When any of the occupants of that very tight cargo hold stopped to think about it, they would slowly figure out that: There wasn't a sliver of a hint of "humor" on the Ranger's voice. Not even a femtometric dust of mockery was audible on the Galaxy Wide terrorist. His static-twisted voice, muffled by the gas mask was straight with the words, piercing, analogous to a steel lance. Even so, Sergei didn't barely flinch at the directed buzzing into his eardrums. The stinging headache and the agony of his eyes burning from the crimson glare of the Masked Man. And it puzzled Wong. In so far, in her adrenaline-ridden misadventures with her unit accompanied by the Ranger, she couldn't witness a living being that were so resistant to the brigand’s glare. This didn't made her even a pinch afraid of the cold-blooded rebel, rather, it only perked her interest even more.
What really would be "humorous", though, was decompressing the entire cargo hold. Sucking all the oxygen, that was already rapidly decreasing, and leave them to have a decompressing death. Or, even better, launch the cargo hold into space and see who gets to cannibalize on the other first. Or just drive a single Lucian Defender bullet in the head of each, specially the annoying, yellow canid. That, with all certainity, would be humorous.
There was just only one problem with that task: Apparently, Wong had taken a particular liking to the bigot unaware of what a criminal could do, if you insult him, and he has a high-caliber revolver pointed straight at your head. She wasn't so optimistic about any future relationship with him, though, seeming what the Ranger would probably do whenever she turned her back.
— Mhmm, I 'dunno. Kov-Kov. - Wong questioned with a confused smile at "Kov" duo, distracting herself fiddling with the submachine gun. — Never saw Rangey grudgy for nothing, y'know? — She didn't bother to go in details about the Ranger's exccentric personality, rather, the priority was to focus on the now and hope that everything would be alright in the end. — Well, jam some sense into his head! You have been ditched from... A rather good planet... By a, uh... Masked guy and, err... A bunch of mercs. Yeah, I wouldn't be happy too, eheh, heh, heh... Eh. — She shot a embarassed pout at Thompson in response. Things only changed for her morale once Sergei started talking of what actually happened down at Earth VI.
Except he actually didn't.
— Brief enough for you to get a ride? What are 'yo bunch? Galactic Hitchhikers? — Wong chuckled, letting ou an actual, audible joke, in a pathetic attempt to bring some "humor" to light up the mood of shady runaway mercenary-rebel shenanigans. — And, well, y'know, I won't disclose that. Far as I'm concerned, Rangey wants your head on a pike. I don't 'wanna have mine included, heh, he--
Then the yellow canid broke in.
Something that everyone knew about Jin-Li Huang is that she loved 'animals'. Aliens, as some prefer to cal. From the terrible Thanyotta Taurachnids, to the mystical Olympian Yinxen, ranging to the humongous Lucian Megabeasts, until the Vursakhra's Lassang, again to the grotesque Veteriniusenex Marubili and whatever kind of lifeform inhabiting The Galaxy Wind and beyond. It was nearly impossible for Wong, a seasoned biologist - not exobiologist, as that term was decomissioned with a good reason - to hate an "animal". She even liked non carbon-based lifeforms! No matter how abstract in appearance and behavior they were.
However, something was starting to tingle on the back of the medic's mind. The more Connell blurted, the more she wanted to have him attached to a table. And then he blurted again, seemingly unaware that they were tightly crammed on a small cargo space. That made Wong want to put a titanium-reinforced muzzle on his maw. And they he started screaming about something back in Earth VI, a place they're probably never going back to. That made Wong want to drive a scalpel on his guts and just examine the biology of this canid. With him permanently quiet.
However, she too remained quiet, only an annoyed spectator in a slow round of Intergalactic Championship Quadrichess. Huggies were distributed, death threats and shots fired. However, cuddling time was cut abruptly short by a mild buzzer, and a screen flashing "0²" in red. What interrupted bonding-time, though, was not the actual buzzer or the warning that available Oxygen was about to run out.
— OH, <****>!!! WE'RE 'GONNA CHOKE!!!
The small personnel transport that Wong and another important person had brought to Earth VI to rescue the Ranger was heavily modified, as indicated before. One could see the jury-rigged titanium-niobium plates on the "Safast Travel Co." logo worn out by dust and multiple gunshut marks. This small shuttle, however, had many of its oxygen cylinders replaced to fit in tanks of hydrogen and deuterium for the powerful interplanetary travel engines it had badly strapped on. And, of course, the emergency oxygen recycle was removed to fit in the meaningless single-magazine anti-armor turret the shuttle had attacked on its underbelly.
Of course, Wong could've attached two or more oxygen tanks on it. IF she knew the Ranger would bring some company aboard. And she barely expected for such company to be very agitated, therefore, draining even more of the few oxygen they had left.
Sending a encrypted galactic signal towards the Kingsbane was going to take more than one hour and there was no fuel for another take-off from Earth VI, The Ranger would prefer asphyxiating that going back there, anyway. Only a slow, agonizing death awaited the little merc-rebel diversity on the shuttle.
The Ranger not included.
Lights could be seen millions of kilometers away and the sensors on the cockpit pinged mad. There was activity in "Earth" system coming from another of its planets. That's when the Ranger was reminded the other two planets of this star system, aside from the eliptical-orbit gas dwarf the Kingsbane was hidden.
Solaria was utterly insignificant. It was a terribly average gas giant which failed terribly on the general purpose of gas giants. Instead of pulling stray asteroids away from Earth VI or its other brother-planet, it instead projected powerful jets of plasma and molten rock towards neighboring planets. It was a rare for a world to have pressures enough to make that viable, but still, it was a rare and an annoying occurrence. Every so often, a mining corporation or foundry industry would go bankrupt merely because a one kilometer rock had fallen right in their colony at Stervus. Which, in the other hand, was a much more interesting planet.
In one word, Stervus was an orgy. Dozens of space tourism companies, hundreds of small mining colonies, thousands or habitats and millions of anti-asteroid turrets were scattered in an ugly amalgam of people, technology and greed. The rocky-planet was fed with people through two space elevators, each one at opposing poles, pumping people and machines in and pulling delicious platinum, iron and silica out, among other varying tasty ores. Yet, what was remarkable about Stervus was its independency. For economical reason, even the most powerful empires had failed in acquiring Stervus to their resource-making planet collection. Its output was tiny, for that reason, few had reason to conquer it. However, at the same time, any convoy for whatever Galactic Empire or Foundation of Allied Transgalactic Enterprise that would pass by, it was always convenient to drop by, repair damages, ressuply, feed the crew and get off. The Dimensional Lords didn't need it, and the so-called Lassang found it "Too cold to enslave".
For stray terrorists, mercenaries and rebel soldiers, it was a nice place to rest, eat, buy guns, smuggle and, of course, ressuply rapidly declining oxygen reserves and signal a menacing heavy artillery cruiser to come and re-rescue them.
— Wong. — The infamous voice, distorted by white-nose echoed through and intercom in the cargo hold. — Buckle up. - The blondie rapidly did so, repeating the Ranger's message. — Buckle up! — Apparently, he was barely caring if they fatally hit their heads on the metal corners of the shuttle's insides.
A sliver of mercy from the Ranger allowed Sergei and his dogs to properly strap on. It wouldn't make any difference for the corpse, as, well, it was a corpse, so Wong barely cared to help. After exactly such minute had passed, the shuttle shook immensely, promptly jamming whoever wasn't strapped properly right against a cold metal surface. Broken bones, snapped necks, more corpses, all of that good stuff. Unfortunately, for the Ranger, there was few odds of that well-prepared fireteam of rebels being dull to the point of not buckling up.
The engines emitted furious roars as its thrusters started to jet-out cyan blue blazes, darting the shuttle dangerously fast towards Stervus. The trip was short, yet turbulent, with Wong constantly blurting cursewords for 'feces' whenever she looked at the oxygen display. Sergei or whoever that wasn't thrown around by the immense push could notice a streak of cold sweat descending on the asian's forehead.
Like a badly maintained asteroid-coaster ride, the dash was over. After a few sharp turns and reckless maneuvers, a few more screams and shady landing requests, the Ranger had succesfuly landed the modded-for-war shuttle on a pacific station. The cargo hold opened to a triage counter of sorts, with a receptionist that fast asleep. Right after, the Ranger came out from the cockpit. Revolver in hand. Wong rapidly took her straps off with a relieving sigh and joined beside the Ranger, with a rather disappointed expression at Sergei. Disappointed at the Ranger.
— Get out. - The masked man blurted, fixating his red gaze to Sergei's eyes, mechanical hand in his Lucian Defender's holster. — Now.
What really would be "humorous", though, was decompressing the entire cargo hold. Sucking all the oxygen, that was already rapidly decreasing, and leave them to have a decompressing death. Or, even better, launch the cargo hold into space and see who gets to cannibalize on the other first. Or just drive a single Lucian Defender bullet in the head of each, specially the annoying, yellow canid. That, with all certainity, would be humorous.
There was just only one problem with that task: Apparently, Wong had taken a particular liking to the bigot unaware of what a criminal could do, if you insult him, and he has a high-caliber revolver pointed straight at your head. She wasn't so optimistic about any future relationship with him, though, seeming what the Ranger would probably do whenever she turned her back.
