, Aisha uses Kon-Mai’s own Harbor Wave attack, which scares the latter. Demanding to know where she learned that, Aisha reveals she learned it from Monkh, the previous Jinong, and then grabs Kon-Mai’s hand, triggering what seemed to be a flashback. Kon-Mai pulls her hand free and runs away, overwhelmed.

(I know it’s been a while, thank you all so much for sticking with me again. This time, it really is more health problems getting in the way of me writing, but I assure you I’m still very passionate about this story. I thank the SFTD Discord for keeping me grounded in that aspect, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was kind of short, but we got a lot of big reveals in this one.~)

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom fanfiction #xcom au #chosen stories

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apocryphalfemme · 4 years ago

Text

Designatory Date Night

Well, I lied. I finally played Mass Effect: Andromeda a week or so back and I’m here to report that I love Vetra Nyx so completely that I was inspired to write some simply brain-rotting fluff. (An entire two years ahead of schedule, I know!) Und so, I give you Designatory Date Night. Read it below the cut, or on AO3.

Love,

Clithroe

““Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...” As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up. “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.””

Ryder leverages the privileges of her job to show Vetra a good time.

“Anwar, what the hell am I looking at?”

“It appears to be a... a solar system, Pathfinder,” Suvi murmured. “The solar system, in fact. I believe we’ve found Avaarus.” Ryder drummed her fingers against her console, brimming with nervous anticipation.

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere. We’re not even in Heleus space anymore, right Kallo?” she asked.

“Confirmed, Pathfinder. We’re in deep space, just a ways outside of home. I should mention that the next known celestial cluster is the Boone Traverse and we’re not getting anywhere near there without a mass relay,” Kallo said. “Whatever this is, it’s a lone entity.”

“So... what?” Ryder breathed, disbelieving. “Heleus just lost an entire star and a handful of planets? Did it wander off when the angara weren’t looking or something?”

“Ryder,” Suvi piped up. “It’s possible that what we’re seeing here is one of the more dramatic effects of the Scourge. If Avaarus really was originally located where angaran maps say, then the system may have been wholly ejected from the cluster as the Scourge spread.” Their pilot chirped an incredulous noise.

“Is that even possible?”

“Come on Kallo, two whole years in Andromeda and you’re still asking questions like that?” Suvi teased. Kallo cut back with something sarcastic, but Ryder wasn’t listening; her attention had been caught by what was orbiting their runaway star.

“Okay, no, that can’t be right. Avaarus is supposed to have four orbiting bodies. That,” she pointed, “is at least seven.” That got their attention. Kallo and Suvi’s conversation petered out as they each ran their own, individual counts of this bizarre, seemingly truant system. Kallo was first to break the silence.

“With eyes alone, I’m actually counting nine, Pathfinder”

“I think I’m seeing thirteen,” Suvi reported. SAM’s vox crackled to life over the bridge speakers, only to prove them all wrong.

“Pathfinder, there are at least sixteen distinguishable celestial bodies orbiting this star.” Kallo gaped, shocked into silence. Suvi giggled, a tad manic. Ryder swore.

“Holy shit. SAM, what… are they? Where did they come from?”

“The majority appear to be planets in varying states of compositional decay, Pathfinder. Preliminary scans indicate that many may have once been capable of bearing life. Cross-referencing with what remains of old angaran star charts and the inferable ejection path of the star Avaarus, I believe it is possible that we have discovered what happened to several planets that the angara report as having mysteriously disappeared over the last several centuries.”

“Holy shit,” Ryder swore again, for good measure. “So if this really is Avaarus… I guess our friend here decided it wasn’t going out alone, huh? Stole a few planets on the way out the door.”

“Ryder, the implications of this are incredible,” Suvi babbled, ecstatic. “We knew the Scourge was powerful, but to learn that it can generate gravitational effects significant enough to move entire stars… forget terraforming, this is stellaforming!”

“Tann’s going to have an aneurysm,” Ryder chuckled.

“Don’t forget why we’re here, guys. We’ve still got a job to do,” Kallo said, gently reminding them of their purpose in hunting down this most elusive system.

“Right, yes.” Ryder ran a hand through her hair before tapping her mic. “Jaal, can you come up to the bridge? I think we may have found what we’ve been looking for.” Their resident angaran’s voice crackled immediately back.

“Oh, really now? Of course! On my way, Ryder.”

“God, it isn’t half pretty, is it?” murmured Suvi, completely ignoring her instruments panel in favor of staring at the solar system projected before them with a slightly glazed look.

Ryder had to admit that her science officer’s assessment was dead on: Avaarus was a gorgeous system and that was putting it lightly. Around the titanic, vividly blue-white star, sharply violet shades of gas spiraled out in a tight corkscrew. At the edge of the heliosphere, thousands upon tens of thousands of asteroids spun in a truly magnificent debris disk. All throughout, a plethora of mostly ringed planets hung suspended in the void, bathed in astral gases, caught in the midst of their aeons-long cosmic dance. It was a perfect celestial tableau. The fact that Ryder had seen dozens of equally stunning systems did nothing to detract from the moment; this sort of thing was enough to steal the breath from your lungs and, for her, it still did, every time.

Vetra would love this, she thought. Before that particular idea could go anywhere, however, the quiet reverie they had fallen into was interrupted by the opening whoosh of the bridge doors.

“Alright Ryder, show me what you’ve got!” Jaal called cheerily, sauntering up to them. Ryder turned and grinned.

“Hey, Jaal. Allow me to present, for your consideration... the long-lost Avaarus system!” she said, spinning back to fling her arms wide. “Or at least, we think it is.” Jaal laughed.

“It’s a start, to be certain. Any luck in finding the colony?”

“Anj Guhloan was supposedly on the fourth planet from Avaarus, right?”

“Correct.” Ryder hummed an acknowledgement and cast a critical eye upon the projection.

“Right, then. SAM, scan everything that could be big enough for an angaran settlement to hide on. With all the crap this star picked up on the way out, who knows if Avaarus IV is still where it should be.” Only after the merest second of delay, her AI chirped his response.

“Done. I have identified what may be the remains of an angaran satellite in orbit around the fifth planet.”

“Bingo. Kallo, I know this place is a minefield, but can you get us in closer?”

“Oh, please,” Kallo scoffed. “I could fly through this blindfolded.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, I’d rather not be on the ship while you attempted it,” Jaal protested. Kallo chuckled to himself.

“Have it your way. Approach vector clear, Pathfinder; taking us in.” The ever-present hum of the drive core pitched up a little as Kallo wove through the debris disk and into the core of the heliosphere. Ryder had to hand it to him: while he could be a little over-sure at times, he was, inarguably, a pilot of sterling quality. The Tempest progressed at a healthy pace through a chunk of space so dense with detritus that a lesser navigator would have been reduced to crawl.

It was only a few short minutes before they were close enough to the planet in question for Suvi to start taking more detailed scans. Ryder was less than thrilled to see her science officer’s face falling as she pored over her gathered readings.

“That’s not a happy expression, Anwar. What are you getting?” Suvi muttered something unintelligible and tapped her mic to ping their AI.

“SAM, can you get me a scan of the star, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Anwar.” As her eyes flicked across the new influx of data, Suvi spat something foul.

“Keep us in the loop, Suvi, what have you got?” Ryder asked.

“Bad news, I’m afraid.” Suvi twisted in her seat to face them. “It looks like the star Avaarus is well on its way to becoming a superluminous supernova; this system’s going to go off like a firecracker sometime in the next couple centuries. Avaarus IV - or, Avaarus V now, I guess - if it ever really was Anj Guhloan, has been a molten, liquid hunk of rock for a long time now. I’m sorry, guys. The planet’s cooked.” A hand pressed to her forehead, Ryder sighed.

“Damn. I’m sorry, Jaal. That is not the news I wanted to give the angara.” She was surprised when Jaal smiled at her, apparently far less distraught than she had expected.

“Do not worry, my friend. The angara, myself included, have accepted that, between the Scourge, the kett, and our own occasional stupidity, many of the settlements that once were are now undoubtedly gone. Though I am disappointed the lost colony of Anj Guhloan was not waiting for us, I am thankful to have borne witness to its fate. The angara who lived here will not be forgotten, for we now know what happened to them.” Ryder smiled wistfully back.

“Well, I’m glad we could at least give you that. SAM, send a report to Aya and update the Initiative’s maps.” Ryder rolled her neck, eliciting a disconcerting crack in the process. She groaned. “And on that note, I think we’re done for the day. Kallo, Suvi, go eat something and get some sleep. And…” she trailed off as she checked her omnitool. “Oh my god, guys, tell me when we’ve been going for longer than eight hours!” Kallo and Suvi, now standing and working out their own muscular kinks, looked at her in surprise.

“I, uh… I didn’t notice, Pathfinder,” Kallo murmured.

“How long have we…?” Suvi asked.

“I believe you three have been up here flying for more than ten hours, actually. Last I checked, that is,” Jaal said, grinning. Head cradled in her hands, Ryder heaved another groan, this one infinitely more weary than the last.

“Then remind me instead to set an alarm next time, or something. Alright, clear the bridge you lot, I’m going to get enough hell as it is from Lexi about overworking you.”

“Oh, come on, Ryder,” Kallo argued.

Suvi cut over him, to say: “This is what we signed up for!” Ryder pointed at the door, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Out, now! Food and then bed; we can poke around the system in more detail tomorrow. Jaal, make sure they get some of that roast Drack made yesterday down their throats?”

“You’ve got it, Ryder.” Saint that he was, Jaal gently but firmly shepherded her protesting bridge crew out and down to the galley. The door slid shut behind them, leaving the Pathfinder by herself.

Sometimes, you don’t realize how tired you are until you’ve a second to yourself; the newfound silence afforded Ryder both a blissful moment of recuperation and the recognition of the fact that she was, indeed, knackered. She stretched her arms - damn, if she wasn’t stiff - and turned her attention back to the now rediscovered Avaarus system. Exhausted as she was, she didn’t quite want to leave it yet, especially for something so trivial as sleep. (Yes, she was entirely a hypocrite). There was something equal parts forlorn and magical about watching the silver-blue star floating alone in the void; so far away from everything. And yet, as if in defiance of its exile, Avaarus burned all the more beautiful. Though, it wasn’t really alone, was it? It had its stolen planets to comfort it through the coming explosion. In much the same way as the ultimate fate of Anj Guhloan was beheld by Jaal, so too would the fate of Avaarus be beheld by its stolen audience. It was a strangely reassuring thought. As she gazed at the plethora of elliptical orbiters, a thought occurred to her.

“Hey, SAM.”

“Yes, Ryder?”

“What’s the plan for these planets?”

“Initiative protocol dictates that they be scanned, designated, and marked on Initiative maps. Planets of note - those that could be potentially habitable or those with valuable resources - will be highlighted and the relevant officials made aware of their existence. In the case of these particular planets, considering they are molten slag bar none and located a significant distance from the Heleus cluster, it is unlikely the Initiative will take any interest beyond the academic. There may be some investigation into the stellaforming effects of the Scourge, as Ms. Anwar puts is it, but that is where it will likely end.”

“So this is as far as things go for them, huh? At least, as far as we’re concerned?”

“That is correct, Pathfinder. The Initiative has more immediate concerns.”

“That’s kind of sad. Something so beautiful deserves a bit more attention than... wait, SAM, what exactly are these planets being designated?”

“I have tagged the orbiting bodies, in order, as H-977, H-978, H-979a, H-979b, H-.” Before he could get too far into his alphanumeric monologue, Ryder cut him off.

“Okay, right, thanks SAM.” Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she stared off into space, thoughtful.

“Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...” As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up. “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.”

“Ah. I believe I understand. Would you like me to ask Ms. Nyx to come up to the bridge?”

“Nah, I’ll go grab her.” Ryder turned around and made for the door, but was arrested in her escape by SAM once more.

“Have fun, Ryder.” Ryder beamed.

“Thanks, buddy.”

With a hop, skip, and a slap to the face to keep herself awake, Ryder was away. She didn’t bother with the ladder to the lower deck - as she jogged onto the clear plex of the catwalk, she unceremoniously jumped off the side to land on the ground below. A combination of her biotics and sleep deprivation was enough to negate the jarring impact entirely and in the span of a heartbeat, she was off down the hall. As she hustled past the med bay, she caught at the very edge of her vision Lexi’s head poking out to investigate the noise.

“Ryder, what on earth did you just-.”

“No time, doc! Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Ryder, you know full well that your telling me not to worry about something only ever makes me worry more!” But Ryder was gone and heading into the cargo bay before Lexi could get too far into giving a proper scolding. Lucky for her, it looked like just about everyone else was asleep - no one was around to see her eager jog over to what had become Vetra’s office.

Slowing to a stop, Ryder took a moment to catch her breath. She didn’t want to look excessively keen - though in a committed relationship she and Vetra may have been, she still had a calm and collected reputation to maintain. It didn’t matter that Vetra knew it all to be, by and large, a conscious affect: it was the principle of the thing. The Pathfinder was always composed - even in the face of giddying affection. Once she had herself together, Ryder headed in. The door slid open to reveal Vetra hunched over a mess of crates. She was, quite impressively, stacking them with just the one hand while simultaneously checking them against the list projected on her omnitool, all while muttering obscenities under her breath. Ryder crossed her arms and leaned against the frame, indulging in having caught her partner unawares and in her element. Vetra was much more relaxed when other people - Ryder aside - weren’t around and it gave Ryder a sort of tender joy to see her so at ease. But of course, such sappy sentiments would never stop her from teasing her girlfriend, not at all. As Vetra straightened back up, Ryder announced her presence in as serious a tone as she could fake.

“Ms. Nyx, your assistance is urgently required on the bridge.” Vetra turned around to meet Ryder’s gaze, crossing her own arms in the process.

“Is it now, Pathfinder?” she said, with a poorly constrained smile.