— Mhmm, I 'dunno. Kov-Kov. - Wong questioned with a confused smile at "Kov" duo, distracting herself fiddling with the submachine gun. — Never saw Rangey grudgy for nothing, y'know? — She didn't bother to go in details about the Ranger's exccentric personality, rather, the priority was to focus on the now and hope that everything would be alright in the end. — Well, jam some sense into his head! You have been ditched from... A rather good planet... By a, uh... Masked guy and, err... A bunch of mercs. Yeah, I wouldn't be happy too, eheh, heh, heh... Eh. — She shot a embarassed pout at Thompson in response. Things only changed for her morale once Sergei started talking of what actually happened down at Earth VI.
Except he actually didn't.
— Brief enough for you to get a ride? What are 'yo bunch? Galactic Hitchhikers? — Wong chuckled, letting ou an actual, audible joke, in a pathetic attempt to bring some "humor" to light up the mood of shady runaway mercenary-rebel shenanigans. — And, well, y'know, I won't disclose that. Far as I'm concerned, Rangey wants your head on a pike. I don't 'wanna have mine included, heh, he--
Then the yellow canid broke in.
Something that everyone knew about Jin-Li Huang is that she loved 'animals'. Aliens, as some prefer to cal. From the terrible Thanyotta Taurachnids, to the mystical Olympian Yinxen, ranging to the humongous Lucian Megabeasts, until the Vursakhra's Lassang, again to the grotesque Veteriniusenex Marubili and whatever kind of lifeform inhabiting The Galaxy Wind and beyond. It was nearly impossible for Wong, a seasoned biologist - not exobiologist, as that term was decomissioned with a good reason - to hate an "animal". She even liked non carbon-based lifeforms! No matter how abstract in appearance and behavior they were.
However, something was starting to tingle on the back of the medic's mind. The more Connell blurted, the more she wanted to have him attached to a table. And then he blurted again, seemingly unaware that they were tightly crammed on a small cargo space. That made Wong want to put a titanium-reinforced muzzle on his maw. And they he started screaming about something back in Earth VI, a place they're probably never going back to. That made Wong want to drive a scalpel on his guts and just examine the biology of this canid. With him permanently quiet.
However, she too remained quiet, only an annoyed spectator in a slow round of Intergalactic Championship Quadrichess. Huggies were distributed, death threats and shots fired. However, cuddling time was cut abruptly short by a mild buzzer, and a screen flashing "0²" in red. What interrupted bonding-time, though, was not the actual buzzer or the warning that available Oxygen was about to run out.
— OH, <****>!!! WE'RE 'GONNA CHOKE!!!
The small personnel transport that Wong and another important person had brought to Earth VI to rescue the Ranger was heavily modified, as indicated before. One could see the jury-rigged titanium-niobium plates on the "Safast Travel Co." logo worn out by dust and multiple gunshut marks. This small shuttle, however, had many of its oxygen cylinders replaced to fit in tanks of hydrogen and deuterium for the powerful interplanetary travel engines it had badly strapped on. And, of course, the emergency oxygen recycle was removed to fit in the meaningless single-magazine anti-armor turret the shuttle had attacked on its underbelly.
Of course, Wong could've attached two or more oxygen tanks on it. IF she knew the Ranger would bring some company aboard. And she barely expected for such company to be very agitated, therefore, draining even more of the few oxygen they had left.
Sending a encrypted galactic signal towards the Kingsbane was going to take more than one hour and there was no fuel for another take-off from Earth VI, The Ranger would prefer asphyxiating that going back there, anyway. Only a slow, agonizing death awaited the little merc-rebel diversity on the shuttle.
The Ranger not included.
Lights could be seen millions of kilometers away and the sensors on the cockpit pinged mad. There was activity in "Earth" system coming from another of its planets. That's when the Ranger was reminded the other two planets of this star system, aside from the eliptical-orbit gas dwarf the Kingsbane was hidden.
Solaria was utterly insignificant. It was a terribly average gas giant which failed terribly on the general purpose of gas giants. Instead of pulling stray asteroids away from Earth VI or its other brother-planet, it instead projected powerful jets of plasma and molten rock towards neighboring planets. It was a rare for a world to have pressures enough to make that viable, but still, it was a rare and an annoying occurrence. Every so often, a mining corporation or foundry industry would go bankrupt merely because a one kilometer rock had fallen right in their colony at Stervus. Which, in the other hand, was a much more interesting planet.
In one word, Stervus was an orgy. Dozens of space tourism companies, hundreds of small mining colonies, thousands or habitats and millions of anti-asteroid turrets were scattered in an ugly amalgam of people, technology and greed. The rocky-planet was fed with people through two space elevators, each one at opposing poles, pumping people and machines in and pulling delicious platinum, iron and silica out, among other varying tasty ores. Yet, what was remarkable about Stervus was its independency. For economical reason, even the most powerful empires had failed in acquiring Stervus to their resource-making planet collection. Its output was tiny, for that reason, few had reason to conquer it. However, at the same time, any convoy for whatever Galactic Empire or Foundation of Allied Transgalactic Enterprise that would pass by, it was always convenient to drop by, repair damages, ressuply, feed the crew and get off. The Dimensional Lords didn't need it, and the so-called Lassang found it "Too cold to enslave".
For stray terrorists, mercenaries and rebel soldiers, it was a nice place to rest, eat, buy guns, smuggle and, of course, ressuply rapidly declining oxygen reserves and signal a menacing heavy artillery cruiser to come and re-rescue them.
— Wong. — The infamous voice, distorted by white-nose echoed through and intercom in the cargo hold. — Buckle up. - The blondie rapidly did so, repeating the Ranger's message. — Buckle up! — Apparently, he was barely caring if they fatally hit their heads on the metal corners of the shuttle's insides.
A sliver of mercy from the Ranger allowed Sergei and his dogs to properly strap on. It wouldn't make any difference for the corpse, as, well, it was a corpse, so Wong barely cared to help. After exactly such minute had passed, the shuttle shook immensely, promptly jamming whoever wasn't strapped properly right against a cold metal surface. Broken bones, snapped necks, more corpses, all of that good stuff. Unfortunately, for the Ranger, there was few odds of that well-prepared fireteam of rebels being dull to the point of not buckling up.
The engines emitted furious roars as its thrusters started to jet-out cyan blue blazes, darting the shuttle dangerously fast towards Stervus. The trip was short, yet turbulent, with Wong constantly blurting cursewords for 'feces' whenever she looked at the oxygen display. Sergei or whoever that wasn't thrown around by the immense push could notice a streak of cold sweat descending on the asian's forehead.
Like a badly maintained asteroid-coaster ride, the dash was over. After a few sharp turns and reckless maneuvers, a few more screams and shady landing requests, the Ranger had succesfuly landed the modded-for-war shuttle on a pacific station. The cargo hold opened to a triage counter of sorts, with a receptionist that fast asleep. Right after, the Ranger came out from the cockpit. Revolver in hand. Wong rapidly took her straps off with a relieving sigh and joined beside the Ranger, with a rather disappointed expression at Sergei. Disappointed at the Ranger.
— Get out. - The masked man blurted, fixating his red gaze to Sergei's eyes, mechanical hand in his Lucian Defender's holster. — Now.
Though the crowd he was a part of reacted greatly to the rude man's approach and interruption, the lizard didn't turn to interact with them just yet. He suspected strongly that letting his guard down in any way would prompt a premature attack and worse-- he might actually be injured by that strange prosthetic.
Shashi held still, flicking out his tongue while watching the subtlest motions his prospective opponent made. The lizard's footing shifted as the man roared and lunged forward and he sprung backwards as the hydraulic arm swung, barely avoiding the attack. Chairs and tables skid, clattered and fell behind him as his jump took him uncomfortably close to the counter. Despite this the reptoid seemed unperturbed, sweeping his leg so as to potentially trip the belligerent patron.
Assuming this motion was successful Shashi would place his foot atop his fallen opponent's and press down sharply (Intending to break smaller bones and twist his ankle). It was more simplistic than other things he could do but the reptoid wasn't done in the bar yet; so he thought it'd best he damaged as little as possible, aside from the man.
Shashi held still, flicking out his tongue while watching the subtlest motions his prospective opponent made. The lizard's footing shifted as the man roared and lunged forward and he sprung backwards as the hydraulic arm swung, barely avoiding the attack. Chairs and tables skid, clattered and fell behind him as his jump took him uncomfortably close to the counter. Despite this the reptoid seemed unperturbed, sweeping his leg so as to potentially trip the belligerent patron.
Assuming this motion was successful Shashi would place his foot atop his fallen opponent's and press down sharply (Intending to break smaller bones and twist his ankle). It was more simplistic than other things he could do but the reptoid wasn't done in the bar yet; so he thought it'd best he damaged as little as possible, aside from the man.
The Kingsbane
Outer Space
For a brief instant, the astrophyisicist had forgotten how alien that Girl's mind could be. Speculative facts seemingly popped at an instant, theories were formed on spot with said beliefs and all of those racing thoughts made the old mind weary; seemingly callous to the current state of things and some aspects of the Girl itself. Amidst this self-propelled confusion, Severin had forgotten that, for an 'alien', the Kingsbane was itself very alien as well.
At all times, he wore a confident smirk on the lips of his weary-skinned face; very observant of the Girl's very observations of the surroundings. Under normal circumstances, he would press some buttons on the side of this cramped room exit, or entrance. However, he was vigilant for her. He carefully reached his fingers for the buttons, five lined in a vertical row, and pressed the fifth, with utmost caution, almost as if it was a very sensitive control for some unstable device.
As a strange silence befell on the room, her eccentric dialect, coupled with the very familiar "Idiot" made Severin groan, as he contained a burst of laugh at the, well, idiocy of it. The moments after, the room shuddered abruptly. The late Second Century machinery that composed the Kingsbane complained on its unmaintained weariness as the room apparently started to slowly fall. Of course, Severin stood firm, the supposed frailty of his body simply denied to comply for the unseen forces that shook the Girl were she was standing. However, as she might had expected, the firm but easy grasp of his wrinkly hand was at her shoulder, aiding to remain stable.
He had forgotten, that even an ancient elevator would have been understand to the Girl as a highly advanced gadget of incomprehensible brilliance.
Her sudden terror and desperate embrace was strangely surprising. Briefly, Severin became detached from her emotions, instead, seeing that as if she had detected a dangerous cosmic presence around or within the Kingsbane. Immediately, he reached for his goggles, only for it to display the usual list of pending maintenance and recently known space anomalies Wanheed had cruised on. Within it, a grim reminder of what happened with thousand of stars. Apart from this, everything was completely normal.
Slowly, her fear was starting to make sense; the Girl was simply afraid of the elevator itself.
Only when it finally came into a halt, the Girl noticed the gravity of the crime she had committed. On her outworldly standards, at least.
The astrophysicist were left in a state of nothing more than dumbfoundedness. Now, this was a curious observation. Severin's suspicions about her photographic memory arose; did she had a recalling from the traumatic time of her bane? Or was it a manifestation of her metadimensional abilities? Did she knew what was beyond this door, after it strangely moved? That didn't matter - her face wore the same dreaded horror as when the White Barbarian committed a certain atrocity.
After tricking Wanheed and his dogs into such confusion at the Tactical Hall, everything Severin wanted to do was to praise the Girl for such hilarious idiocy, in the face of a dangerous interstellar cruise among enemy territory. And he rightly did so now. Singlehandedly, Severin landed his hand on her head, ruffling her silvery-blonde hair, apparently without a single care in the Galaxy Wide. All while he laughed, both in how she looked like "Idiot", in certain ways, and in how he was relieved that such murderous disaster was rewinded.
Finally, while failing to get the old man's attention, the door creaked behind him, opening into a space heavily distinct from once they were. It was a definite change from the rusted machinery and constant mechanical groans from before. The floors were of clear stainless steel, almost taking into an aluminum tone. Two duos, each seated at opposing ends of the place, focused on runes and inscriptions on black screens, tapped on more buttons and kept constant attention on said objects. Also, most importantly, save from the elevator entrance, the room lacked walls. From beyond and below, an amalgam of eccentric machines, coppery tubular structures composed most of its space, while countless women and men seemed to mind their own very important business.
However, there was something very notable on this room; the unnerving circular structure pointed right towards this silver-white room Severin and the Girl were introduced. Glowing crimson lines, coupled with blinking azure streaks ran over most of the gunblack structure. And, very briefly, if she looked at it, the Girl could feel a familiar, soothing feeling of...
... Eternity.
The thought, if she even had time process it, came with a pleasant gesture. The old man was extending his hand to her. Palm open with fingers together. Along with it, he uttered a set of words she very possibly knew now. — 'Come'.
He was offering her. His own Contact.
Outer Space
For a brief instant, the astrophyisicist had forgotten how alien that Girl's mind could be. Speculative facts seemingly popped at an instant, theories were formed on spot with said beliefs and all of those racing thoughts made the old mind weary; seemingly callous to the current state of things and some aspects of the Girl itself. Amidst this self-propelled confusion, Severin had forgotten that, for an 'alien', the Kingsbane was itself very alien as well.
At all times, he wore a confident smirk on the lips of his weary-skinned face; very observant of the Girl's very observations of the surroundings. Under normal circumstances, he would press some buttons on the side of this cramped room exit, or entrance. However, he was vigilant for her. He carefully reached his fingers for the buttons, five lined in a vertical row, and pressed the fifth, with utmost caution, almost as if it was a very sensitive control for some unstable device.
As a strange silence befell on the room, her eccentric dialect, coupled with the very familiar "Idiot" made Severin groan, as he contained a burst of laugh at the, well, idiocy of it. The moments after, the room shuddered abruptly. The late Second Century machinery that composed the Kingsbane complained on its unmaintained weariness as the room apparently started to slowly fall. Of course, Severin stood firm, the supposed frailty of his body simply denied to comply for the unseen forces that shook the Girl were she was standing. However, as she might had expected, the firm but easy grasp of his wrinkly hand was at her shoulder, aiding to remain stable.
He had forgotten, that even an ancient elevator would have been understand to the Girl as a highly advanced gadget of incomprehensible brilliance.
Her sudden terror and desperate embrace was strangely surprising. Briefly, Severin became detached from her emotions, instead, seeing that as if she had detected a dangerous cosmic presence around or within the Kingsbane. Immediately, he reached for his goggles, only for it to display the usual list of pending maintenance and recently known space anomalies Wanheed had cruised on. Within it, a grim reminder of what happened with thousand of stars. Apart from this, everything was completely normal.
Slowly, her fear was starting to make sense; the Girl was simply afraid of the elevator itself.
Only when it finally came into a halt, the Girl noticed the gravity of the crime she had committed. On her outworldly standards, at least.
The astrophysicist were left in a state of nothing more than dumbfoundedness. Now, this was a curious observation. Severin's suspicions about her photographic memory arose; did she had a recalling from the traumatic time of her bane? Or was it a manifestation of her metadimensional abilities? Did she knew what was beyond this door, after it strangely moved? That didn't matter - her face wore the same dreaded horror as when the White Barbarian committed a certain atrocity.
After tricking Wanheed and his dogs into such confusion at the Tactical Hall, everything Severin wanted to do was to praise the Girl for such hilarious idiocy, in the face of a dangerous interstellar cruise among enemy territory. And he rightly did so now. Singlehandedly, Severin landed his hand on her head, ruffling her silvery-blonde hair, apparently without a single care in the Galaxy Wide. All while he laughed, both in how she looked like "Idiot", in certain ways, and in how he was relieved that such murderous disaster was rewinded.
Finally, while failing to get the old man's attention, the door creaked behind him, opening into a space heavily distinct from once they were. It was a definite change from the rusted machinery and constant mechanical groans from before. The floors were of clear stainless steel, almost taking into an aluminum tone. Two duos, each seated at opposing ends of the place, focused on runes and inscriptions on black screens, tapped on more buttons and kept constant attention on said objects. Also, most importantly, save from the elevator entrance, the room lacked walls. From beyond and below, an amalgam of eccentric machines, coppery tubular structures composed most of its space, while countless women and men seemed to mind their own very important business.
However, there was something very notable on this room; the unnerving circular structure pointed right towards this silver-white room Severin and the Girl were introduced. Glowing crimson lines, coupled with blinking azure streaks ran over most of the gunblack structure. And, very briefly, if she looked at it, the Girl could feel a familiar, soothing feeling of...
... Eternity.
The thought, if she even had time process it, came with a pleasant gesture. The old man was extending his hand to her. Palm open with fingers together. Along with it, he uttered a set of words she very possibly knew now. — 'Come'.
He was offering her. His own Contact.
Maltese Station
The girl boy in the suit looks over at Nirix as she pass the money back. He got it and smirks at her "Aw come on, my beautiful Ecolu, a woman such as you must live a little no? Who doesn't want to get pissed drunk, gamble and touch skin?" as he looks over at Ketin and gives him a friendly wink. "I also forgot to mention that drinks are free so you are more than welcome to get shit faced if that is what you plan on doing" as he gave a small cute chuckle, before looking over at the older man and correcting him in his timing in when the ship leaves. Hayden shakes his head and says "No, no, no, my fine older gentlemen, I think you misheard me. You have a couple of hours before your ship leaves, but what I saying that before your flight leaves, I'll go ahead and get all three of you back to the station with 15 minutes to spare before ship departs" as he looks over at him. As he turns towards Ketin the owner of the store comes out of no where and begins to shoo Hayden away.
"Hey old geezer! Live a little! Hey!" he states as he was slowly pushed out. However seeing Ketin and assumingly the rest of his gang, and follow the boy, put a smile on Hayden face and not feeling irritated anymore. "Right this way" he states as he has them following him towards a innocent teleporter node on the ground within a open cylinder like tube, in order for the teleporter to be accessed one at a time. Hayden steps closer to the teleporter before turning around "Like I said earlier, don't panic when you see the silver bracelets on your wrists, it so that you be able to use any teleporter node within the casino to return back to the station. He looks at Ketin gives a flirty smile and says "Don't worry I'll be with you through this entire experience" as does a back flip into the teleporter having him vanish into thin air.