“Indeed. Life and death situation; fate of the cluster at stake. The usual.”

“Mmm, I’m sure. Unfortunately for you, Ryder, it just so happens that I’m currently having the time of my life processing requisitions. Can your little ‘situation’ measure up to the sheer euphoria of cataloguing rolls of toilet paper?” Vetra deadpanned the statement so completely that Ryder found herself staring at her partner in disbelief, mouth dropping. Vetra, clearly delighting in Ryder’s bewilderment, had the gall to wink at her. Too tired to retort, Ryder finally broke. She sprang forward, proffering a hand and letting all her excitement shine past the bit.

“Oh my god, come on already, you silly turian, I want to show you something!” Vetra smiled in turn and reached out to take said hand.

“Yeah, alright, I was getting pretty sick of checking for delivery discrepancies anyway. So what have you - whoah!” As soon as she had a hold on her, Ryder tugged Vetra into a jog, pulling her out of the office and around onto the cargo lift. She punched the ascent and the thing began its slow, clunky climb. Unfortunately, slow and clunky was something of an understatement; Ryder found herself tapping her foot with impatience as they rose ploddingly.

“Excited, are we?” Vetra poked.

“Trust me, babe, you’re going to love this.”

“If it’s whatever’s responsible for you smiling like this, then I’m sure I will.” Vetra slung an arm around Ryder’s shoulders, who in turn threw an arm around Vetra’s waist; overt affection came more easily when they were alone. Additionally, being wrapped around each other had the added benefit of slowing Ryder down a bit: pulled close to Vetra’s side, she was forced to adopt a slightly more sane pace as they made their way back through the ship and up to the bridge. Ryder didn’t mind. It was totally worth trading speed for. When they eventually came up on the bridge doors, Ryder called a halt before they could enter.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I did it that time you tried to kill me with a blackened piece of cow.”

“Fair point.”

“Look, I’d cover them for you if I could, but I can’t help the fact that you’re absurdly tall.” Vetra grinned evilly down at her.

“Well, I can’t help the fact that you’re a shrimp. And don’t pretend you don’t love it, short stack.”

“Yeah, I do, now close ‘em, Nyx!” Ryder muttered, her face flushing a little as Vetra eyed her. Apparently sufficiently appeased, her partner deigned to close her eyes. Ryder guided her temporarily sightless charge through the doors and to the fore of the bridge. With her implant, she signaled SAM to collapse the navigation panel and guided Vetra to sit on the now available ledge before joining her by her side.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.” Vetra did so and promptly gasped.

“Oh, wow.”

“Right?”

“That’s...”

“Right?!”

“Hot damn, Ryder. That’s gorgeous.” Ryder hummed an affirmation, thoroughly pleased with herself. “You know how to pick ‘em, babe.”

“What can I say? I’ve got exceptional taste in star systems.” Vetra elbowed her affectionately.

“You sure do.”

“So... do you wanna name them?” Vetra spluttered, incredulously amused.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious!”

“Ryder, is that even something you’re allowed to do?”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m the Pathfinder. If anyone can get away with naming a couple of planets, I think it’s me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Vetra shook her head, but Ryder knew she just about had her. Her partner just needed the right incentive.

“I’m giving you dibs on naming the first one.” That got her. Vetra opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and peered curiously into space.

“Which one’s that?” Ryder snorted and pointed.

“Purple-blue ice giant with the three moons, very edge of the heliosphere.”

“Oh, you spoil me.”

“I try. So, give us a name! What are you thinking?”

“Hmm. I’m thinking… Not Dead Yet.” Ryder stifled a chuckle.

“Why that?”

“Looks like it’s almost been ejected from the system, but the big bastard’s clinging on something fierce.”

“A name the Initiative can relate to, I’m sure.”

“That’s the idea. Alright, your turn, oh mighty Pathfinder. What’re we going to call that one?” The planet in question was a chthonian-in-progress; a gas giant in close orbit to Avaarus, its emerald-colored atmosphere in the process of being stripped away to reveal the molten aluminum-iron core.

“Stinky.” Vetra burst out laughing.

“What?! You’re messing with me.”

“Look at it! That thing is trailing bright green gas like no one’s business.”

“Ryder, I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that’s burning atmosphere.”

“Yeah and it’s stinking up the neighborhood as it goes.” Vetra heaved a much-put upon sigh, but the breadth of her toothy turian grin and the fluttering of her mandibles betrayed her amusement.

“Alright, fine. Stinky it is. Which one next?”

“That one. Whatcha got?” The planet Ryder was indicating was another gas giant, though this one was significantly prettier than the newly-dubbed Stinky. Ivory clouds of gas billowed across it, cut though with the occasional twisting carmine storm. It was a bloody, alabaster gem, stark against the black. Vetra considered it thoughtfully.

“Would I sound crazy if I said it kind of looks like my sister?”

“Y’know... no, I see it, it kind of does.” Ryder and Vetra gave each other a dubious, slant-eyed look at exactly the same time and erupted in giggles.

“Spirits, babe, Sid’s going to flip if I tell her I named a planet after her!”

“All the more reason to do it!” Vetra huffed.

“Screw it. Planet, I dub thee Sidera.”

“She’ll be thrilled.” Falling victim to a yawn of massive proportions, Ryder leaned her head against Vetra’s shoulder and fought to keep her eyes open. “Go on, you can do the next one too.” Vetra cast her eyes around the system, searching for her next victim.

“How about that protoplanet?” she asked. As Ryder murmured her sleepy approval, Vetra curled an arm around her. “Well, as long as I’m being all sentimental… Prag’rath.” Ryder scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Prag’rath?”

“The batarian mercenary who taught me to shoot.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“She’d kick my ass for it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Though there were yet planets in need of names, tiredness and the sheer splendor of the system had Vetra and Ryder lapsing into a warm and comfortable silence, pressed close together. The Avaarus system slowly and silently spun before them, its striking beauty framed by the stars so incredibly remote in the distance.

“Is this something normal couples do?” Ryder asked. Vetra peered down at her.

“Naming planets? I mean... no, probably not.” Vetra brought Ryder’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But I’d like to think it’s very us. This was a lot of fun, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m glad.” Ryder settled further against her partner and finally stopped fighting the exhaustion of the day, letting her eyes droop shut. Though already half-asleep, she whispered, “Vetra?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.” The last things Ryder registered before finally succumbing to sleep were the pale, sparkling light of Avaarus and Vetra’s voice, murmuring in her ear.

“I love you too.”

#clithroeshewrites #vetra nyx #mass effect: andromeda #me:a #vetryder #ryder #mass effect #fanfiction #hey look my motivation came back

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connorspiracy · 4 years ago

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Don’t Let The Street Bugs Bite || Connor & Shiloh

Timing: Current Location: Downtown Parties: @connorspiracy & @evanescentform Content: Bug monsters, insects, their skittery little legs Summary: There’s cracks in the ground with insect monsters in them. That sucks.

Strangeness in White Crest was par for the course, so much so that the absence of strangeness would in itself be strange. Connor kept his proverbial ear to the ground, always on the message boards looking for news, rumours, or anything that might prompt him to investigate. December had itself on overboard already and they weren’t even a week in. He’d heard of cracks opening up around main street and strange insects appearing. Connor had brought bug spray and thick clothing, but he didn’t know how much that would help matters. Rio wasn’t able to film right now, thanks to the recent werewolf attack and hospitalisation, so he was alone, narrating to the camera and switching between shots of himself and the cracks. “Hey,” he called, waving at a nearby jogger with a friendly smile. “Do you wanna do a vox pop?”

Early morning was the best time to go for a jog given recent events. Lately Shiloh has been a bundle of nerves anytime she’s in public. She hardly wanted to revert to a hermit so she would more or less take control of that and go out for a short amount of time and then come home. This time she would spend the outing on a jog. She hadn’t done much exercise since she came home and she knew that had a toll on her mental well-being as well. She hadn’t expected anyone to really speak to her and had to do a double take when she noticed someone waving at her. She slowed to a stop, pulling her earbud out. “What was that?” She wasn’t sure she heard him right. In the case she did, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” She did notice the camera however and she hardly wanted to be on camera at the moment but maybe it would be something quick. She didn’t want to be rude after all.

Connor didn't let himself get embarrassed by filming. Yeah, people would look at him weird when he was out there talking to his camera, but he just figured that was their problem. He did get a little embarrassed when he had to approach people though. He'd wanted to head out early so there'd be fewer distractions for the video, but that also meant fewer people to talk to. "Oh, bugger, you were wearing earbuds. I didn't mean to bother you," he said with a polite chuckle. "A vox pop is like... the opinion of the public. Like when you see Joe from Sweansea being asked what he thinks about the club's new mascot on the news." He'd put the camera down for the moment, not wanting to film her unless she agreed. "I'm making a video about the cracks. Have you heard anything about 'em?" He gestured to the strange space in the ground where the road should have been connected.

As he explained what a vox pop was, Shiloh wondered what he could be asking for. Then she turned to look down at the cracks. Come to think of it, she had seen them around town. She just assumed they were normal cracks but… anything in this town was far from normal. “Uh, I - I dunno. I think maybe an underground tree root sprouting out or… or just long overdue maintenance on the streets.” She chuckled, hoping he would find her normal reasonings satisfactory. She pulled out her other earbuds and put them away, giving him her attention. She looked down at the cracks once more, wondering what could have caused it. The way it kind of jutted out made it seem like it was something underground and god knows what might be underneath the city. “What do you think it might be?” She asked, curious of his opinion.

Well, that answer was pretty boring. Connor scrunched his nose, a little disappointed. He wanted to get out here and film something, and this jogger was trying to convince him it was some kind of tree with its roots under the ground. “It’s happening in places where there aren’t any trees around. And people have reported… things coming out of them.” Connor leaned down a little, holding up his camera again to see if he could see anything down there. “White Crest. Pretty much the only explanation anyone needs, isn’t it?” he said with a low chuckle, narrowing his gaze. He was sure he saw something move down there. “Do you see something in there?”

At his rebuttal, Shiloh just looked away and half-listened. She wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince - Shiloh preferred not to let just anyone know she believed in anything other than the normal right off the bat. “Honestly, White Crest nonsense is the reason for just about anything that happens here.” However, she hoped that wasn’t caught on camera considering it seemed a rather harsh thing to say about things like the many deaths and kidnappings that happened within town lines. As he called for her attention she leaned forward, wanting to see if she did catch anything inside the cracks. She didn’t seem to see anything in there. Seeing a piece of upturned gravel, Shiloh kicked it, sending it toward the crack, seeing if that would show that nothing was really down there. In retrospect, it was a completely stupid idea to poke the unknown and she should have known that. The cracks grew bigger and she saw something poke out of the ground. Was that--? Spider leg? She backed up, motioning Connor to do the same until whatever it was emerged.

"Glad you understand," Connor said, only half-joking as she returned his words about 'White Crest Nonsense'. He looked over at her with a small smile, testing the waters. You couldn't exactly blame the Cresters for being so bloody serious, but sometimes they were sooo bloody serious. He watched as she kicked some gravel into the hole. This time, he did have the camera rolling, strapped on a chest holder to leave his hands free. "What the fu--" He scrambled backwards as the long, hairy leg made its way out of the hole, followed by the rest of its insectoid body. "ARGH!" He continued to back up, trying not to trip over his own feet. After seeing people's photos and videos online, he'd opted to bring bug spray, and he unleashed it, which only seemed to irk the thing. It made a strange, skittering sound and its mouth clicked. "Stomp on it or something!"

Shiloh hardly was one to get worked up over a bug but the sheer size of it was more than enough to rattle her. When she saw him spray something in its direction she wondered what it was - either way, it didn’t seem to have any affect on it. Maybe made it a bit angrier. “What was that?” She asked, hoping he got the hint not to use that again. It darted to them which made her back up in reaction. Maybe now was a good time to run. “I didn’t bring my huge spider stomping boots on my run today, sorry.” Shiloh didn’t know how he would even expect her to stomp on it without at least a jump and a spider was much too fast for that. As Shiloh continued walking back her feet got caught on something and she almost tumbled down but caught her footing. Yet, the ground continued to rumble. As she thought about what to do another spider leg shot out of the ground, this time much larger than the one before. “Oh fuck.” She muttered. “C’mon we gotta move out of here!” As she spoke, a larger spider emerged from the ground, kicking up chunks of asphalt.

“Bug spray!” Connor answered, as if that was completely fucking obvious. Ghosts he was completely fine with, but ants the size of hamsters were another matter entirely. He sprayed it continuously until the bottle was empty, then he threw the bottle at it, none of which helped. In fact, it was bringing friends. “Shit, shit, shit, shit--” Connor cursed as he fled from the creatures. “This what you had in mind when you went for a morning run?!” His camera was strapped to his chest in a secure harness, but he still felt it moving and hitting the top of his ribs due to the sheer speed with which he ran. The other creature that had emerged was the size of a small dog, and several more of varying mass skittered behind them. “My car--we can--” He gestured vaguely towards the Jeep Renegade that was parked at the end of the street, scrambling for his keys as they grow closer.

“I was being sarcastic!” Shiloh explained, although was now really a good time to be arguing with someone? Shiloh could just as easily push him into the spiders and save herself! But she wasn’t going to do that because that’s kind of an awful thing to do. “You want to make a run for the car?” Shiloh asked him because if they were going to run now would be the time to do it. They were gaining on them and Shiloh didn’t want to be spider food. Or any kind of food today. “C’mon then!” She urged as she bolted off in the vague direction he gave. Even if she wasn’t heading for it, she’d still outrun them. She had been running for a few seconds before realizing she should have made sure he was right alongside her. She turned to look for him, hoping he was right behind her.