Luckly for Hayden, they wouldn't see him land flat on his ass on the other side, but he quickly got into position. As they arrive, they would be met in a dark room, but they would be able to see two large doors in front of them in this increbile darkness as the light peers through the cracks and hustle and bustle of a large amount of people can be heard through the doors. Once through the doors they see it...
A style that was long forgotten only hinted by the mobster in what he wore back on the Perrygold. Walls of almost gold with elegant designs and stoic faces of a man plaster upon the wall in various parts of the wall so that it isn't too ominous(Think of the ones in Fallout 3 and 4) compared to lively nature of the place. It had the feeling and look of the as if stepping into the book The Great Gatsby as the swinger music blared loudly from a large gilded bird cage that swings occasionally from ceiling which houses the robotic band that plays the music. The floor was filled with things that can overload the senses, with flashing lights slot machines and the people cheering as they win or the whimpering as they lose upon the many gambling tables. The smell of scented cigar and cigarettes as well as a few other smokables premates the entire casino, but no overwhelming enough to cause someone to get sick from. This entire place seemed like an entire city! With humans, monsters, aliens and sorts of creatures roaming about handing the deals who were either humanoid or robotic casino chips, credits, gold bars or anything worth of value by the gambler, with scantly clad women making rounds with alcoholic drinks
How little people know that they aren't even in there universe anymore...they were in a Dimensional Lord's Realm and New Vegas is not only a mega sized Casino, but the actual realm of Hayden Skylar, Dimensional Lord of Luck, Vice and Corruption!
Hayden comes out from the side with a posse of men and women in rather revealing outfits. "Welcome friends to New Vegas! Home and business of yours truly" as he gives a bow. The human and some alien woman went for the Foxy grandpa circling around him and trying pulling towards an area where games the kind of games like Chess and such would be played. Hayden would slip a black card into his pocket, basically letting Arnaldo play to his heart content without worry of busting the bank. Then a group of rather hot and sexy Ecolus that have fallen towards corruption, go to surround Nirix and basically worship her as if she was a Goddess. Hayden couldn't help but smile and hands her a black card saying "Go crazy and live a little" giving the Arnaldo and Nirix the royal treatment. Hayden would then put his arm around Ketin's shoulder and says "I'll make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble" as he looks at him and gives him a wink. "Come on now, let us drink till we are blue" Hayden says to Ketin as they both walk down the Casino floor towards a very large bar with bottles stacked high with a robotic bartender giving others there drinks at blissfully high speed. "Order what you wish, it is free after all and I'll keep up" as Hayden puts his arm on the bar top and looks at Ketin lustfully, admiring the fox boys beauty and can't wait to party with him
The girl boy in the suit looks over at Nirix as she pass the money back. He got it and smirks at her "Aw come on, my beautiful Ecolu, a woman such as you must live a little no? Who doesn't want to get pissed drunk, gamble and touch skin?" as he looks over at Ketin and gives him a friendly wink. "I also forgot to mention that drinks are free so you are more than welcome to get shit faced if that is what you plan on doing" as he gave a small cute chuckle, before looking over at the older man and correcting him in his timing in when the ship leaves. Hayden shakes his head and says "No, no, no, my fine older gentlemen, I think you misheard me. You have a couple of hours before your ship leaves, but what I saying that before your flight leaves, I'll go ahead and get all three of you back to the station with 15 minutes to spare before ship departs" as he looks over at him. As he turns towards Ketin the owner of the store comes out of no where and begins to shoo Hayden away.
"Hey old geezer! Live a little! Hey!" he states as he was slowly pushed out. However seeing Ketin and assumingly the rest of his gang, and follow the boy, put a smile on Hayden face and not feeling irritated anymore. "Right this way" he states as he has them following him towards a innocent teleporter node on the ground within a open cylinder like tube, in order for the teleporter to be accessed one at a time. Hayden steps closer to the teleporter before turning around "Like I said earlier, don't panic when you see the silver bracelets on your wrists, it so that you be able to use any teleporter node within the casino to return back to the station. He looks at Ketin gives a flirty smile and says "Don't worry I'll be with you through this entire experience" as does a back flip into the teleporter having him vanish into thin air.
Luckly for Hayden, they wouldn't see him land flat on his ass on the other side, but he quickly got into position. As they arrive, they would be met in a dark room, but they would be able to see two large doors in front of them in this increbile darkness as the light peers through the cracks and hustle and bustle of a large amount of people can be heard through the doors. Once through the doors they see it...
A style that was long forgotten only hinted by the mobster in what he wore back on the Perrygold. Walls of almost gold with elegant designs and stoic faces of a man plaster upon the wall in various parts of the wall so that it isn't too ominous(Think of the ones in Fallout 3 and 4) compared to lively nature of the place. It had the feeling and look of the as if stepping into the book The Great Gatsby as the swinger music blared loudly from a large gilded bird cage that swings occasionally from ceiling which houses the robotic band that plays the music. The floor was filled with things that can overload the senses, with flashing lights slot machines and the people cheering as they win or the whimpering as they lose upon the many gambling tables. The smell of scented cigar and cigarettes as well as a few other smokables premates the entire casino, but no overwhelming enough to cause someone to get sick from. This entire place seemed like an entire city! With humans, monsters, aliens and sorts of creatures roaming about handing the deals who were either humanoid or robotic casino chips, credits, gold bars or anything worth of value by the gambler, with scantly clad women making rounds with alcoholic drinks
How little people know that they aren't even in there universe anymore...they were in a Dimensional Lord's Realm and New Vegas is not only a mega sized Casino, but the actual realm of Hayden Skylar, Dimensional Lord of Luck, Vice and Corruption!
Hayden comes out from the side with a posse of men and women in rather revealing outfits. "Welcome friends to New Vegas! Home and business of yours truly" as he gives a bow. The human and some alien woman went for the Foxy grandpa circling around him and trying pulling towards an area where games the kind of games like Chess and such would be played. Hayden would slip a black card into his pocket, basically letting Arnaldo play to his heart content without worry of busting the bank. Then a group of rather hot and sexy Ecolus that have fallen towards corruption, go to surround Nirix and basically worship her as if she was a Goddess. Hayden couldn't help but smile and hands her a black card saying "Go crazy and live a little" giving the Arnaldo and Nirix the royal treatment. Hayden would then put his arm around Ketin's shoulder and says "I'll make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble" as he looks at him and gives him a wink. "Come on now, let us drink till we are blue" Hayden says to Ketin as they both walk down the Casino floor towards a very large bar with bottles stacked high with a robotic bartender giving others there drinks at blissfully high speed. "Order what you wish, it is free after all and I'll keep up" as Hayden puts his arm on the bar top and looks at Ketin lustfully, admiring the fox boys beauty and can't wait to party with him
The Kingsbane
The girl flinched visibly, shrinking back as the weathered old hand came toward her. She pressed her back into the wall, cowering before him, fists clenched at her chest.
The Death Touch, then.
That was how she would be sent into her final, permanent unbeing.
She deserved it. She had always
The aged hand touched her head, and fingers intertwined with the white-blonde hair, pushing up under the black backwards baseball cap. The girl froze, body tense, teeth clenched.
The girl’s heart would have fluttered, if she had one. Instead there was an internal reaction to the same effect, and it was indefinably visible. A delighted smile tugged at her lips immediately following the realization, the intoxicating sensation of fingers through hair that was, like this place, utterly alien and new. And delightful beyond description. A wonder.
She didn’t want him to stop, but he did - that was fair. Already it was a gift of gifts. Though it seemed unlikely that the affection would prove anything but addictive, she would be content enough just for the memory.
It took her a moment of blank staring before she realized what he was doing next. Vaguely she sensed that the doors to the cruel moving room were open, but she paid no mind. She was too busy staring wide-eyed in utter astonishment at the old man’s extended hand.
After a long moment staring at it in rapt disbelief, she looked up to his face, still a mask of bewilderment. He was smiling. He said that word again, the one that meant ’to follow’.
Impossible - and yet…
She looked back to the hand as if he were presenting her with some priceless artifact. Again she looked back to him, visibly doubting him but too overwhelmed to express it in anything but bewildered skepticism. She blinked. She looked back and forth between his face and outstretched hand several more times.
Then, carefully, slowly, she raised her own hand, the smooth, almost alabaster skin beneath the curious fingerless glove the antithesis of the old man’s withered flesh like worn leather.
Carefully, carefully, delicately as if handling a nuclear bomb,
Ever so gently, the girl took the old man’s hand. Barely touching him, clearly preparing for the worst.
A strange sensation would flash through Benedict Severin, then. Something minute, almost imperceptible. It was a feeling not of vastness, but of depth. As if he had made the briefest connection with a nearly limitless well of...of what? Knowledge? No. Closer to a feeling of fundamental comprehension. The feeling of freedom of a kind he had never imagined. The freedom to walk among the atoms and know that he and they were not so different. It was a wonderful sensation, but it lasted hardly a second. A smart of the eyes, and it was gone.
She held her hand in his for a long time, it seemed. Gradually, as she came to the conclusion that he was not trying to trick her, her grip tightened a little and she started to look like she was going to...cry? She seemed to be restraining herself with every fiber of her being.
Then, with no warning, the girl lunged toward the old man as if to tackle him, body-slam him into the wall. Instead however, he impacted him with only a slight lurch, as if she were all but weightless. She pressed herself into his chest, nuzzling fervently into the soft crook of his arm. Arms tucked up at her chest, hands gripped at his shirt or jacket as if he might otherwise float away.