Connor was way too concerned with getting to the vehicle to come up with any kind of snappy response. The insects of varying shapes and sizes had emerged from the hole and were gaining distance on him. Six legs apparently ran faster than two. Shiloh had already been running before he’d even met her, so Connor supposed she must have been pretty good at it, because she practically left him in the dust. His car keys were pressed into the palm of his hand, and he lifted his arm to unlock it as Shiloh grew closer, only to yelp as a pair of pincers or teeth or whatever these bloody things had clamped itself around his ankle. “OW! Hey! Get off!” He tried to hit at it, but his muscles felt heavy. Something was wrong. “He-hel..” He couldn’t even finish the single syllable.

Shiloh’s eyes dropped to him - on the floor. Oh no. No, no, no. She darted back towards him without a second thought, her mind immediately knowing she had to help him. Her own concern for her well-being and safety out of her mind. She tried to help him get up but the spider’s grip on him was strong and it seemed like Connor was going limp. “A-are you okay?” She asked knowing it was stupid considering he wasn’t speaking. She looked down at him and they met eyes. Something was wrong. Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to yank him away from the bug without causing further injury to him she set him down. The large one was coming closer and Shiloh wasn’t going to try and fight that one. Clenching her fists, she swung her leg back and then kicked forward into the spider’s abdomen, sending it flying away. The other spider seemed concerned with its fellow spider’s well-being and started to scurry off in the direction it flew. She looked down at Connor who remained unmoving. “Okay, I’m going to pick you up, alright?” Squatting down, she picked him up (with ease) and continued to head toward the direction of his car.

Connor was fully aware, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He was just frozen, completely helpless as the creatures continued to swarm. This was it, he thought. He was going to fucking die, eaten alive by insect monsters. He heard Shiloh asking him a question, but he couldn’t answer it. He simply hoped the movement of his eyes and the desperation in them said that yes, please, please pick him up. She did, and he felt himself being moved at what seemed to be an impossible speed. Thank god she was one of those buff girls. The world faded into the back interior of his jeep as Shiloh hurriedly placed him there, doors slammed, keys turned in the ignition, and Connor felt himself breathe a sigh of relief as they sped away. If he was the cat, curiosity had nearly killed him.

Shiloh didn’t know where she was going. To the hospital? Was he still breathing? She glanced over before remembering she was driving and should keep her eyes on the road. “I can take you to the hospital, if you’d like. I really don’t know what else to do.” She spoke aloud to him, not expecting a response. “C-Can you grunt or anything? Anything at all to let me know you hear me and you’re okay?” Shiloh asked this time, turning once she was at the light. She looked him over, happy to see he was looking around which meant he was more or less conscious? Shiloh could only hope the hospital might be able to help him in some way. Somehow. Shiloh woke up from her thoughts with a honk from behind her. She looked up and continued driving.

Connor could, in fact, breathe. His eyes and his mouth could barely move, but not well enough to be able to speak. He just closed his eyes so they didn’t get dry and so the movement of the vehicle didn’t make him sick. He let out a sound in response to what Shiloh was saying, a grunt, a grown, a death rattle? He just hoped Shiloh could hear whatever it was over the sound of the road. He didn’t know where she was taking him, but time seemed to drag on and on, as if he’d been this way for hours. By the time the vehicle came to a stop, he thought he could feel his finger starting to twitch. The flashing red and blue lights told him they were at the hospital and he whimpered as the doors opened and medics started talking to him.

“Hey buddy, can you hear me? It’s gonna be alright. Hang in there.”

Bloody hell, this was embarrassing, but he couldn’t do anything to argue. He felt himself being pulled onto a stretcher and his car, and the person who’d been in it with him, faded from view.

#paras #with: shiloh

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petitprincess1 · 5 years ago

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Good Evening Ch10 (Let’s Kill Tonight)

AO3 Link Summary: Alastor goes to wreak some havoc at the warehouse on two unsuspecting guards. How fun :) Words: 2,155 Warning:Warning: Mild gore (at least I think it's mild), violence, blood, amputation (not detailed), death, gun use, burning, and implied cannibalism. ~~~ Alastor had used the backdoor to leave outside of the house, since he heard Charlie getting interrogated by her mother and knew that Lilith seemed to be a shrew lady. The last thing he needed to do was be caught by her, since he knew that she was much more aware than she appeared, especially if Lucifer was any indication. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were fully aware of all that he had done.

No matter, this was something that could be dealt with on a later date. Plus, he wasn’t dense. The creole left a note explaining that he had left something in a previous motel that he stayed in or possibly at the Happy Hotel. Whether or not, they’ll believe it is nothing that he had to worry about at the moment.

Alastor went into his car and looked at his phone, seeing if Husk had responded to him. The man had been around Angelo the longest and may know his password, especially since he’s in charge of keeping track of the guests. Granted, he would be making grand assumptions about his Anthony, but...they were necessary at the moment.

A vibration on his phone caught his attention and Alastor checked the message.

Husker: Why the fuck do you want to know his password? Alastor: Ah! You do know it! Thank goodness that you remain one of my, if not the most, predictable of my friends, Husker. Also, that information is unnecessary. Husker: Any info from you is fucking necessary. Now, what the fuck do you want with it? Alastor: Nice to see your vocabulary remains as limited as usual. If you must know, the ethel had gotten attacked recently and I need to get into this phone. I need to know who hurt him.

As he pulled up into the hotel, Alastor didn’t receive another text from Husk. He assumed that it was going to take a bit more persuading, but he ended up seeing Husk walk up to the car. Al rolled his window down and was about to give a cheeky comment, but Husk tossed a torn piece of paper into the car. He huffed, “Shut the fuck up before I change my mind about you givin’ a shit about anyone. Just leave me out of this. I don’t need to be wrapped up in your shit again. Also, do what you gotta do now and give me the phone afterwards.”

Alastor pouted, “Awww, but what if I need more information?”

The older man rolled his eyes and said, “You won’t. You never were one to forget. ….I’m only doing this for Angelo, not for you. I figured he would be in some deep shit hearing about Val’s death. Just...give them hell.”

The creole grinned coldly up at Husk and chuckled as he typed in the password, “Oh...I plan to.”

Alastor parked his car into the forest nearby and saw an abandoned warehouse about a couple of feet away. Luckily, the plant life was so thick and unkempt that it kept himself fairly hidden. He moved as close as he could without causing too much rustling and saw that there seemed to be at least two people on guard. Seeing them speaking to each other, Al hummed as he moved closer to the miscreants to hear their conversation. The creole truly hated being left out of the loop.

Once he was close enough, he listened to the tanned one complain, “...I’m just saying, man. There ain’t no point. Why do you think it’s just us? No one wants to come to some damn forest. They’re all busy with their, like, ouija boards and...switches...and, I don’t know, jeweling. Stuff like that...look, I got kids, man. I don’t want to waste time with this shit.”

The one that was greying glanced at him and sighed, “You’re a fucking moron. Also, just because there hasn’t been anyone, doesn’t mean that no one will be here. Plus, you think Tony’s family is gonna let Vox off easy. Ya saw how he was when he left. Barely was able to walk. It was surprising watching him start driving-” That was more than enough to assure Alastor that he was making the right decision, not that he had any doubts.

He went back to his car and opened up his trunk. Luckily, he had brought his bag, but he only planned on using his knife for this occasion. No need to set up traps, much harder to clean up the mess. There’s always a stray drop of blood that you always miss. Not to mention that it’s absolute hell to clean in-between the teeth of a bear trap. Al closed his trunk- no, he slammed his trunk as loud as he could, instantly making him hear the two get alerted. Just to add extra flare, the brown-skinned man tossed rocks in two different directions to gain more attention.

Alastor listened to the two whisper to another and scarcely watched them walking toward the forest. Luckily, the woodland was already so dense that he barely needed to hide. These people were just making it so easy for him ~~~ The greying haired man was slowly walking around the woods with a hand on his pistol, ready to pull out his weapon whenever it was deemed necessary. Other than Vox and Val’s crew and a few other associates, no one knew about the location. Well, the forest was pretty well known, but hardly anyone in Eden would go near it. He assumed that it was probably a bunch of kids, thinking that they might be brave or searching for an urban legend or whatever.

Normally, they were told to shoot whoever trespassed, no matter the excuse. However, if they were just kids or teens, the man had no problem with just letting them go with a warning or even threatening to shoot. He was a part of the mafia, but he wasn’t a monster.

The grey haired man jumped at hearing rustling in a bush nearby. He took his gun out and didn’t take the safety off as a just in case. He called out, “Alright, come out slowly and you won’t get a bullet in tha…” He trailed off as a bunny came hopping out from the bush and its little nose twitched up at the guard. The man chuckled, leaned down to the bunny’s height, and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry, buddy. I ain’t Elmer Fudd. You’re safe with me.”

The grey haired man placed a finger to his lips and shushed the rabbit, causing the little guy to bounce away. He gave another laugh as he pocketed his gun and turned to go find the other guard, just to suddenly let out a gurgled, cut-off scream as a knife got embedded halfway into his throat. He trembled as blood slowly came out his mouth, while he choked, staring at a mixed man with a wide smile on his face.

The guard placed a hand weakly onto the well-dressed attacker’s wrist and was about to pull, but the attacker chided, “Ah-ah~! I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s actually far more damaging to pull the knife out, since it tends to cause even more damage. Not a lot of people know that~”

He then winked at the greying man and sliced further up his throat, until he got to the bottom of his chin. The man’s tongue flopped out from the large gash in his throat as blood poured down his neck. Alastor was quick to place his jacket on the forest floor to catch the blood that poured out of the victim’s throat. The guard uselessly tried to stop the bleeding by weakly covering his throat and forcing his hanging tongue back into his mouth.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it did absolutely nothing and the man almost fell to the ground. Thankfully, Alastor was there to help settle the guard onto the ground and slowly placed him onto the jacket. He hummed as he grabbed the jacket and started to drag the man through the forest with one arm, looking at his knife with the other. Al gave a small lick to the blood and small bits of skin on the blade.

He muttered as he licked his lips, “Not bad. A little greasy, but that doesn’t mean it has to go to waste. Why, I bet your tongue would be great in an omelette. Using the right spices, you can easily make it taste like beef! What a wonderful treat to say “thank you”!”

Al kept going on and on as he dragged the dead man back into the warehouse. ~~~ The other guard came walking back into the warehouse when he saw smoke coming from a window. He just assumed that the man put on the large furnace to stay warm. It was pretty cold, after all. He called out to the other man, “Artie, you here? I didn’t see anything! I’m guessing it was just a squirrel or…”

He trailed off and dropped his gun when he saw Artie lying on the ground on a jacket with his throat flayed open, exposing many ligaments, veins, and large chunks of meat. There also seemed to be Artie’s tongue inside of a container that had bloodied water inside of it. The guard covered his mouth and was about to turn to run, but he let out a loud scream as his achilles heel got sliced, rendering his foot useless and making him fall to the floor. He whimpered as he tried to quickly crawl away, ignoring the agonizing, searing pain on his heel and the sound of light, quick footsteps near him.

Alastor walked in front of the guard, causing the crawling man to look up at him. The guard whimpered, “P-Please, d-don’t kill m-me!”

Al crouched down and hummed with a large smile, “Well, you know, I would love to do that, but you hurt someone I really cared about. I-I mean, if you did this to send a message, then...message received” he took the knife out of his pocket and stabbed it through the man’s arm, causing him to scream in pain and tremble more on the ground. Tears ran down his face as his screams made his throat raw.

The guard whined, “Pl-lease, I-I didn’t d-do anything! I-I-I didn’t e-even be-eat the fa- Gah!”

He cried as he got a punch to the face, which that pain paled in comparison to anything else. The creole’s smile grew wider to an almost insane degree as he practically growled, “Don’t...finish that word.”

Alastor looked up at the furnace and huffed as he grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the guard’s arm. The man bit his lip, trying not to cry out more. He gave shuddering whine and tried begging again, “P-Please, don’t kill m-me! I have k-kids, m-man, and a-a wife. I-I swear, I did n-nothing to th- ..An-nthony! Please!”

The creole ignored him as he stuffed the corpse into the flames of the large furnace, breathing in the smell of the quickly burning flesh. He was about to turn to the other man, but jumped as a loud bang happened behind him and felt something graze his cheek. Al blinked as he slowly turned to the man and saw him turning to cock the gun, struggling with his injured arm. He quickly walked over to the guard and stomped on his slashed ankle, snapping the bones and causing a loud wet tearing sound to reverberate throughout the warehouse.

Before the guard could do anything, Alastor grabbed the gun and tossed it away. He huffed, grabbing the man’s uninjured leg and began dragging him away, “I was thinking about letting you live, since I don’t particularly enjoy harming children or hearing their annoying cries. However...now, I need you dead for attempting to kill me! I mean, how rude.”

The guard pleaded as he dug, “No! PLEASE! DON’T! HEEELP! HE-” He got cut off as Al picked up the man and tossed him into the fire on top of the slowly burning corpse. His smile got smaller as it turned more into a relieved one, feeling a sense of catharsis at hearing the guard’s blood-curdling cries as he struggled to get out of the flames.

The creole closed the door to the furnace and left the door open to allow the wonderful aroma of burning cowards stretch throughout the place. He hummed along with the guard’s futile cries, took the tongue in the container, and any evidence that was around, he placed it into his bloodied jacket.

He could leave the tongue at the front entrance, but why leave any clues. Alastor wanted them all to never know what will happen next, just like how his dear Anthony went in unaware. He didn't get to kill the people he was looking for, but it certainly was a start. Al smiled, “Very entertaining, indeed~”

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powerbottomblake · 6 years ago

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RWBY and Masculinity

I love RT’s, and specifically RWBY’s take on masculinity so much. The show subverts all expectations wrt their male characters and their development, which is why the male viewers experience major cognitive dissonance between what they expect and what story is actually being told (and then have the gall to call it bad writing). Under cut because this has gotten so long so fast.

The two main male characters - Sun and Jaune - are subvertions of genre/medium staples.

Jaune specifically hits all the beats of the typical male self-insert in a harem anime: he’s catapulted into a world he knows nothing of, instantly establishes 3 different dynamics with 3 different female characters/archetypes - Cheery, Ice Princess and Hot Tall and Earnest - one of whom he immediately sets his eyes on, he’s surrounded by women that are a whole lot more powerful than he is (and arguably THE most powerful one is instantly drawn to him), he’s essentially powerless and dealing with self-esteem issues and is nondescript enough to be a vehicle for any male viewer to project themselves onto. Which is why you have a good chunk of Jaune’s fandom from V1 being the embodiment of the Venn diagram intersection bewteen weebs and incels like That, and why there’s so much harem fanfic revolving around Jaune.

CRWBY have heavily drawn from anime when making rwby so I don’t think this was coincidental; they laid out the groundworks to subvert a specific trope. Male fans, however, bought into the facade and kept waiting for Jaune to essentially steal the spotlight, be the focal point of several love interests and get a power up that’ll let him be their own power fantasy to boot, but CRWBY took his character in the very opposite direction.

Jaune makes a lot of mistakes but what defines him is how earnestly he learns from them and redeems himself. He apologizes for lashing out at Pyrrha as a result of his own feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness when bullied by Cardin and then accepts her offer to teach him, sincerely taking instruction from her and then taking inspiration from her strength. Once he realizes his seduction skit with Weiss is not only ridiculous but wrong, he instantly changes his approach and prioritizes Weiss’s wants and needs over his, giving her space and knocking sense into Neptune so that Weiss can have her “ideal” date. Jaune doesn’t get embittered about being essentially rejected and most importantly he doesn’t let it affect his relationship with Weiss. Both of them become actual friends from that point on, and we get to see Jaune develop a certain measure of emotional intelligence starting that moment, which becomes part of his skillset and is shown to be part of what makes him a good leader. One of the best examples is how he and Ruby team up in V6E1 to get the hunter on the train to turn the turrets off. Jaune heals the hunter’s wounded arm and gently assuages his fear, in clear contrast with Qrow abrasively manhalding an injured and panicked man and expecting him to comply. The writing essentially puts down the show of arms and props up Ruby and Jaune’s approach; Jaune specifically is the example of masculine leadership the writing looks favorably on.

And that’s the kicker here: Jaune’s strength comes from his set of soft skills as opposed to traditionally portrayed masculine strength, which usually careens into toxic power fantasy land. His whole arc in V1-3 is about learning to shed any distorted notions of chivalry and strength and knowing that his end goal shouldn’t be to become a hero for the sake of it or to live up to societal expectations, but to do what he can and as good as he can for the sake of everyone. Jaune is a good strategist and he knows how to make the best out of everyone’s powers. He’s there to enhance how people use their semblances together. His big power-up, his semblance reveal is basically him getting confirmed for a cross between a cleric and a paladdin (DnD players amongst us please correct me if I’m wrong): he is the ultimate support, acting as a healer and an amplifier to everyone around him, and that’s why he’s a good leader. His power on his own loses its entire meaning: Jaune takes strength from the people he loves and endlessly, earnestly gives back to them, never once stealing the spotlight in combat because that’s not his role and that’s okay.

And as for Jaune’s romantic prospects, think Forever Fall established once and for all that Jaune’s already found the One and I don’t think we’ll see him get any other love interest, especially now that arkos parallels oz/salem and with how vehement CRWBY are about lancaster being platonic.

Now Sun. I want to tackle a specific expectation I’ve seen from male fans and that’s about him becoming more significant to the plot by coleading/leading the new White Fang movement...which would be hijacking Blake’s storyline. Blake is the one with drive and a cause, she was literally born inside the movement and has since seen it get derailed AND was the one to reclaim it from Adam and give it a new vision, as opposed to Sun who apparently wasn’t even aware of the systematic oppression Faunus had to deal with on a daily basis outside of Vacuo. So why is Sun, who has exactly 0 qualifications for this job and no interest in it, still expected to get it by a good chunk of his fans? Aside from the pervasive misogyny permeating fandom culture, there’s a specific trope media has served to us for decades now and that’s of a Semi-Competent Male Hero with his Hyper-Competent Female Side-kick (Vox published an article about it a few years ago and I really recommend checking it out), where a male character who’s semi good at best and not nearly as well-versed into whatever field he shares with his infinitely more competent female sidekick somehow walks in and saves the day and most of the time the female sidekick also, unsurprisingly doubles as a love interest. Time and again, male characters get rewarded for being half as good as their female counterpart at best AND they get the girl most often than not.

But Sun’s whole character is, again, the very opposite of this. Sun never outweighs Blake on her own narrative (as is literal common sense) and shouldn’t be expected to. Sun actually gets schooled into the Faunus cause by his more competent female counterpart, Blake acting as his mentor and introducing him to the fight and why it matters. Blake and Sun basically reenact the plotline of Journey to the West (Sun quite literally references it by calling it a “Journey to the East”) a story whose main character is the legendary monkey king Sun Wukong, who’s the mythical figure Sun’s based on. Sun’s arc about finally knowing the cause and fighting for the right reasons happens thanks to Blake’s guidance - which Sun earnestly complies with and never questions because he knows she’s the expert and he doesn’t usurp that spot from her - and never overshadows her own narrative. Quite the opposite, it builds up to her own arc as a future leading figure of the WF and face of the Faunus cause by having her politicize someone who has no real stakes in this fight even though they should have.

And then even his endeavor with Blake as a love interest falls through, with their relationship getting entirely recontextualized in V4-5 where their dynamic gets rebuilt as a friendship. Incidentally, that’s when it finally starts actually developing, instead of being stuck in the V1-3 limbo of mutual fleeting attraction where they’re constantly missing each other’s cues because they literally do not understand each other on a fundamental level. V4-5 is when Blake understands Sun isn’t what she needs in a romantic partner, but she does need him as a friend and ally. And Sun, whose premise falls in line with the Nice Guy trope, actually subverts it: he never makes Blake’s emotional journey about him, never expects anything in return and gracefully bows out of the narrative (for the time being) without ever pressuring Blake into acknowledging or returning his feelings. He doesn’t agonize over the initial attraction not going anywhere and doesn’t expect to be rewarded for being a decent person; again Blake’s feelings and well-being are his priority because that’s what good friends do. Their relationship developing into a steady friendship is never a point of conflict between them, and it’s actually lived as a positive event for both.

And then, to top it off, CRWBY parsed together every bit of toxic masculinity and wrapped it into a power fantasy package and named the end result Adam Taurus, who’s the absolute worst abusive piece of shit. Adam is every single thing bad about men as a power structure: abrasive, entitled, controlling, takes violence as an indication of power and doesn’t take kindly to his leadership/vision being questionned. It’s not really coincidental that he steals the power seat from a woman and acts like he deserves it in any way. But male fans were so starved for their power fantasy fix and traditionally masculine cool calm collected and complicated male character that they were ready to minimize/outright ignore the abuse he’s put Blake through and just how awful a human being he was just to be able to hard project onto him. And CRWBY’s answer to that is basically this:

TL;DR: RT says if your masculinity isn’t humble, nurturing, supportive, compassionate, selfless and earnest then we don’t want it.

#rwby #my posts #jaune arc #sun wukong #me holding myself at gunpoint: why can't you say what you want in 5 sentences or less #my meta #@ incels watching rwby you've been bamboozled

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critroleing · 5 years ago

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If Campaign 2 went Live in the Middle (like Campaign 1)

Since you guys liked it so much the first time, let’s run through the real world AU where campaign 2 was the one we started in the middle of, but more in depth this time.

There would be a backstory/introduction vid that played in the beginning of episodes and in the break. This is more or less what it would say:

Caleb: All of his backstory will be explained in one chunk, including stuff like the residuum crystals in his arms, his past name, and the concept of scourgers, stuff that was plot twists that came along the way for us. No attention will be paid to how this backstory came out to the characters. Nor who among the characters actually know any of this. We will assume by default that everyone knows.

Nott: this is the story of Veth, mostly. The story of how she got bullied as a child, had a marriage and a baby, got kidnapped and transformed into a goblin but regained her family and now they’re waiting for her in Nicodranas. The story of how she regained them is kind of like the story of how Pike died. Technically it was in game, but it’s so far away it’s essentially backstory.

Beau: The lore we’ve gotten from her is much more sporadic, but they’ll take the pieces of what we have gotten and treat it like the Lore Drops we’ve gotten from people like Caleb and Nott. Her childhood in Kamordah will be explained, along with how she got kidnapped by monks, has a baby brother and mentor named Dairon will all be given as if everyone knows these facts and not like they were carefully dished out to one person here and one person there. (Because of this the fandom’s view of her will be slightly off from who she actually is, and that will lead to a good chunk of fans disliking her, at least until they get the hang of her character.)

Jester will probably be the least affected by this change. We knew her backstory early and met her mother later, which is how this turns out. Her backstory does reach all the way up to include the gnoll follower she met in Asarius and preparations for Travelercon. The Traveler will inevitably turn up somewhere and talk to Jester. He will seem super shady. In other words, nothing much will have changed.

Fjord: Huge changes here. During the time we wouldn’t have seen Fjord has learned who Uk’otoa is, followed him, almost set him free, stopped working for him, lost his powers and started working for another power. That is a lot of developments to be relegated to backstory, and this is on top of the backstory he already had. There will be a brief mention of Fjord having had a different accent in the past, the fandom will not pick up on how big of a deal that is.

Caduceus: His backstory might include the story of the Clays, the Dusts and the Stones, in which case he will feel a lot like Keyleth did. He will sound like he has a Plan, in a way that he did not seem to, watching it episode by episode. We don’t actually know all that much about Caduceus’ personal life, so his backstory presentation might have to go for the big picture stuff.

Yasha: She’ll get her own presentation. We know this because Ashley wasn’t there for the first few episodes of c1 but Pike’s presentation was there anyway. Explanations of her backstory will include Zuala, blacking out and coming to again, the Stormlord, mentions of Obann but not her current situation. That will be explained in the very beginning by Matt, with interruptions form the rest of the gang. The fandom will not understand how serious it is until Yasha comes back.

Molly will not get a presentation. He, in fact, will not be acknowledged until someone makes a reference to him and suddenly the cast will remember that, oh, the audience doesn’t know who he is. The audience understands that this was Taliesin’s previous character, but the extent of his influence on the party will be lost as we have no real feel for Molly’s character or what he could have inspired in others.

Male pronouns will be used when explaining Molly, people will immediately forget that and it becomes pretty common to see and hear Molly depicted as a woman and then people correcting them. The Ruby of the Sea will take some explaining, but she’s definitely one of the people we have to meet as soon as possible. “She’s the best lay ever, you guys,” Laura informs us. We do not get the joke.

Someone remembers Pumat Sol exists. They try to explain him. It’s really hard. Matt does an accent and the fandom enjoys it.

The fact that the Mighty Nein are already established in Xhorhas feels alienating to a lot of viewers. Apparently they’re heroes of the Dynasty? And have a house? With a tree on it? And Beau’s mentor Dairon is there?

So the reason they are heroes is because they gave the Bright Queen some sort of artefact. The fandom is unsure of what it was or where it came from, but it may be that the Empire has another one. The larger lore of how the Dens and Beacons work is largely lost, and with it a lot of understanding about the larger world and the war.

At some point far in the future it comes out that they’ve already met Trent Ikithon, Caleb’s main bad guy. Nothing much seemed to happen. Lots of meta about how that meeting was going to happen has to be thrown out.

Jester has pets. Sprinkle doesn’t get mentioned a lot, but at least he’s on adventures with them. There is also Nugget, who lives Marion and we eventually get to meet. We don’t know where they came from, presumably Jester had them the whole time, like childhood pets.

They also adopted a baby bird for a while. They say it could mimic speech? The people who know what kenku are have their suspicions, everyone else thinks it’s another pet.

Beau has some trauma related to some academic by the name of Professor Thaddeus. Much meta has been written about who he is and what happened between him and Beau.

They know a gentleman who’s blue and sweaty. He is also maybe Jester’s dad. Jury’s out on that one.

The Empire feels so far away, and so Other. People praise Matt for making the humans the bad guys and the Drow the good guys.

The fact that they were pirates once comes up in conversation. A joke is made about it. Nothing is explained.

Eventually it comes out that it had things do do with Fjord’s patron, there was a sexy cult leader pirate with a French accent who Fjord slept with, and they got banished from the pirate island within a day.

They still technically have French accent pirate’s ship. It’s called the Ball Eater. They go there once and we meet the Tortle bagpiper tattoo artist who runs it. His name is Orly. The fandom loses its’ shit.

The ship is named that because of Fjord apparently. He ate some orbs once, so they say.

Fjord also ate a sword once? Was he in a circus? Yasha and that Molly person were in a circus, was Fjord there too?

Jester carries around a an erotica book. Where it comes from no one knows, but it doesn’t seem out of character for her so we roll with it.

They have had an encounter with a dragon, an ancient white one, but they haven’t killed any.

Except maybe they have?

Beau has slept with two (2) whole guest characters.

Jester casts Sending to talk to a guy. Matt answers in a very sexy voice. We think the guy is an NPC. He’s not.

A sweet lady once sent actual letters with actual, physical gifts to them.

After that there are more than a few bets on what other NPC’s are actually guest characters being jaegered for the moment.

Why are they even called the Mighty Nein? The cast explains that it had to do with a session in the early levels when they were rolling a lot of nines, and it sounds funny when Caleb says it. It was probably funny if you were there, but for the fandom it just sounds kinda dumb.

Nott might get some more shipping attention, given that she’s actually a halfling. She also might not, because she’s both married and ugly.