She proceeded to bawl her eyes out for a considerable period of time, impenetrably resisting any attempts on his part to wriggle out of the contact or otherwise escape. She clung for dear life. She couldn’t resist. Couldn’t risk losing it. It had been too long. Too much. Too much to hold in, to keep at bay.
And again, as she contacted him, there was an infinitesimal sensation of the distant powers of the universe, pounding in the forever like so many wide waterfalls, gentle and powerful. The sensation of pure thought, uninhibited by any weak mortal coil. Intelligence without form. A universe that existed around him, despite him. Abstraction incarnate. And then, in less than a second, it was gone, and there was only the girl cuddling into him and weeping with a catharsis that seemed too long bottled away for a creature who seemed so very young.
Eventually, the girl settled down. Then, reluctantly, she pulled away from him, looking embarrassed at the floor, with one timid, apologetic glance up at him. She wiped her eyes with one forearm, though curiously there was no moisture where she had pressed her face into his shirt.
And all the while, she still held the hand. Possessively. Desperately. Don’t let go. Please don’t let go. She could not return to isolation now. Not after this. She knew it well. To taste companionship and affection only to have it wrenched away would be too much.
At long last, the girl took a deep breath, and gave a huff, composing herself. The only difference now was the big, beaming smile on her face.
A smile which, unfortunately, was wiped off her face the moment she saw it.
The structure - covered in glowing red lines and streaks of blue that seemed to flicker. Like a siren’s song, it called to her. The image of eternity, of time and space - not visual, but mental.
The girl froze in the doorway, gripping the old man’s hand just a little tighter. She resisted his attempts to walk toward it and was actually surprisingly successful in this.
The structure radiated a calming effect - she could feel it, it was smooth and good - but there was something else. Emptiness. Void. She knew not what that thing was, if it really was related to the ancient serpent-god at all - but it seemed to be. There was more, yes - but all she could focus on was the emptiness that sent shivers down her spine. The calming sensation only registered as some kind of detestable manipulation and she would fight it at all costs - refusing to be entranced by the thing. It was supposed to be soothing. It begged to soothe her.
But all she could see - all she would see - was the terrible color that to her signified terror and darkness alone.
She was too scared to actually do anything. She persistently tried to keep the old man from going toward it, even going so far as to take several steps back with him in tow. There was fear in her expression, yes - but something new now, as well. Resolve. Steely persistence. The courage to accept the anxiety and face it. After all, she was not so alone now…
”Uh uh.” She expressed, shaking her head. As in her expression, the voice reflected fear, but also determination. Then, with slight uncertainty as to the correctness of the word, she added ”No.”
Interlude - Kremlin Mall
Devastation.
The faintest sliver of his shattered conscious stood there, barely a translucent glimmer of blue that hovered almost imperceptibly in the air. No nose had he, to inhale the reek of death that wafted along corridors plastered with the vitrified remains of the damned - yet he inhaled deeply, and the rank odor became him.
No eyes had he, to behold the facades heaped high with corpses, yet he saw them, and looked down impassively.
His coming had been a glorious nightmare. The great, crimson battleship dragged through the stars by insectoid vessels appearing from nowhere without warning, surrounded by smaller ships that seemed to buzz like flies in the silence of space.There had been not an instant for the hapless invaders to prepare, and they had not stood a chance.
These heathens, these defilers that would seek to stand even in the same system as the Lady Dulcinea would be little more than fodder.
It was with an impassive, distracted rage that he waved a hand, silently communicating to his private legion to go forth, and destroy. Devour. Multiply. Conquer.
They had swarmed around the bulky station like files among a severed boar’s head. They had collided with their enemies in a frenzied rage, great metal bugs pouring through ach gaping wound to wreak havoc aboard the unsuspecting vessels.
Those which had not been overrun were blown to nothingness by an insurmountable torrent of weaponry vomited forth from the maw of the []Crimson Spear - the dilapidated warship that would bring the peace of death to this place. Those scant vessels that had made an escape were too insignificant to waste even the virtually limitless resources to destroy.
He was the first of them to step foot on the station itself, even while simultaneously remaining upon the bridge of his terrible warship - though only a sliver of him - shredded into infinitesimal scraps of consciousness by the golden gun that hurled blue thunder.
She had called for no such invasion, but she was wise enough to know the hopelessness of trying to stop it. The frenzied Dendril, convinced that their God was in mortal danger, would not rest until every last glimmer of life was scoured from her vicinity.
And scoured they had. They burst through the walls, pouring in undulating waves, flooding, overwhelming, consuming. A Killing frenzy, a red-mist of bloodlust and the ecstacy not of battle, but of massacre.
The once prosperous space station known as Kremlin Mall was no more. Reduced to a lifeless husk of metal floating alone in the vastness of space.
And though it had been he who brought this death upon the occupants, innocent or otherwise - he hardly shared the bloodlust of his fraternal brethren. Indeed he was apathetic, even dispassionate. It was not to say that there was no pleasure to be had in watching the wretches be torn apart in droves by his monstrous allies - only that there were more important matters at hand. He was driven by a feral urgency that lurked within his nonexistent innards. Memories of the emptiness he had glimpsed in the nothingness above Isandril.
He had not spoken to her until all of the life had been washed away from the station. He had merely stood there, manifesting only as a faint, cyan glow hovering in two meager epicenters some seven feet off the ground behind her.
She would recognize his presence, however weak and tenuous his grasp on existence was.
And finally, after some indeterminate time, the cleansing of the station was complete. He knew of it intrinsically. Only now that not a single heretic cowered within the walls and halls of the station would his voice of tattered silk be heard - and then too, only by the one he called Dulcinea.
“M͏y La҉dy̷”
The deep baritone, smooth as moonsilk but torn and hoarse with jagged stone spoke into her left ear. Behind her, the floating points of faint light bobbed forward and down to half their height. She knew well that, had he been more visibly constituted, she would see the tall, grey-suited man with his long, blonde hair and mutilated, eyeless face lowered to one knee as a night before his queen. He had always insisted on greeting her as such, regardless of her will.
He was silent for a long time. He did not answer anything she might have said. Weakened as he was, with only so scant a scrap of consciousness dedicated to that particular point in space, speaking was an endeavor which required much concentration.
“T̶he͘ V͏̭̮o̜̭̣͇͚͜i̘̙͕d̠̘̘ͅ.”
The words came clearly enough, audible to her, unstrained. Unhurried. Cryptic to be sure, but she would have expected nothing else of the madman that was barely a man. The one who, in the quest for peace under her charge, had been torn to pieces mind, body and, mayhaps, even soul.
She knew so little about him - for so little could be known. What was he? Some monstrous chimera of man and the Ancient Enemy. The bastard son of a Child-God. Possibly the single most dangerous entity in the multiverse. An entity of such instability and malevolence that his mere existence threatened time and space itself.
Yet she could not destroy him - could not touch him - even despite her own vast power.
She knew only that he was loyal. He had been created to be loya, before he had been shattered. He served no master but the Lord of Time and Space. He held no resentment at his imprisonment, which had lasted for untold eons. She had locked him away, aware of the danger he posed merely by existing. Only when the Mysterious Signal cried out through the universe and the ancient world Isandril had been revealed from its’ impossible hiding place had he been released, despite the risks, to finish the job he had started at the beginning of time.
“I hav̸e ̵s͞eeǹ.́.͘.T͠h͟e V͏̘̙͇ ̴̙̰̥̼̤̝o̘͝ i̗͘ ̗̘̣̦͓̥̦͜d̻̩͈͉̬͓̦ . . .”
Gradually, the vague form of a human body began to take shape before her, as h focused more of his existence there. He became a translucent fog of thin mist - an imperceptible distortion on space-time. The voice that spoke deeply into her left ear became richer, fuller - and yt contemplative and pondrous.
“̷D̛o̧ ́y͢ou k͡n̶ow ̢o̡f͞ ̕the V̶o̟i̛̟͖̫d̬̯̮͖͞?̨̗” He asked, rhetorically. “T̨h̷e̡ E̯x̼̼͕̮̯͓̙p҉̮̤̪͙a͓̫͔̖̲͙͕n͓͕̕s͈͉̻ͅe͖̖̺͍̫?̩̭̻͖” Of course she knew of the Void. She was the Lord of Time and Space. She was almost godlike in her power and wisdom. She knew secrets of the universe that lesser minds could not begin to comprehend. She was a creature of unknowable extent - an eldritch lady. The Dendril revered her, as did he - with good reason.
But while she knew well of the Void - it was a realm beyond her reach. As the farmer tills the earth, Void was the atoms that made the soil. She could not go there. Nobody could. It was not for a lack of power, but the sheer impossibility of physical laws never dreamed of by primitive Earthly scholars. Void could not be touched. Void could not be manipulated nor governed. But she knew of it, indeed. She knew well.
There was little one could say in the face of true madness - and it was compounded by the lingering fact that, of all the entities in space and time, only he was beyond her reach of power. She knew that he could not be destroyed, and worse still had no way of knowing what he was capable of. Given that it took all of his mental strength and willpower to make physical contact with anything at all, it seemed unlikely that he could hurt her. Surely he would not turn on his Lady, and she would never have the slightest reason to believe he would - but he was a true abomination by definition, and no entity with heart nor mind could truly be at ease in his presence. It was, in part, that reason why he had been sealed away after his original purpose had been fulfilled. He was dangerous beyond measure and truly insane, since the accident - nearly unpredictable.
“In͝ ̛th̕ȩ t̷imel͠eśs̨n̴e͠s͜s҉ b̡eforȩ th͝ȩ F̴i͐͑ͤ̅̒ͭ́rͣ͢s̅̔̿̎͟tͥͮ...͘t̵h̕e̸re w͡as V̼̳̤͔̥̟o̞̗̰̦i̤̤̖̥d҉̮̺̱.̸̭͉͙̱̯̭” He explained, cryptically. “I̴n͟ V̲͖̫̗ó̰̹̳͖͉̱i̵͍̞̤d̷̪͍̖̘̣̭, there was N̜̭̖̗̳̻͘o̝t̫̬̜͝h̤̩̥̱͚͔̮i̬n̦ͅg̥n͍͚͡e̡͙̦s̳̲̪̬s̫͚͚̖͡” The words had a lyrical sense of intoning that could not be placed. “And when the Cͭͯͯͬ̚h̛͛̄̍ͦ̔̏̾īͧ̎l̶̃̈́͗ͩ̅ͣͣd͟rě́̋̉̈́͢nͣ́ ̑ͮͥó̡͆ͧͬ̃̍f ̈G͒ͣ̈́ͦ̍͠oͣd͛ͯ̊̌̑͟ ĺook̴e͞d͘ ̢in̷t̨o t͜h̀e Vo̥̯͡i͓͈̰̗̮͘d̡̘̘ wh͢i͡c̀h͞ p͜re̷c͢ed͏e̵d ҉the̡m, ͏t͢he̴y͞ ̸saw t̢he S͎̮͙͇̳e͉̣̥͓r̝͚̼̲p̴͇̻én̫t. E̹̺̥̮’҉͈͎͕̺͔i͕̣̻̙̻͈͙͞a̳̰̟̲̳͘ ̻͍S’̨͇ry̹̰̗w҉̠̱i̟͖͕͙͕̖͘n͙͍̠͙é.”
It was nonsense - but familiar. Could it be that there were secrets even the all-powerful Lords could not know? Secrets that could only be learned through destruction at the hands of quantum forces? If such secrets did exist, they would be scattered within the broken, incorporeal almost-mind that projected itself before her.
“In̷ ͡th͡e̵ crim͘son ́eýe̸s of t͞h̶e͞ S̝͓̼̙e̢͍̯̟r͙͉͉̯̥͉͠p̶͈̘̘̣e̜̝͔̱̣̣̕ͅn͟t̨͚, théy s̀a͘w͢ E̷͇̱m͇͜p͏͈̫̟͎̪ͅt͈̣̲̥͢i͕̯̼͓̩ne̢̱̖s͙̤s̵̝͖̺̫͈̠͚̤̖̀. The Se̩̯̺̟̜͖ͅr̹͍ͅp̷̣̞̲͙͈en̹̠t̪̙ was҉ E̦͕m̠̼̱̮̣p̼͓̻t͖̯̯͎͕̗́i̫n͙̣̝͚̖̯ͅess̘͕̺. I̴t̴ h͠ad͜ nó na͟m̵e͜. ͝T͡hey̶ ͡n͜aḿe͢d̡ t͜h̛e D͍͍̻͉̳͙͘a̝̘̯̺̰̣̻r̜͠k̴̥͓̪n͟e̙̣͙͔͔̩̹͝s͓͓̠s͔̹ Ǵ̡̹̹͙̰̉̽ͬ̃̎ͣi̥͇̝͙ͅr̢̤͓̻͖̪̻̦̒ͬͤ͗̊ͯͦa̢̺̤̭̰̙ͮ̿ͮaͬ̇͗̐ͨ͒̚͏̹̻̲̩̗̻͇s̱͓̳̗̠̮̤̄ì͔͔͚̭ͅlͬͭ̃ a̴nd ̷s̨tol͏e awa̴y͘ in͜to̢ t́he̵ ͘la͏nd of ̶th̕e͠ l͊ͧi͘gͧ̽̌̎͐hͪ͂̚t̓̀ͬ̓ͯ t͟o ̷f̕lee̵ the V̖͓͓̬̲͓̥́̽̈́̓͂ͤo̢̍ͣ̔̈͋͑ͭi̫̞̥̣͖̾͒ͪd̺͈͖̦͙ͦ͟-͓͕̝͑̿̚M͎̫̱̗̰ḭ̴̥̇n̪̝̫͕̘̦̭͑̒ͬ͆ͦ̊͡d̬̣͚̘̝̥̐̾̄ͧͧ̀̚͜…”
His somber verses tailed off then, and a long moment of silence followed. Only the occasional, distant skittering of a wayward Dendril. A million other slivers of his consciousness, spread out across unknowable distances, scattered by the vicious deathblows of a golden gun which shot ethereal thunder.
It seemed that whatever point the Shadow Man was trying to make, he had suddenly given up on. When he spoke next, his gravel-silk baritone was frank and almost businesslike.
“T̸h̢e S͒̚t̹̫̻̠̊̂͑̌e̵̹̮̱͓̣͎̒̽̽ͪ͑l̸̺̙̇͆l̴͚̬̣̞̗͓͚̔ȧ ̜͕̹̘͍̣̐͊̔͊̓̀͛͞V̋̅̎̾i̱̟vͣe̸̙n̩̠͈̼ͣ̋̾ͯ̋ͮ̓ti̳̾͐̔ͯ͋̉̚ȗ͓͗͑̉͒͒ͣm͈͐ͫ̌͜ wi͟ll̴fa̼̥̤̱̺͙l̬l.̕ ̸͕͇̪̗T̗h͉͓͍̰͘e̶̦͖͍͎̣̭ͅ ̯̙͖Ma̛̪̱͓̥̤̜̻d͖͚̖̦ ̹̪͚̘̳̜̺̕C̢̼̟͖̣à̪̜̞p̲̙͇̗͕̗t̢̰̱͎̗̫͕ai̡̜̫n͔̬͖̗̪’s fór̷b͏id̀d̴en̛ tec̸h̨n͟o͡l̀o͢gy͏ w͢iĺl̴ b͜e d͢e̶s͢troy̕e͠ḑ a͞ńd ͟pl̢a̴gu̡e̵ ýour̨ re͏a̸lm͟ ̨ńo̵ f̀ur̴the̵r.̢ Ţhi͘s ͟I promise̸ y͟où. Bùt͞ fir͢s͡t...theD̝r̛̳̩͖͚̤e͖̤̳̻a̙̟͚̝̙ͅd̰-̶͉͕͕̼̮̭S̜̠͔͉̯̘h̬̖̥̬̭̣͍i̹̮͙̜̝̲̤p̀ ̢K̻̼i̥̞̘̜͟n̬͙̯̘͈͍͠g҉s̭̳̼̣͕̠b̧̩̰̬̖͙͖̮a̶͎̫̫n̸̲e̳̟͚̮̖ͅ must ̶fa͝l̢l.̢ a̴t a͜ll͞ ͡c̢ost̡s̴.”
“Ti͂̿ͣ̈m̐͏è̀ an̶d S̄͆p̆̈ͬͩ̆aͬcͪͣ̆ͣͮͯ̆è…th̟̼e̠̹̤̼̖ ̨͕̠͉Ù̮̟̰n̳̱i̧̪͕͔̯ṿ̳e̻̠r̟͙̪se̸ ̰͞i̡̥t̼̟̟s̳̤̱ͅe̱͝l̮͈̰f...de̶pe̸n͜ds̵ ̸o͡n҉ ìt.”
???
Leng Ty’zfir stared groggily at the ceiling. He was not certain as to just how long he had been doing so, nor was he certain as to the nature of time itself. What was the ceiling? What was time? He was too sleepy to think of such things now. He could think of them later.
But as he lay there, staring up in the darkness, something nagged at his mind. A vague urgency - as if he had recently dreamed of a great emergency and was only now remembering, in the distant way that dreams were remembered, the problem.
But there was no problem. He was more-or-less comfortable under whatever it was on top of him. He was very sleepy.
So Ty fell asleep again, with his last thought before dreamlessness being an absent muse at why the ceiling looked rather like the floor, for no apparent reason he cared to pinpoint.
Fellerton Sands got unsteadily to his feet, arms flailing briefly about at either side as he once more became acquainted with the concept of gravity and balance. Having initially failed twice in this endeavor, the third time was as of yet looking better. Finally, he realized, he was standing up straight. This was a difficult realization, given the oppressive darkness that surrounded him from all sides, save for the insignificant speck of light somewhere above and to his left that had first aroused him from his slumber.
But yes, he decided - he was definitely standing now. The next step was to further get his bearings and better assess the situation. He was also very hungry, and would have done almost anything for a decent sandwich - but for some indefinable reason, he was aware that this was indeed not the time to be having a sandwich of any quality, let alone a decent one.