Fjord and Jester still share a deep bond, but the more overt parts of Jester’s crush that were prominent in the earlier episodes seem to have mellowed out by the time we meet them. Fjord and Jester also haven’t, percentage wise, spent more time together as a pair than a group, so that dynamic isn’t really seen. Fjorester exists, but has a very different vibe to it.

Widomauk does not exist.

Beauyasha might exist, if only because they are the only two confirmed wlw in the group. It’s more of an idea until they meet and chemistry can be measured of course.

Beaujester exists, but very much in the ‘look at their emotional chemistry, wouldn’t it be nice’. In a way, not much has changed, you just have less of a basis to ship on.

Fjorclay might be big for a while, given how important Caduceus has been for Fjord’s journey lately.

Videos resurface of the cast playing at home before this campaign became public. Fjord has a Texan accent. Nott calls herself a little goblin girl. That is a really weird Caduceus voice. Life feels strange.

Sam asks Liam on their podcast what would be the worst character to play in D&D, just the worst. Liam suggests goblin. Seems like he was thinking worst as in most morally dubious.

Nott rolls a natural 1 and shoots herself in the foot with her own crossbow. That’s not good, the fandom thinks, what if she got killed doing damage to herself? Besides, that would look really dumb.

We will never know about Spurt.

Jester, Fjord and Yasha got kidnapped by slavers once, we find out alarmingly late. They seem fine though, so that turns into another trivia fact.

Actually no, that’s probably mentioned in passing when they’re explaining how Molly died. It doesn’t really hit home with most if the fandom though.

Unclear where Caleb can teleport to. Generally assumed that he knows at least one teleport circle in the Empire.

In this world Vox Machina probably doesn’t exist at all. At least not online. Maybe they played all of that campaign at home, so we get occasional references to ‘their first game’ or ‘their home game’ but have no context for that either.

In which case you could make a whole category for references to the first campaign we wouldn’t understand.

Like why Taliesin is explaining how the guns work.

Or the ruins of Draconia down south.

Or why the team were so hyped to go to Whitestone.

Or maybe this was their first campaign after all, and none of these things have any additional context.

Nott will be looked at mostly as a halfling mother. Instead of discussions about if she’s even old enough to be an adult she’s considered older than the rest, and a large contingent of the fandom is mad at her for adventuring when she has a child waiting for her at home.

Caleb has at least two homebrew spells. They are eventually referred to as Dunamancy. The fandom realises the level of worldbuilding Matt’s on in that he’s made an entire new school of magic.

Feel free to add more. I’m sure there’s stuff I haven’t considered out there.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr meta #critical role meta #what if cr2 started in the middle #like cr1 did

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endangered-liaison · 5 years ago

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Prompt #15: Snowbird

There are many discreet, quiet houses in Ala Mhigo.

Many places for people to hide away when they don't want to be found, especially after the wars.

This particular quiet, discreet house...rattles a little.

There's a yell from within, and one of the window shutters shakes. Another yell, and the sound of a spell being cast.

A muffled "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck y--"

The front door of the building shatters apart, and a hooded, cloaked woman crashes through it. She slides across the stone pavement of Ala Mhigo like a ragroll, groaning and muttering curse words.

A highlander arcanist steps out of the building, a book in one hand and a knuckle duster in the other.

"Nobody fuckin' told me Boartusk was a fuckin' fighter."

She staggers her way to her feet, one fist raised to fight while the other clutches her stomach. Behind her mask, she smirks.

"Let's fuckin' go, yeah?"

Another doorway opens, and half a dozen assorted Ala Mhigan goons wander their way out. A rifle, a sword. One of them has an honest-to-fuck spiked bat.

"Oh, come the fuck on."

Her vocabulary is getting more limited than usual. In her defence, this situation is fuckin' bullshit.

"Who the hells sent you?" Boartusk asks. His Mhigan brutes close in just a little more.

"See..." Maxima raises one of her hands slowly, as if to surrender. The other stays holding her side. "About that..."

Max seems to recover from her 'injury' remarkably quickly. She draws a revolver from her waistband, firing two rounds towards Boartusk.

His magicked barrier absorbs the first one, and the second is deflected, leaving a long gash across his arm. Fucking mages.

The one with the spiked bat swings for her, and she shoots him in the leg before shoving her way past him.

She'd love to stay and chat, really.

Nothing personal, yeah?

She's just got places to be.

She sprints out of the quiet alleyway and into the main street of Ala Mhigo.

It's at that point that she realises that she just sprinted into the main street of Ala Mhigo while holding a gun, right after three gunshots went off.

A Resistance... wait, Ala Mhigan Army soldier spots her, and yells something.

A rifle shot blasts over her shoulder, and she she shoves her way past the guard. No time to explain the situation right now this moment.

Which would be great, if not for the fact that everyone is running and screaming, and an alarum just sounded.

Fuck.

She really stirred up the wespe's nest, didn't she?

She's got about a minute until the whole fuckin' Resist-- Ala Mhig-- it's the fucking Resistance, okay?! - comes down on her head.

Right. Great.

She reaches the entrance to another alleyway and stops. Turns, raising her revolver. The first of Boartusk's enforcers rounds the corner from the alley she came from. A shot to the chest, and he drops. She hits the second in the leg, and he goes sprawling.

The man with the rifle rounds the corner, and Max aims towards him. She fires her last round.

The bullet skitters against a barrier.

Fucking mages!

She ducks around the corner as the enforcer retaliates, running again.

The corridor is long, and narrow, and an exceedingly straight shot for anyone who wants to shoot her in the back.

Max dives into cover behind a pillar as a Ruin spell almost blasts her head (or at least her hood) off. She fumbles a little then clicks the side of her mask, switching on the overly-expensive thing's vox unit. "III to Snowbird, that name's still stupid, come in Snowbird!" The Resistance have got to be closing in, and that damned caster and his lackeys are still on her tail.

"You're stupid," comes the languid response, half-garbled by static. "What do you want, Max?"

She snaps open her revolver, loading rounds in as quickly as she can manage. "Emergency pickup, on the uh..." a rifle blasts out a large chunk of the wall she's hiding behind. Okay. Three rounds will have to do. She snaps the revolver closed again. "East side of the city rooftops."

There comes a long pause. "What city?" the voice on the vox demands, exasperated. "If you need evac from Limsa, you're shit out of luck."

Another gunshot, another Ruin. "Y'think I'd get vox signal that far out?! Ala Mhigo, you shite!" Max breaks cover, firing three rounds towards the advancing brute squad (that fucking caster is the Brute Squad, she swears), before running.

"Ala Mhigo?! If you're trying to kill yourself, you're doing a magnificent job. You think the Alliance won't blow me out of the air the moment I show my face? Have you seen what dragoons do to fliers?"

"Nope. Seen what they do to cannons, though." It's a low blow. In Max's defence, she's being shot at. She slides below a merchant's cart, and the cart promptly shatters behind her as a spell blasts shitty Rhalgr charms in all directions.

She ducks into an alleyway. There's silence on the vox save for Max's perpetually-ragged breathing for a few moments, then a wooden crash and a bang. The background noise seems to die down, and Max lets herself wheeze more freely.

"...Laelia. Please." A please from Maxima Sawyer is rarer than a thank you, and almost, almost as rare as a sorry.

For a moment, there's just static.

"...Fine. You're lucky I have some spare nitro. Get to a high point and carry something bright. You're going to have maybe thirty seconds to jump on board. And afterwards you're paying me for the fuel cost one way or another. I have to steal this stuff now, you know." There comes another, longer pause, and then: "Don't you dare fucking die."

"No chance," Max whispers. There are voices, muffled, nearby. "I've got a date."

"Snowbird to III, you still kicking?" comes the voice at last over the vox.

Max lets out a sigh of relief. "Yeah." She's had to run a few times, her hiding places getting found out, and at one point she had to hit someone repeatedly in the face with the butt of her revolver. But she's still kicking. "Guessing I need to make my run for it now?"

"Yeeeeeeeeeep," Laelia drawls. "See that balcony to your northwest? Run like you're being chased by the Frumentarii."

Max groans. "Great. Fuckin' great." She holsters her revolver (it's out of ammo by now, anyway) and flexes her fingers. Takes a few slow, steady breaths. Then kicks open the door in front of her, and sprints out into the streets. She makes it almost a full twenty paces before someone yells "there she is!"

At the same time, the Delphinus descends like a great wyrm upon Ala Mhigo, burning bright and blue. Max sees it roar past her, just for a moment.

Max doesn't know if it's the Resistance or the goon squad yelling behind her, and she doesn't much care to stay and find out.

She leaps and grabs a loose stone on the side of the building to her left. Thank fuck for Mhigan building techniques. She clambers her way up the side of the building quickly, and looks around as soon as she reaches the rooftop. There. Aligned, pixel-perfect, with the balcony.

She's never been so happy to see an airship in her life.

A gunshot blasts the minaret next to her head and she yelps. "Seriously?!"

She starts running, slipping her bow from her back and nocking an arrow as she sprints across a wooden bridge between rooftops. Almost there. "Ten seconds out!"

"All you have is ten!" Laelia warns. Already dragoons begin to spring across the rooftops, and cannons train on the gunship from below.

Max shoots an arrow towards the Resistance marksman who seems determined to make her life miserable. It misses, but she wasn't exactly aiming for him. She isn't here to kill the Alliance, as weird as it is to even think that.

Another bridge between buildings, and she's one house from the right balcony. Her lungs are burning from her sprint, but she can't stop yet.

She leaps. The marksman peeks out of his cover again...and fires at her. Max stumbles on the landing, almost dropping to her knees before staggering the last few steps into the Delphinus. "GO!"

Laelia doesn't need to be told twice. She punches it, pulling away at such a harsh angle that gravity threatens to knock them both out. It doesn't, however, and they fly free, screaming over the alabaster salt-flats below.

"You okay back there?" she asks at last.

Max staggers towards the cockpit, gripping one of the handholds. She lifts her jacket a little, looking towards her back. A rifle bullet is digging into her armoured vest, and a small amount of blood trickles down to her pant leg. "Bastard shot me!" she grumbles.

"Dunno what you were expecting." Laelia doesn't turn, fully immersed in her flying. "So you wanna explain what madness made you decide that going to Ala Mhigo was a good idea, or do I just have to speculate?"

"New job for a cute cyclops." Max tugs off her hood and unclips her respirator. She gives Laelia a shit-eating grin. "Hey Belisar. Glad you could make it."

"You're a shit," comes the blunt response. Laelia still doesn't turn, though she's grinning. "You're lucky I like you. I wouldn't go out of this way for just anyone, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Max pauses. "...Thanks." She slumps into the co-pilot's seat and hisses as it jostles her injury.

Laelia finally glances aside, slowing some as they finally put distance from the danger. "We've got to find you a medicus."

"Careful; I might start thinkin' you care about me." Max grins again. "It's not bad. Barely pierced my armour."

Laelia stretches. "Nah, you're just useful. Either way, where should I take you?"

"Wherever you're calling home now. I can get the rest of the way back to Ul'dah. You gotta steal your fuel now, after all." Max seems to be mulling over her next words with considerably more care than she usually would. Finally, she seems to reach the decision point of sod it (her usual decision factor in life), and just says what's on her mind. "...Castellus is alive."

"'Wherever' is my home. I go as far as my fuel can take me. I don't know if they want us here but I'm going to guess no." Laelia frowns, her expression hardening more at the mention of Victoria. "...Is she...?" comes the quiet response.

"Survived the Reaper, just about. She's got some stylish scars and a missing bit of ear, but...she's okay. Working out of Ul'dah, keeping her head down." Max tugs a little at the collar of her coat and coughs. "...Got herself a girlfriend. Roegadyn, if you can believe that." She snorts, and that transforms into another cough.

"Roegadyn!" Laelia laughs, falling back into her chair. "So we've lost her to the savages. I knew she was hopeless." Despite her harsh words, there's humor to them. It's clear she's only joking. "I don't know. I've mingled some among the Eorzeans, pretending I'm a knife-ear. They've proven pretty boring thusfar."

Max cackles. "You've got the attitude to be an Elezen."

Laelia shrugs. "I'm only channeling our dear late emperor. He'd not have fired upon his own, I'll say that much."

Max winces at that particular statement. "...Yeah."

Laelia falls silent, flying them on. At last she pulls up in the East Shroud, landing them not far from Baelsar's Wall. "I don't want to send you too far on a hike, but this is the best I can do," she said. "If you travel west along the road from here you'll come upon a tiny homestead called the Hawthorne Hut. It's staffed with knowledgeable conjurers and they'll be able to patch you up."

Max nods, getting to her feet. She staggers, just a little, and clutches the injury. Alright, she might have been slightly downplaying how deeply the bullet pierced her armour.

She pauses, just for a moment.

"...Thanks, Lee."

"Anytime," Laelia murmurs, not able to reach her comrade's gaze. "Keep in touch, alright? I'll be around."

"Will do. I'll bring Vic over to see you sometime. Promise it won't be for an evac, next time." Max smiles, and it seems genuine, for once. "Stay safe, yeah?"

"Good. I'd love to see her again. Tell her to keep her chin up, kay?" She turns to glance behind her seat, smiling. "Like I said, don't die. I'd be pissed, and that's way too much effort."

"Really?" Max hits the 'open door' button with the side of her fist, and waits for the stairs to extend outwards. "Always felt like the easiest emotion for me to get a handle on." She smirks, and offers a lazy Imperial salute before stepping out of the Delphinus and into the Shroud.

Laelia chuckles. She waits until she's certain that Max has her feet on the ground and then pulls away. The Delphinus vanishes behind the canopy above.

((Featuring Laelia Belisar’s flying talents and snark.))

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2019 #Max Sawyer #Laelia Belisar #III Squad

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elkfeast · 6 years ago

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PART. I / II / III / IV tw: violence, blood + suicide ! * also has depiction of wwi / trench warfare.

every breath you take. ❛ so if i may dissect this ; the law enforcement came together and formed a so called band called ‘ the police ’ ? but you sang it ! are you to tell me that you were part of the police force at some point or another in your mortal life ? seems very unlike you to be quite honest. ❜ utter confusion. the pixelated laugher that escapes his partner, the infamous Vox Populi pitch in a variety of colourful notes from high to low with flailing arms.

Alastor doesn’t get what’s so funny but the subject is further explained in a summarized manner with music developing over the decades, so has the play on names for various groups or individuals in the industry ; the police being a prime example. still, the Radio Demon couldn’t help but picture uniformed cops singing their hymns like some kind of Christmas carol. but he did raise his glass of Courvoisier to give toast to his brilliant apprentice’s voice and dance moves. glasses clink. they both down the cognac and laugh at their silliness, dressed in sequence and expensive diamonds. ❛ and is this man who calls himself Sting a bee enthusiast? ❜

the second time he hears the song he’s driving his red plymouth cuda convertible ; one of the very few modern possessions he had won at an auction and he’s switching through stations. he’s taken a liking to having the wind blow through his hair instead of taking the limousine on a daily. a chauffeur isn’t always a necessity. beside him sitting in the passenger seat is Charlie who perks up recalling the song being one of her favourites. she’s surprised that he has knowledge of something regarding the modern era but takes the positive feeling in stride that comes when he refrains from switching stations and turns the volume up instead.

❛ let me guess, Vox? ❜ she asks, her voice has a hint of playfulness to it. without baring teeth, Alastor just gives her a genuine smile and a wink.

as for the third time, well, there isn’t. Alastor feels himself fly across the map as his feet become weightless and his entire body hits the concrete with a hard thud. the cold surface of the floor felt soothing and he was out of breath. as another grenade erupted and unclogged his ears, rubble sprayed his form in tiny chunks of pebbles. he only flinched, face down and exhausted. the great Radio Demon felt... defeated. this is no ordinary EXTERMINATION and he knew it. too deliberate, too planned. since when did angels bring entire platoons with explosives and guns of their own? this is a mission.

and hell’s chivalry just arrived. in a burst of colours and spray of bullets, the tides of heaven and hell clashed with enough time for Alastor to register what was happening and raise his head as he heard Rosie’s voice, distant but jovial. her British accent replaced by her born cockney. as his vision focused he caught a glimpse of white and before he knew it he was flying above the skirmish and stumbling to his feet as the soles of his shoes touched ground on the second floor. still recovering he looked up, rifle slung over his shoulder but at the ready should he need it. two bullets left was all he had so he isn’t going to just waste it on anybody but, when he saw Lucifer coming to approach Alastor took one step forward to meet. how they got to the upper level is a mystery to the deer seeing as the monarch still lacked his wings but, he did know that his blonde compatriot had a way of getting around when necessary so he just didn’t question that part.

❛ it’s my brother Michael. kill his form with this knife and he’ll return to Heaven. now get to the tower and i’ll hold the line with Rosie and her soldiers until the rest arrive. ❜ white gloves take hold of dark ones, placing the dagger in the other’s hands. the deer scoffs, quick to replace the hunting knife he had in his sheath with the weapon provided.

❛ ah, there it is... ❜ wagging his finger, still trying to maintain his balance through the recent shell shock Alastor almost grinned if it weren’t for the displeasing information. ❛ thought your angelic family had something they wanted with my apprentice. why can’t you come with me now? ❜

❛ they want him dead and i need to find my daughter first. she followed you here. ❜ the devil’s voice was firm. Lucifer isn’t fooling around today and Alastor isn’t willing to admit that he felt sick at the notion of placing Charlie in danger despite her choice of pursuing his solo suicide mission. he may have plans of his own for her but her attachment had grown sickeningly troublesome for her own good and try as he might, he couldn’t be at two places at once. truth be told, he didn’t feel quite like his usual self. there’s dread in the air.

❛ alright. ❜ is all Alastor says as he and Lucifer go their separate ways.

the elevator ride to the tower is quiet and long winded. the lack of music eerie though, he had a strong feeling that even with an instrumental track in the background his anxiety would only continue to spike. and such a feeling would jump to complete and panic as the elevator shook and stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble forth and onto his knees. fluorescent lights flicker. the lift creaking under its own weight. then far too close, there’s a muffled explosion that throws his body down again and this time onto its side. there’s a snap ! up above and the lift threatens to collapse.

❛ shit ! ❜ Alastor jumps to his feet, running to the doors. the lights continue to flicker around him as he manages to wedge his claws through the gap in the door and slowly pry it open. his shadows, quickly coming to his aid as they shoot out and pry the next set of exit doors open to the other floor. another snap ! and the shadows force the shaft doors open to the other floor as half of them slip out and watch in terror as the lift slam close again, trapping their owner inside. but Alastor with his weight betraying him and having him collapse again upon the elevator’s second time giving way, gets back on his feet and begins the rigorous process again ; his lift now in between floors. he gets the doors open, throws his rifle over the open gap and hops up onto the ledge, claws scrambling to grab hold of the smooth surface of the exit as his shadows come to his aid. the rest of the metallic cords break and the elevator lift descends with Alastor rolling out into the hallway just in the nick of time.

out of breath he allows his shadows to settle ‘neath the fabric of his black coat again before getting up and taking his rifle. his ears perk up as he hears a struggle a few levels up and he knows he’s close to his destination. entering the fire escape he climbs the stairs, arming his rifle and checking over the last two bullets he has left before throwing open the last set of doors and entering the auditorium from the side as he fires one bullet upon entering.

bullseye as Michael’s ribcage explodes right open and the archangel falls to his knees with gritted teeth. the television in the midst of running out of fighting power disappears in the shadows, and Alastor keeps his rifle trained at the enemy as he makes his approach. one bullet left, and witnessing the angel stagger he knew that the knife Lucifer had given him is his only resort to getting rid of this angelic asshole. ❛ fly on home. ❜

#*♔.･ come with me and take the ride / to the other side ( v: vox populi ) ♬♪#*♔.･ i roared / and i rampaged / and i got bloody satisfaction ( v: lady in red ) ♬♪#long post

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scoundrelstars · 6 years ago

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The Price of Ink, Part 4

The low growl of the engine echoed strangely along the walls and off into the darkness. They’d been driving for almost an hour down a series of winding subways and rail tunnels that had been used to ferry workers out into the mining pits. Now, illuminated only by the floodlights of their vehicle, the tracks were empty.

Inside the Taurox, things were quiet. The Hellbats sat watching the shadows cast by the floodlights. Reddy and Abel sat with their eyes glued to their wristcog dataslates which showed live pict-feeds from the pair of servo-skulls that roved in front of and behind them. They cast about with auspex readers, scanning the darkness for things unseen. They were moving closer and closer to the heart of Scarist Hive and the odds of them going undetected were shrinking by the moment.

Naemi concentrated on the map in her head, seeing more than what the dataslate on her arm could show her. They were close to the Archives now, barely blocks away from city center. She was amazed they’d made it this far without encountering any of the deranged cultists that had taken over the hive. By all accounts, they had swarmed up from the underhive and taken control of every major building, system, and office in the city. Perhaps none remained down here. The Archives was on the surface, however, and a lump formed in her throat at the thought of facing down those killers.

She shook herself mentally and steeled herself. They’d have to get there first.

“It should just be up there,” she said in a whisper.

“Lights ahead,” said Sergeant Alcoin.

“Abel?” said Sorn.

“Yessir.”

With two fingers, Sorn punched runes on his wristcog and brought the view from Abel’s servo-skull onto the bulkhead pict-screen. It hovered high in the tunnel, creeping along ahead of them. The tunnel widened out into a large railway loading area for people and cargo that would have gone down to the mining pits. Only a few of the vapor lamps were still on, but the pools of light revealed the grand vaults of the Archives stop, where countless scribes would bring their daily tabulations and recordings to be stored at the end of each shift.

“I don’t see anyone.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of those tunnel scuttlers. Makes me nervous,” said Sorn.

“Think the Hallowed Starborn cult is big on reading?” asked Naemi. Her voice was strained, but the Hellbats chuckled around her.

“No I don’t, professor. All right, Caissy, bring us in. Aime, look alive on those guns.”

The Taurox pulled into the train station and up onto the equipment loading ramp, its treads biting into the fractured tile and ruined mosaic floor. They came to a stop and opened the back hatch, piling out with guns ready. Caissy and Aime stayed aboard, covering the Hellbats’ advance with the heavy guns.

Water dripped from pipes in the vaulted ceilings, lending the loading platform an echoing, spectral quality. Naemi was squarely in the middle of the formation, protected by Scions on either side and a slab of armoured vehicle at her back. She still wasn’t used to the carapace armor she’d been fitted with, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it looked and she found that her movement was mostly unrestricted. They slunk quickly to the grand staircase that led to the surface. Wrought iron gates had been reinforced with heaps of scrap metal welded together across them to form an impassable wall much like they had encountered on the surface.

“We’re blocked, sir,” said Reddy over the vox, “should we blow it?”

“Maybe not,” said Naemi, searching her memory, “there’s another way, I think.”

She broke away to the side of the main pedway where she followed a pair of tramrails sunk into the floor. They led to a loading ramp that was closed off with two heavy blast doors and big enough to move mining equipment on and off of the trains that would depart from the platform. A freight elevator. And it went up to a storage garage on the surface, adjacent to the Archives. This was their way up. She found the control panel under a pool of light cast by one of the few remaining lamps that shone.

“Can you get it working?” said Sorn, coming up next to her. He made a series of hand motions to the other Hellbats and they fanned out around them, taking covering angles, some facing the elevator and others the approaches.

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

She pulled her Logos icon from underneath her chestplate and turned it over. From the back, she unspooled a fine interface lead that she plugged into the elevator call panel. The solar icon around the stylized tome lit with green light as the cipher-gheist inside did its work. With the scrape of metal on metal, the doors to the freight elevator ground open and glowglobes flickered on inside, revealing a platform big enough to hold a full dump-loader.

Satisfied that nothing was going to jump out at them, Sorn motioned the Taurox forward. With a low grumble, it moved up the loading ramp and onto the elevator. Aime rotated top turret to face back the way they’d come. The brake lights cast a sullen red glow out into the darkness. The Hellbats followed their vehicle up the ramp and took defensive positions along the outer edges of the lift platform. Naemi unplugged her icon and followed.

The doors slid closed with the push of a control rune and the platform lurched upward.

They were dumped out into the storage garage meant for the Archives adepts, mine-boss vehicles, and materiel destined for the railway below. A quick jog up the ramps brought them to ground level where the garage connected to the Archives. They stopped in front of the doorway that led to the building next to them.

“Caissy, Aime. Stay here with the Taurox and keep our getaway secure.” Acknowledges came back from the two troopers and Sorn continued. “We’ll be in an out before anyone knows we’ve been there.”

Naemi followed the Hellbats through an archway that led to the Archives’ main foyer, using her icon’s cipher-gheist to get them through the biomantic scanners and lockouts.

The main hall of the Archives was a soaring edifice of rib-vaulted stone and stained glass, but its grandeur was despoiled by looting and vandalism. Scrivener’s desks were overturned and staved in, the tall tome-stacks had been pushed over, scattering books, dataslates, and mnesis-tapes all over. The great stained glass windows that had once shown the full glory of the Administratum were smashed and huge sack-cloth banners painted with the Starborn’s heretical symbols hung in their place.

“Spread out. Search pattern delta-tertius,” came Sorn’s order, “I feel like a whiskerfish in a river full of swampcats.”

The two servo-skulls that accompanied them zoomed ahead, their auspex scanners searching the darkness for threats unseen. The Mercier boys followed close behind, disappearing into the ruined stacks, their hot-shot lasguns held at the ready. Lufleur hefted her own weapon, a heat-scarred meltagun, and moved quietly for a soldier of her size.

It was eerily quiet amid the stacks. The musty smell of old paper and books made it through the omnishield mask that covered Naemi’s face. It almost comforted her. It was familiar, yet sinister, reminding her of the scriptorum back on Terra, but tainted by the smell of smoke and fresh aero-paint.

Her vox crackled in her ear. “Found something.”

They passed into the great narthex where the High Archivist would have watched over the entrance to the data-crypts, the repository for the planet’s most sensitive and important knowledge. Abel and Reddy were already there, standing over the cracked marble desk and a mound of blue cloth. As she drew near, Naemi realized it was the High Archivist’s corpse. Blood had seeped out onto the white stone floors and dried to a dark brown.

“Been here for a week, maybe?” said Abel.

“Went down fighting,” said his brother, pointing to the huge chunks blasted out of the stone desk.

Naemi stared down at the High Archivist’s body and swayed. Dead eyes stared up from a slack-jawed face. She felt bile rise in her throat and had to look away. She felt a hand on her arm.

Sorn steered her away from the corpse and towards the data-crypt’s doors. “Come on, professor. The quicker we can get into those data-crypts, the faster we can get out of here.”

“Right,” she said, swallowing hard and unspooling her Logos icon’s interface lead once more.

The back wall of the narthex was dominated by a heavy vault door. A gene-scanner and voiceprint analyzer would have to be passed for the High Archivist’s key to be accepted, but Naemi wouldn’t need to go to such lengths. She prised the front panel off of the crypt’s access cogitator, mouthed a quick apology to any red priests who might be watching, and connected her icon to a data port hidden within. Once again, her Logos icon glowed green as the cipher-gheist went to work.

Runes and tech-script scrawled along the pict-screen as the panel went haywire. A loud clunk echoed through the Archive as the data-crypt’s maglocks disengaged and retracted. Lufleur hauled on the huge door and it swung open, revealing a cavernous structure built of ceramite-reinforced steel and it stretched back into the darkness. Rows of glowglobes clicked on in succession, flooding the data-crypt with clinical, white light. Towers of datastacks and mnemono-matrices rose from the floor, lights winking across their surfaces in dizzying patterns. Along the outer walls, bookshelves containing musty scrolls, tomes, and volumes were neatly organized. It seemed that the Hallowed Starborn hadn’t managed to get into vault. Naemi’s heart leaped at the prospect of the Iterator Soldatta’s greatest work still being intact.