Coughing up something small and wet that made a vulgar sound as it hit the wall, Sands began to work his way carefully around the pitch-black space, feeling for things that might give him some semblance of direction as he made his way toward the pinprick of light. There were lots of metal things, many of them smooth and cool but with a disconcerting number of them jagged and broken. This place must have been some kind of death-trap, he mused in silence.
As it happened, the pinprick of light was just that. A pinprick of light. He put his finger over it, and it went out. He removed his finger, and there it was again. He felt around the wall to no avail. It was just a wall. A wall with a tiny hole in it, from beyond which shone some kind of light.
Disheartened but persistent, Sands began once more feeling his way meticulously around the blackness of the room. Surely there had to be a way out. As it happened, there was. It felt like a door, and it even opened like a door - though not any kind of modern door that he knew of. There was a little control pad beside it, but he had pressed the buttons blindly and nothing had happened. There was a little manual handle too however, he pulled - then yanked - and it slid open with limited resistance.
Beyond it was another dark room - but less dark. He could see one wall not far from where he stood in the doorway. He carefully made his way into the second room, and was numbly pleased to see more light - an easy, white light that spilled in from a jagged hole blown rashly through the wall at the far end of what appeared to be a short corridor. He made his way toward it. Something moved in the shadows - one of his friends, he recognized, perhaps more?
Ty awoke again some indeterminate time later with a start. He was suddenly very aware of the sense of urgency that had been lingering beneath the peaceful facade of deep unconsciousness. Something terrible was happening!
Or, rather, something terrible had happened.
It came to him in sickening waves. Not a coherent narrative - but flashes, moments, feelings, clustered and disorganized and nonsensical and upsetting.
Alarms screaming. The ship trembling. Dallen sprinting down the hallway. Chaos. Fire. Claxons wailing. Desperate panic. Chaos. The sinking dread of the realization of coming death. The last-ditch attempts on all parts - the utter confusion as to how this had all happened in the first place. The feeling of plummeting infinitely down, down, down - ever faster. Nobody knew where anyone else was. The smoke and fire had scattered them. They were probably all dead now.
But…
He wasn’t dead, was he?
His abdomen hurt, and he assumed that he would not feel the pressure and pain if he were dead - so Ty concluded that he was not, in fact, dead. That was promising. It meant maybe his other friends had survived. Maybe.
Though given the flashes of memory that had come stabbing back at his mind, it did not seem excessively likely.
Ty felt around his abdomen, identifying some heavy, metallic object pressing down on him. Deep breaths, then he heaved once - twice - and pushed it away. A great weight had been lifted from him and the sensation of it was intoxicating - but there was no time to appreciate it now. He got to his feet. Clung to something to stay that way. Looked around the dimly lit space that he now identified as one of the rooms in the Koolest Boat U Know. He might have been able to determine which room exactly, but that information seemed irrelevant - and besides, it was upside down now.
Someone had been there with him in the last seconds. Someone else was in the room with him. He tried to speak, but only made a small sound with his throat. He coughed, then tried again. Hoarsely he uttered ”Hey. Hey anyone there? You okay?” Then, without waiting for a response, he added ”Gotta’ get out of here. The others.”
Was there movement somewhere else in the darkness? Possibly. Maybe someone had even responded - but he was too dazed to talk any more than he absolutely needed to. He did what he could to help them to stand.
The deep red glow of one remaining emergency light was his guide, leading him to the upside-down door that he had to yank open via the emergency manual handle. What greeted him was immediate, overpowering light, and very invasive corn.
Dallen Armston cursed loudly, and in several dialects as she rhythmically kicked at the escape hatch with one booted foot. It seemed cruel that every other part of the Koolest Boat U Know - now officially the Koolest Boat U Knew - should have so easily fallen to bits...yet the escape hatch held so firm that it was actually impeding its intended purpose.
She hated the stupid tug. Despised it. As to whether or not the wreck was her fault was questionable. The circumstances had worked severely against her, and she was a novice pilot at that. But she had tried! She had done everything in her power to keep the hunk of scrap from dive-bombing into that planet when the stupid autopilot was too incompetent to avoid an obstacle that was...literally the size of a planet.
How could she have known the autopilot would be so bad? Nobody in their right mind would distrust an autopilot to that extent, even a primitive one!
But it was so. The ship had been on a crash-course before they even knew it - it was already too late by the time the alarms had warned them of their coming inevitable doom.
Not so inevitable, at least. That was something. She was alive. She wasn’t alone, at least. That was good. And she could only hope that, once she got the damned escape hatch open, she would find the rest of the Koolest Boat U Knew very close by, with her friends alive and well outside…
Even if whoever she had found herself stuck with some minutes before was capable of helping them escape, she wasn’t about to let them. As far as Dal was concerned, this was her problem to solve - and besides that, she was too angry to not kick the everloving heck out of something. Might as well be the hatch.
At last, with one final CLANG!, the escape hatch flung violently from its crippled hinges. Light poured in, and just below the ringing of the ears there was the faint sound of a bunch of people shouting briefly, followed by silence. ”Got it!” She called back, unnecessarily.
Without waiting for her present companion(s) the ebon-skinned woman with her electric blue shock of cropped hair scrambled over the threshold into the light - and was met with something she had not at all expected.
First there was the sound, which she hard before her eyes had adjusted to the glowing daylight. It was, quite audibly, the sound of a great number of people gasping, yelping, and even shouting what sounded like religious exclamations. Then, standing atop the hefty hunk of scrapped space-yacht and cupping a hand over her eyes to squint down the source of the sound, she saw them.
People.
A small mob of them. Many were clearly humans or something closely resembling them, but among them stood a number of bulky, green-skinned folk with protruding lower fangs and harsh, inelegant features. They were all in various stages of filthy, all dressed in what ranged from rags to threadbare tunics, many with ugly brown burlap sacks over their heads as makeshift hats. They were all armed with household items and farming tools, some with rusty old knives and one with a battered shortsword clutched in a filthy, wavering fist.
Blinking, Dal glanced around to take in her surroundings, She had never been in a place like this before, but vaguely recalled th possibly applicable term ’peasant village from her mind.
Squat, wooden buildings with rough-hewn frames and thatched straw roofs spread out in all directions. Black smoke arose from the occasional chimney. Dirt pathways lined with crude horse-drawn carriages hauling hay or mouldy produce. A stone well. In one direction, past the sea of barbaric structures was a high stone wall, beyond which seemed to sit some kind of fortress or castle..
The only real change in the scenery was the expansive crater that had been gauged out of the earth where the battered hunk of Koolest Boat had come plummeting. It seemed that there had once been a large, stone structure exactly under where they had landed, and bits of colored glass could be seen glinting here and there in the sunlight.
The peasants - she could only think of them as peasants - stood in clumps around the desolate crater, all looking up with apprehension and in some cases, loathing.
Dal blinked again, still trying to process it all. After a long moment of admittedly awkward silence, she raised one hand in an almost sheepish wave. The peasants closest to the foot of the wreck shrunk back.
”Uh…hi?” She said uncertainty, but was interrupted by a squawk from somewhere in the crowd, followed by a furious voice torn by hysteria ”WITCH! The black witch has defiled the Chapel of Motuk!” Another voice, deeper but no less disturbed, shouted almost simultaneously ”Burn the vile demon I say! ‘Lest her festering eggspawn come hatching!” This was followed by an uproarious cheer, and lots of threatening shaking of the brandished rolling pins, pitchforks and hatchets.
Frowning, Dal said directing her voice back down the hatch ”We...I think we got a problem.”
Sands’ relief when he learned that he as not alone was overwhelming, but he spent little time celebrating it. He and whoever he had found in the second room of the wreck of the Koolest Boat had proceeded with haste to scour the remainder of their immediate surroundings for other survivors. They found nobody dead, at least - which was promising.
What was not so promising was what they discovered upon escaping the hunk of wreck, The ship was less intact than they had hoped - and the other pieces were nowhere to be found. Instead, they found themselves in some kind of swampy place, where brown water trickled into the crater made by their explosive landing and thin, chitinous trees drooped lazily toward them. It was cool, and they could vaguely smell the scent of salt that hinted at the relative nearness of a shoreline to the north. Strange birds chirped timidly from within the shade, but no apparent danger made itself as of yet clear.
Sands sighed deeply, leaning heavily on the charred and blackened hull of their part of the wreck, before realizing that it was still hot from the crash and throwing himself off again before he could really be burned.
”Well...What now?” He asked, almost absently.
Great, tall stalks of classic green corn flopped inward atop Ty, forcing him stumbling onto his back. Groaning, he worked his way back into a standing position and proceeded the arduous task of clawing through the dense greenery until at last mounting a small clump of earth that had apparently reared up against the door when the hunk of Koolest had rolled to a stop.
Then he tumbled down the earthy bluff on the other side and lay on his back amidst a small, natural clearing in the corn. Above him, the sky was blue and marked with pleasant streaks of greenish clouds.
Now, he figured, would be a good time to actually communicate with whoever else had awoken with him in the aftermath. He assumed they would be following him presently.
The only member of the Koolest Boat’s crew to wake up in relative peace and comfort was, ironically, the last one who would have wanted it.
The sound of the crackling fire would have been alarming, except that it was accompanied by the rustic scent of burning Lukine cedar-pine wood. Beyond that, there was the gentle, nearly inaudible sound of easy wind through lush foliage. Somewhere, a bird chirped contentedly.