“Neatly done, professor,” said Sorn, coming to stand next to her.

“There’s still power, which is better than I’d hoped,” she said, stepping over the threshold, “The stasis vault should still be functioning. We might even find Soldatta’s work undamaged!”

“Let’s have ourselves a look,” drawled the colonel. He motioned quickly with one hand and Leger and Monpremier bustled in with their equipment. Out of their packs, they brought out black plastic boxes with retractable cables. The two troopers went to work connecting them to the stacks’ dataports, flipping the small switches on their boxes. Small red lights blinked as their exhaust fans revved up with an electric whine.

Naemi started to speak, but remembered the colonel’s face the last time she asked what he would do with the data he was taking from Scarist’s vaults. She decided not to press the issue. Hopefully, she’d be well out of this Emperor-forsaken subsector before it came back to bite her. She affected to not see them and push on deeper into the data-crypt.

The two of them proceeded towards the far end of the chamber where a glass panel separated a section of the vault off from the rest. Arcane machinery hummed around it, projecting a stasis field to keep the contents within protected from the ravages of time. At the center of the stasis chamber, atop a small plinth, Naemi could see the object of her quest. The Rise of Empire, Iterator Soldatta’s greatest work, was a tome the size of a paving stone and engraved with the head of an eagle over crossed thunderbolts.

Naemi began to manipulate the stasis controls though her Logos icon. She could have shut the entire chamber down and retrieved the book, but there was a chance that the Archives might survive the Imperial assault on Scarist and she wanted to keep the accumulated knowledge of the planet safe within the time-warping fields. The entire data-crypt was hardened against attack and she would give it good odds to survive even an orbital lance strike. By adjusting the edges of the field generators in a precise way, she could open a path through the stasis chamber and retrieve the Iterator’s tome without disturbing the rest of the precious objects inside.

The vox channel came alive and she could hear Reddy’s voice whispering, “I’ve got movement out here, chief.”

“Visual?”

“I’ve got mining vehicles and groundcars pullin’ up to the front of the building. They’re packed to burstin’ with some of the meanest characters I ever did see. I think they know we’re here.”

“Pull back to the crypt, we’re almost out of here,” voxed Sorn before giving her a serious look, “Wrap it up, boys. Time for us to go! You too, professor. If you’re gonna grab this thing, it’s got to be now.”

#Warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #black library #The Price of Ink #Logos Historica Verita #Astra Militarum #militarum tempestus #Javier Sorn #Naemi Vandenberg #sci-fi #fiction #fan-fiction

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banshee-king · 7 years ago

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The Siege of Brazen Pinnacle:

Hive Fleet Tatzelwurm has struck Bleakshore, homeworld of the Brazen Krakens. While the chapter fleet engages the Tyranid ships in orbit, the majority of the Space Marines fight the xenos on the planet’s surface. They cannot possibly hope to defend every island on the ocean world, yet the Brazen Pinnacle, their mighty fortress-monastery, provides a chance of survival. The Tyranids are cunning however, and the Space Marines do not know the extent of the threat of which they face.

“Squad Vidos, focus fire on the Carnifexes, Squad Akkon, find those Venomthropes” barked Marro Sollund over the vox-comm.

From his elevated position on the inner wall, Chapter Master Sollund could see the entire battle unfolding. Hundreds of Tyranids assaulted the battlements of the Brazen Pinnacle, the fortress-monastery of the Brazen Krakens. The Tyranids were mainly comprised of Hormagaunts and Termagants, relatively little beasts, but amidst their numbers were other far deadlier creatures. The swarm was hidden under a thick green cloud produced by Venomthropes, worse however were the Carnifexes fast approaching under the cover of the gas cloud.

“Squads Gelux and Omak, move to reinforce the eastern flank” ordered Sollund to the assault marines.

A wall of Chimera transporters, lined up tip to tail, formed the first barricade against the Tyranids, and behind them were the Aegis defence lines. Both hastily constructed barricades were maned by the Bleakshore Marines, the planetary defence force. The Bleakshore Marines had done themselves proud against the Tyranids so far. Yet despite their exemplary performance, a single Carnifex could easily break through both lines, so it was imperative that the larger creatures be brought down before reaching the Chimeras.

Behind these barricade were the inner and outer walls of the Brazen Pinnacle. The outer wall stood 20 metres tall, whilst the inner wall stood 30 metres above that. Both were carved into the mountain side, and were wide enough for tank convoys to drive left and right along its length. Sollund had once thought Brazen Pinnacle was unassailable, yet the speed and ease at which the Tyranids had cleared the surrounding mine fields now led him to wonder if they even had enough ammunition to last forever.

“Chapter Master, a large Gargoyle swarm is approaching from the west” informed one of Sollund’s Honour Guard. Sollund looked over to the western flank and indeed there were Gargoyles flanking around, their wings could be seen flapping in and out of the gas cloud as they failed to remain hidden.

“Squad Torrin, deal with Gargoyles to west” instructed Sollund to the tactical marines.

Gargoyles were just gaunts with wings, they were a minor threat at best, yet left unchecked they could kill the serfs and servitors who were carrying ammunition to wherever it was needed. Sollund knew such pests would be unable to take out the fortified weapons batteries, or the Basilisk and Whirlwind artillery tanks on the western flank. Yet if the guns ran out of ammunition, then the Tyranids would quickly overwhelm them.

Sollund surveyed the battlefield and listened to the vox-comm came in of the Tyranids movements. For some unknown reason, they had decided to primarily strike form the north, with minor measures taken to flank the Space Marines from the east and west. Perhaps the mountains really did limit mobility as had been hoped, but Sollund had expected something… more from the Tyranids. Were they really just dumb animals? They were a threat so large in size and scale, yet so far, they had shown very little tactical skill beyond throwing countless hordes of gaunts at the walls. Yet just as Sollund thought that, the situation took a turn for the worse.

The void shields above the fortress-monastery flickered and vanished, followed by silence from the entrenched guns of the weapons batteries all along in inner and outer walls. Sollund started in disbelief as the thunderous sound of battle seemed to dim and grow quiet. The missile silos had stopped firing, the laser cannons had stopped shooting. The fortress-monastery’s power had been utterly cut.

“Techmarines, what is the meaning of this power failure?” demanded Sollund over the vox-comm. He waited a moment for a response, and when it came, Sollund could hear gunshots and alien screeching over the vox.

“The Generatorum has fallen” said Techmarine Invillo. “Genestealers have entered the monastery, they’ve broken through security! The lower tunnels are infested, there are hundreds of them!”

“What happened to the Master of the Forge?” asked Sollund.

“Unknown. He was in the Generatorum when it was lost” said Invillo. Sollund heard the sound of explosions through the vox-comm. “I have awakened the dreadnoughts and we are moving to retake the Generatorum.”

“See that it is done, we need the void shields back online immediately.”

As the Chapter Master said those words he looked upwards and saw the consequences of the loss of the Generatorum. The sky was filled with falling comets, or to be more precise, falling spore pods. Without the void shields or the automated defence systems, the spore pods began to rain upon the battlements of the Brazen Pinnacle. Some pods exploded in a shower of acid and bile. Others began to disgorge multitudes of Tyranid organisms.

“Assault squads, intercept the Tyranids form the spore pods” ordered Sollund.

Sollund was about to issue another order but he noticed the ground shaking beneath him. It wasn’t the trembling from the artillery, or any other weapons firing, he’d been used to that for the last couple hours. Sollund stood cautiously, wondering if the entire fortress-monastery was about to explode under his feet.

Abruptly the floor cracked underneath him, and Sollund leapt back as the ceramite floor gave way and metal and rock burst into the air. Sollund crawled backwards as a monstrous creature wormed its way out of the ground before him. The beast was like nothing he’d ever seen, it was neither a Trygon nor a Hive Tyrant, it was something… different.

“Defend the Chapter Master” shouted one of the honour guard, and five gold helmed Space Marines charged forth, power weapons drawn and ready.

The honour guard of the Brazen Krakens were their greatest soldiers, the most veteran and skilled of their members, and in the time it took the Tyranid monster to cut them down, Marro Sollund managed to stand up and take a glimpse of the unfolding battlefield. It was horrific to watch so many battle brothers fall to the foul xenos, honourable souls cut down by mindless animals. Yet in only a few seconds, the Tyranid ambusher had dealt with the honour guard and was now upon Sollund. The creature was definitely no mere Hive Tyrant. Each of its four arms ended in three bladed claws, and its feet ended with four talons each, rather than the usual hooves that all other Tyranids possessed. The monster’s tail was tipped with a scythe-like blade that it whipped at Sollund, whilst the monster also used its mouth to snap and bite.

Standing three times taller than a Space Marines, and with eight limbs capable of attacking, Sollund felt like he was battling a tornado of blades and claws. The Chapter Master had only his sword to defend himself, and while the Kraken Blade was a revered relic of the Chapter, Sollund felt woefully outmatched. Yet as he fought off the monster, Sollund could only think of what was happening to his brothers and citizens. A living tide of chitin and claws was falling upon the Bleakshore Marines, Carnifexes crashed through their ranks as Hormagaunts cut down all in their path. The Chimera barricade had been toughly breached, and the Aegis defence lines were being swarmed. The Tyranids had timed their attack with perfect precision, and Sollund knew he did not have enough time to issue enough orders to save any of the Bleakshore Marines whilst simultaneously fighting off the monster currently assailing him.

With a flick of its tail, the Tyranid aberration gouged a chunk out of Sollund’s armour, leaving a scar across his chest plate that almost cut through to his flesh. Unsatisfied with the blow, the Tyranid redoubled its attacks.

On the western flank Gargoyles swooped and shot their living weapons in the hundreds. Amongst their numbers Sollund had been shocked to see a flying Hive Tyrant leading the lesser fiends and taking out tank after tank with its monstrous bladed limbs. Sollund could only imagine that the Hive Tyrant’s body had been hidden behind by the swarm of smaller Gargoyles, if he had known that such a powerful beast was leading the flanking force, he’d have sent more to deal with the threat. But it was too late now, the flying beasts were reinforced by more warrior organisms dropped from spore pods, and as one unified force they overwhelmed the western defenders. Sollund could only listen over the vox-comm as Squad Torrin was slaughtered one by one, and the Chapter Master realised he had sent those men to their deaths.

A whirlwind of blows chipped away at the Kraken Blade, the Tyranid’s claws were coated in a psychic layer that ripped through Adamantium like paper. Sollund wanted to be helping his brothers, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his assailant for a moment.

At the back of his mind, he knew to the east that several Trygons had burst from the ground and were running havoc behind the inner wall. The tunnels they created allowed yet more Tyranids to pour forth and bring battle to the Space Marines on every level. What had once been a tactical defence had been turned into a desperate fight for survival by the Tyranids’ perfectly synchronised attack, but then again, Sollund should not have expected anything less from an alien hive mind. They had struck from every angle simultaneously, and Sollund was pained that he did not physically have enough time to say enough words to command all his marines. They relied upon him, yet Sollund was too busy trying to save himself.

Sollund could only deflect his attacker’s blows for so long, the paint of his armour was being shredded, pipes and power cables were being cut. His backpack suffered a glancing hit, he had minutes at most before his armour ran out of power. After that he would be dead, yet Sollund could not stop thinking of his brothers.

Whilst the 6th and 9th Companies held the northern inner and outer walls, the 8th Company had been held back in a flexible position to counter any threats. Meanwhile the 3rd Company held the western outer wall, and the 5th Company held the eastern outer wall against Tyranid invaders. It was a solid plan against Orks, or the forces of Chaos, but those enemies could not control hordes with the precision of the single-minded Tyranids. Over the vox-comms came a flood of reports and cries for help. The Tyranids had suddenly unleashed a massive attack from both the western and eastern approaches. The 3rd Company might have been able to hold the western outer wall, if not for the Gargoyles and other creatures that were attacking their rear. Same for the 5th Company, whilst they were distracted by the Trygons, the Tyranids arriving from the east had taken minimal casualties and were climbing up the outer wall with negligible opposition.

As Sollund tried to dodge an attack from the creature’s razor-sharp maw, the monster whipped its tail around and caught his ankle. Cutting through the armour, the scythe-like blade severed Sollund’s left foot form his leg, and the Chapter Master fell backwards to the floor. This is it, Sollund thought, he was going to die. He had gotten over half his chapter killed, lost their homeworld, lost their fortress-monastery, his legacy was to be one of failure. The Tyranid beast jumped atop Sollund who tried in a futile attempt to wrestle with the monster. Sollund grabbed two of the fiend’s arms, but the alien had two more with which to strike. With what could only be described as spiteful satisfaction, the Tyranid grabbed Sollund’s arms at the shoulder, and ripped them from their sockets.

Sollund cried out in pain, he was utterly defenceless, but the Tyranid wasn’t done. The monster came back down again, this time with the intent to utterly tear Sollund into shreds. The first clawed hand cut deep into the Chapter Master’s left leg, the second severed his right. Yet before the Tyranid could decapitate the Chapter Master and rip the guts form his body, a missile blasted into the Tyranid’s head. Though only catching the chitin plates that protected the monster, it momentarily tore the creature’s attention away from Sollund. The Chapter Master could not see what was happening from where he lay, but he did see a lascannon blast hit the monster’s chest. Next plasma shots and boltgun rounds began to rain down upon the creature’s body, yet that was what they were exactly like. Droplets of rain hitting hard earth.

Sollund watched as the plasma bolts dispersed mere inches away from the monster’s actual body, and the boltgun rounds exploded before actually making contact. Just like how the creature’s claws were wrapped in some kind of psychic field, its entire body was also protected by an invisible force. A second missile hit the monster, followed by a second lascannon blast, both failing to cause any damage. The Tyranid did not move from its position however. It neither finished Sollund off nor did it charge the enemies attacking it. Instead the monster just stood there, weathering the barrage of fire it was taking. Sollund looked upon the creature’s face, he stared at its eyes, and somehow he read that the monster’s mind was elsewhere. A Tyranid’s mind being preoccupied could only mean one thing however, the monster was not just a deadly combatant, it was directing the swarm.

Before Sollund saw what the leader-beast had done however, a dozen Space Marines with jump packs slammed into it. The Chapter Master wanted to see what happened next, but two powerful hands grabbed the back of his armour and began to pull him away. Sollund’s wounds were beginning to close due to his Space Marine implants, but he had lost a lot of blood. The adrenaline that had kept him alive was now making him exhausted, yet the Chapter Master fought to stay awake. He had to watch the final moments of his world. The assault marines keeping the leader-beast occupied were being slaughtered, and Sollund did not feel worthy of their deaths. As he watched them die, Sollund was dragged into the rear of some kind of flying transport. His vision was becoming more blurred with every second, but Sollund watched the last Brazen Kraken fall, a sight he would never ever forget.

“Chief Librarian, I have the Chapter Master” said the Space Marine who dragged Sollund into the transport. To his shame, Sollund could not recognise the voice.

“Good. All ships, take off. We have saved all that we can” said Chief Librarian Koden as he moved over to heal Sollund’s wounds. “Stormravens, cover the Thunderhawk gunships as we escape, and watch out for the flying Hive Tyrant, I have seen that it will try to intervene.”

Sollund wondered how many brothers Koden had saved. To his knowledge, the Chief Librarian had been in space, combating the Hive Fleet itself. He had not heard over the vox-comm of Koden’s arrival. Sollund also wondered what had happened to Invillo and the dreadnoughts who tried to retake the Generatorum. Given that the power had not returned, Sollund guessed that they failed, their bodies were probably lying somewhere deep in the fortress-monastery. How many of his battle brother laid face down in the ground, defeated, and shamed? The day had been a disgrace to the Emperor’s name, and the Primarch’s.

“I am sorry my friend” said Koden to Sollund, “but your wounds are too deep for cybernetics, you will have to be placed inside a dreadnought.”

The Chapter Master wanted to respond, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and unconsciousness was fast upon him. Only a third of the chapter remained, most of their relics and weapons had been lost. Yet between the Chapter Master and the Chief Librarian, at least their history would be preserved. Though defeated, Sollund took the small comfort that at least all his knowledge of their traditions and legends had been saved. That, at the very least, was something that the Tyranids had not taken from them. Bleakshore was lost, the Tyranids would consume the planet before any reinforcements arrived, but the chapter had survived, and while they lived, the Brazen Krakens would be able to take revenge on the foul xenos.

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #tyranids #space marines #2700 words

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inquisitorradcliffe · 7 years ago

Text

Burn the Witch

First Place reward for @jdlegacy from the Recruitment Drive contest

Radcliffe’s revolver banged in his hand as another body dropped. He spun, arms swinging around to bring another target into his crosshairs and fire again. His revolver clicked dry. Radcliffe swore and danced back into the cover of a stone plinth. Lasrounds peppered the plinth, sending plumes of masonry dust into the air with each strike. The Lord Inquisitor opened his weapon’s cylinder with a flick of his wrist. Spent shells fell out, cascading down to jangle as they struck the tile floor. With practiced ease, Radcliffe reloaded and flicked the cylinder back into position before swinging out into a kneeling position and firing again.

“Leave some for the rest of us, Lord Inquisitor.” Radcliffe frowned as his vox bead crackled and Inquisitor Dolman’s smug voice came over the link. Dolman was a member of the Ordo Hereticus, and offensively stereotypical of its agents. He wore a tall, wide-brimmed hat at all times with a brown leather greatcoat that had the collar turned up. He carried a Condemnor patter bolt gun and enough anti-psyker trinkets to put a Culexus assassin to shame. The only redeeming quality about the man was his service record and the few choice souls that made up his retinue, all of whom seemed to find the man as irritating an insufferable as Radcliffe did.

“If you hurried and caught up, you might not be so reliant on my generosity,” Radcliffe shot back. He had no intention of saving any glory for Dolman. That wasn’t the game he played. If the Hereticus inquisitor wanted a share of the victory he would have to fight harder for it.

“Heads up, boss.” Remus’ voice came through a moment before a rocket screamed into the air. It spiraled towards Radcliffe on a tail of grey smoke. Radcliffe raised his arm to shield his face and the rocket detonated on a telekinetic barrier. Smoke and fire rolled around the Lord Inquisitor, but apart from a hot wind ruffling his coat, he was unharmed.

“Can someone get that fekker?” Radcliffe snapped. He was beginning to grow tired of this. The deeper they made it into the basilica, the more opposition they came across. Radcliffe launched himself forward, leaving the stone plinth for the safety of a marble support column. He peered out for a moment, taking stock of what lay ahead.

The corridor widened out ahead at a cross junction. Service platforms ran overhead, almost invisible against the high, domed ceiling. A number of cultists, their eyes dark and empty, had their guns trained down at the strike team, red beams of las stitching the air. Radcliffe, for the briefest moment, caught sight of the rocket launcher as the man toting it hefted it up onto his shoulder again.

“Incoming!” someone cried just before the launcher belched its payload at them. More tile and masonry flew into the air as the rocket blew a crater in the center of the corridor.

“I said can someone-”

“Patience, Lord Inquisitor,” Dolman chided. Radcliffe would strangle the man if they survived this. “We have it.”

“Damn well you better,” Radcliffe muttered. A moment later and fire boiled across the upper catwalks and Radcliffe heard the three distinctive percussive blasts as grenades went off. Cultists were thrown from their perch, falling to their deaths with unnerving silence.

“Target neutralized, Lord Inquisitor.”

“Much appreciated, Mister Danforth,” Radcliffe replied. He turned on his heel and whistled sharply. On cue, the rest of his team broke cover and sprinted the remainder of the corridor until they were all backed up against a set of ornate double doors. Thatch stepped forward, holstering his inferno pistol so he could plug into the door’s security pad. The techsorcist had the lock undone in a matter of seconds. Radcliffe pressed he vox bead in his ear. “We’re in position, Dolman.”

“Understood, Lord Inquisitor. We are-” Static burst across the link, causing Radcliffe to flinch.

“Say again, Dolman. You’re breaking up.”

More static. It hissed it waves that receded periodically to allow the sound of gunfire through. Gunfire and screaming. Radcliffe nodded to Thatch. “Open it.”

The doors squealed as gears engaged and massive hydraulic rams recessed into the floor pushed them inwards. The sound of gunfire and the horrid screaming, before only audible over the vox, now flooded out and engulfed them. Radcliffe ducked inside, mind already roving forward to assess the situation before the rest of his team followed him in.

He was met by a mental barrier of immense force. It was blunt and unwieldy, the result of a combination of untrained minds accumulated into one gestalt force of will. They were the source of the screaming and their wailing was a symptom of Dolman’s work upon their physical form.

There were hundreds of them, all chained together via metal collars around their necks. Their eyes had been removed, scorched out to leave nothing but blackened sockets. Whether this was intentional or the result of some warp power was uncertain. They were on their knees, pale, shriveled bodies trembling as they sobbed and wailed. They were wretched, and Dolman sought to end each of their wretched lives.

He killed without mercy as he marched down the line, executing each psyker in turn. They died effortlessly, their heads evaporating into red mist and grey matter. Each passing resounded i the warp as a violent shriek. “Dolman what are you doing?” Radcliffe shouted. “Stop!”

“The Emperor’s work, Lord Inquisitor!” Dolman replied. “You may join me at any time.”

“Stay your hand you ignorant man!” Radcliffe shouted. The air was growing unnaturally cold and each death only pushed the temperature down further. Radcliffe could feel a growing pressure. The veil between the warp and reality was failing. “Dolman!”

It was too late. There came the sound of shattered glass and for a moment everything froze. Tendrils of glowing haze bled into reality from a point just above Dolman’s head. They shone with impossible colors and seemed to coalesce into something greater. Then it all exploded. Dolman was tossed backwards like a rag doll, sailing through the air until he struck a stone pillar. The sickening crunch his body made indicated to Radcliffe the man would not be getting up again. The psykers, those that Dolman had not yet killed, simply ceased to exist, evaporating into a cloud of bloody mist that swirled on the sudden wind. It rose up and condensed until the blood was a shimmering, floating pool recessed high into the vaulted ceiling.

“Boss?” Orval’s voice over the vox link betrayed the slightest hint of panic.

“Kill anything that comes near me,” Radcliffe instructed. Thunder peeled overhead and lightning flashed inside the blood. Then it began to rain, warm and sticky.

“Lord Inquisitor, what do you need of me?”

“Danforth?”

“Aye, Lord.”

“My orders stand for you as well, Mister Danforth. For the Emperor.”

“For the Emperor, Lord.”

Radcliffe looked up at the blood cloud as it spit down on him. The warm fluid ran down his cheeks and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The cloud seemed to sense his defiance, and the light sprinkle turned into an absolute deluge. Something moved within it, something large and with wings. A giant claw, the fingers gnarled and grotesque, pushed through. The blood strained at first, as if it were a membrane. Then it broke, popping like a bubble. It fell from the ceiling to swamp the floor.

And the bloodthirster fell with it.

The daemon landed with a heavy thud, tiles shattering under its hooves. The force of the impact caused a shock wave to ripple across the blood pools. Wings, leathery and scaled like a dragon’s, unfurled from its back as the bloodthirster stood to its full height. The whip in its left hand wreathed and snapped with a mind of its own. The axe in its other hand pulsed with arcane power. Radcliffe drew his force sword, already acutely aware the wraithbone’s abilities would be of little use against this foe. The bloodthirster roared, shaking the building with its primal bellow. It stared Radcliffe down with eyes that glowed like hot coals. The challenge was unmistakable.

Radcliffe’s grip on his sword tightened. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.”

The first blow nearly drove his sword from his hands. The whip only made things more difficult, snaking about to try and snare and disarm. Radcliffe counted himself blessed to have sparred with so many Mechanicus armed with dendrites. He stomped down hard on the whip, wincing internally as he registered the fleshy feel to it. A downstroke severed the whip in two.

The bloodthirster roared. “Ĭ̡ͯ ẅ̢̝́į̄ͮl͓ͪ͟l̥̠͝ c̳᷈̎l̫͂̏a̍ͬ᷅i̼̺ͫm̲̏ͅ ŷ᷇̌o͚̜͕u̺᷊͆r͐᷆͠ s᷁̆͝k̥͊ͬu̓̅᷇l̿̋͘l̶̝̥ f̶ͤ͡o̶̳̙r̼̐̏ Ḵ̙͂h̙᷉͒o᷈̆̃r᷁͏᷈n͂̿͗ȅ͊᷃.ͥͣͯ“ The thing was clearly not used to Low Gothic, and it showed in the way it spoke. It raised its axe. The other hand, now free with the loss of its whip, reached forth to grab the Lord Inquisitor. Radcliffe threw himself to the side just in time to avoid being grabbed.

Something exploded on the beast’s back, prompting the bloodthirster to shriek in pain. It stumbled backwards, turning as it looked for the new threat. “I’ll keep it distracted, my Lord.”

“Danforth?”

“Don’t take too long. I’ve only got three charges left.” Radcliffe spied the man ducking between support columns. He paused once, exposed halfway between points of cover, to release another charge. It was square, the size of a small briefcase. It spun through the air, arcing up and over with Danforth’s expert throw until detonated in the daemon’s face.

Radcliffe looked around. They were running out of time. The longer the bloodthirster was allowed to exist, the stronger its tie to reality became and the harder it would be to banish. Radcliffe reached out mentally, testing the waters as he probed the daemon’s defenses. As he expected, his mind was rebuked. Khorne’s servants always boasted a number of safeguards against psykers.

But flying chunks of masonry were a different story. Another bomb went off, drawing another frustrated scream from the daemon. Radcliffe focused on a long piece of marble, jagged and dangerously spear-like. It was longer than he was tall, and judging by the difficulty he had lifting it even with his prodigious mind, weighed in the neighborhood of several tons. The third and final bomb went off.

“My Lord,” Danforth said, urgency in his tone. “Any time now.”

Radcliffe flung his improvised missile with all his might. The bloodthirster seemed to sense what was happening and turned to face the Inquisitor, but too late. The marble spike impaled the beast through its tainted heart. Blood, black and steaming, fountained forth as if released from a great pressure. The daemon began to thrash about in its death throes. More pillars collapsed under its wild charge until it fell to its knees and toppled over, dead.

Silence fell.

“Are we done?”

Radcliffe coughed powdered marble from his lungs as he turned to look for his erstwhile assassin. He found him secreted up in the rafters. “Yes, we are done. Mister Danforth, are you okay?”

“Aye, but....”

“But, Mister Danforth?”

“But Inquisitor Dolman is...”

“Dead,” Radcliffe said. He felt that nothing of great value had been lost with the man. Dolman, and the rest of his bloody Ordo, could rot in hell for all he cared.

“Yeah.”

“His body will be collected during cleanup, as will the rest.”

Danforth nodded his understanding. “So what does that mean for me?”

“For you, Mister Danforth?”

“Only one left. Inquisitor’s dead. Teammates’re dead. I’m the only one left.”

Radcliffe paused, looking towards the man standing solemnly over his former employer’s corpse. “It means only one thing, Mister Danforth.”

“And what’s that?”

“You work for me now.”

#drabble #400 Follower Recruitment Drive #Taggert Danforth #jdlegacy

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