Given that his most recent memory before the present was the utter chaos and dread of coming doom as the crew did everything in their power to keep the ship flying, the current environment was so serene it might have been disturbing.
He was lying on his back. The floor was hard, well-worn wood. Directly beneath him was some kind of woven blanket or mat. Above him could be seen a high ceiling of concentric branches interwoven with a thatched roof, packed so tight that not a glimpse of daylight made it through. A thin bellow of smoke rose up to the ceiling, but there was no hole for it to escape from. Instead it seemed to be absorbed by the dry branches, dissipating into them without resistance.
It was a single room, lit warmly both by the crackling fire in the stone-rimmed central firepit and by unobtrusive little stones that glowed in a surprisingly unthreatening red-orange. They were lashed to the wall with leather thongs. There were lots of other things hanging on the walls besides those - woven blankets, animal skins, drying herbs and jerkies. Hunter-trapper equipment. Some primitive tools. A simple longbow and quiver. A hand-drawn map on yellowed parchment. There was a low table and several small storage chests. Across from him, on the other side of the fire, two or three soft looking animal skins were laid out to form what was clearly a bed. A more comfortable one than he was on, at that.
There were no windows, and there appeared at first to be no door - but upon closer inspection, a panel of lighter wood among the packed walls would prove to serve that purpose, able to be slid aside to reveal an unexpected view, if he chose to do so. Daylight would stream in, filtered through the verdant foliage beyond the mouth of the shallow cave the dwelling was nestled in. The floor of the cavern extended some six feet and promptly dropped, indicating that the cave was inside a cliff face or mountainside. It was difficult to judge just how long of a drop it would be to the ground, but it seemed very likely that even someone as tough as Jet Jackson wouldn’t get away without several shattered bones and a whole lot of serious internal bleeding.
A cool breeze rustled the branches that hung over, largely obscuring the mouth of the cave from outside view. Birds chirped. Above, between the cavern ceiling and the treetops, there was a pale blue sky with pale green clouds.
True, Jet Jackson was the only one out of his friends who had woken up in relative peace and comfort. But he was also the only one to have woken up alone.
The Ark of Chyll
Nope. No monologue or smooth jazz this time either. Call me lazy but - okay, fine. “Something something idiots travel in packs something something seen it before et cetera.”
The fat cyborg lunged, the bulky arm’s hydraulics whirring as his fist drove forth with reckless, but brutal strength. Unfortunately for him, there was no snake-face where had sworn there was snake-face hardly a second ago. Where had the snake-face gone?
Oh, behind him.
The fool would have stumbled and tripped on his own, even without the help of the reptoid. He landed on the floor with a heavy T H U D that shook drinks in glasses like a stomping dinosaur. The old detective gave another antagonizing (Or supportive, depending on how you thought of it,) whistle. It was only then that he noticed something important that most of the others were - with good reason - too distracted to notice. That was his forté, of course. His eyes shifted to the door, he frowned thoughtfully, but otherwise made no move.
Meanwhile, the mighty reptoid was descending upon the provocateur with a vicious curb-stomp - only to find that his foot had come down on what could only be another mechanical limb. This one was obviously more subtle, but the lack of reaction on the victim’s part and the sheer density of the target made it obvious. Likely he had done some damage, but not as much as he had planned. It had been the left leg, of course.
Clégg wsa just opening his mouth to inform his party of the new development he was noticing when the new development interrupted him with an obnoxious howling curse.
”The HAAAAIL you doin’a Curbz y’stupid frog!” Squawked a skinny, grey-faced old man who was standing in the doorway. He was dressed in similar utility clothing and had on his nappy head a high-top cap with the word S W Y F T printed on it in obnoxious yellow lettering. Then he whirled around, addressing someone who was still outside. ”Ayo’ Buster! Chango! Getcho’ bee-hinds in har! We’s gone havin’ ourselves some frog legs!”
As the fat cyborg struggled to stand, knocking tables and chairs around in the tragically clumsy process, the skinny man at the door stepped aside and the shadow of the pale daylight beyond was momentarily obscured. In came two more men, similarly dressed with identical SWYFT caps on their heads. One was squat but burly, the other reasonably bulky with height and muscle on his side. None of them looked very bright.
If the reptoid had been distracted by these newcomers, “Curbz” would take the opportunity to get back up and go for a cheap shot in the process, another swing of the hydraulic fist aimed blindly at wherever he thought his opponent was at the moment.
As the three men began walking over with balled fists and cracking knuckles, Detective Clégg nudged Talis with an elbow without looking, almost as if to say ’Go get ‘em, tiger.’
Not that she needed encouragement, he was sure.
Maltese Station
Though Ketin Clarke was not oblivious to the wink - he was, of course, inside the strange mind of this newcomer as much as anyone’s’ - he was much too busy giggling madly over the very concept of Nirix doing any of the things being suggested to her. Giggling too at the incredible gall this guy had to be talking to her that way in the first place.
But when he heard the magic words ’Drinks are free’ both ears perked and immediately his full attention had been acquired. Ears perked straight up. Without looking, he gave a dismissive gesture in Arnaldo’s general direction, drawling ”Ah, c’mon Arnie. It’s not like any of us were goin’ anywhere important anyhow, right?” Anyone looking too much into it might have wondered if, and how he knew where his new friend had been going. It was just another thing that he intrinsically knew - but shouldn’t. ”I mean we’ll get back in time alright but so what if we don’t?”
He was decided. Just like with everything else he did, his mind was made up. He was going. They were going with him. He wasn’t going to force them any more than just grabbing Nirix’s hand as he started toward the place - but they were going with him. They always did.
Mentioning ’silver bracelets’ did get a spark of something like lucidity out of him, just for a moment. That sounded an awful lot like ’handcuffs’ - and while he wasn’t adverse to their strategic use in certain intimate situations, being put into them outside of the bedroom/living room/elevator/park bench/opium den/rooftop/car/train/starship/cargo crate/ancient ruin/milkbar/grassy knoll usually did not go his way.
He was relieved when he saw only one, and secretly looked into it with his mind in order to snoop out any danger.
”Wow. Teleporter, huh? Snazzy.” He commented, strolling into the thing without a second thought.
What followed was an overwhelming display of chaotic decadence. Lights, sounds, smells, sights - so many sights! It seemed insane that he had gone all this time without ever knowing about this place.
”Great Galaxy!” He exclaimed, using that weird expression that nobody in their right mind used ever. ”This place is great!” His sensitive ears were adept at handling loud noises if they were consistent, background noises - so he was able to adjust quickly.
He was so distracted by it all that he was startled for an instant when an arm wrapped around his shoulders - but it didn’t show. He just beamed a cheeky smile alternately between his two friends. ”Oh no, no trouble at all totally!” He said, and it was impossible to tell if he was joking or actually trying to convince them.
If Nirix had voiced concerns or protests, he had listened patiently then waved them away.
He didn’t feel bad about leaving her behind - after all, just because they were great friends didn’t mean they always had to be stuck to each other.
”I’ll catch up with ya’ soon~!” He called back to them, before disappearing into the throngs with his escort. Before he had even reached the bar, the Fox had done a little hop and plucked a drink off a tray that someone was carrying to its actual intended recipient, without stopping.
And, of course, the two of them were making all sorts of eyes at each other as they arrived at the bar, Kete commencing his latest binge with all the style and excess he could manage.
The girl flinched visibly, shrinking back as the weathered old hand came toward her. She pressed her back into the wall, cowering before him, fists clenched at her chest.
The Death Touch, then.
That was how she would be sent into her final, permanent unbeing.
She deserved it. She had always
deserved it.
”You have been lucky, little keeper. More than your primitive pseudomind will ever be able to understand.” He growled, standing over her like some great, crimson monolith, looking down with the pale blue eyes that signified his infinite superiority over her. The superiority of the Soul. Of True Being. ”We do not need you so badly that we will put up with your constant insubordination forever...You deserve unbeing and you know it.”
Despite herself, even against her will, the girl gritted her teeth and shook her head in defiance, even as she held eyes shut tight and head facing the floor. The man standing over her flared, his pale face becoming a mask of incredulity at the brat’s continued resistance.
”You fool!” He bellowed suddenly, striking the girl with a vicious kick that sent her stumbling back into the wall, clutching at her abdomen with both arms but refusing to cry out. Stepping forth, the red robed man swung the golden staff out to one side in a flourish and thrust it toward her, so that the heavy forked piece stabbed to either side of her neck, pinning her there. She yelped, her breathing erratic, but made sure to stay very still, not letting her neck touch the sharp prods that seemed to dig into the gilded wall.
”You worthless little thing!” He roared, leaning in as he held the staff firmly trapping her. She refused to look at him, eyes shut tight, reacting to each word as if it were a physical blow to her head. ”We do not need you. Nobody needs a defective thing. I am tired of being forced to deal with you just because you are Insmouth’s favorite little pet. You need to be dealt with.”
A low whine escaped the terror-stricken girl’s throat as she saw, through closed eyes, the cyan-blue glow begin to emanate from the base of the forked staff. She would die. She would be sent to unbeing. This time she had gone too far.
Brighter, brighter still became that deadly light. She could do nothing. She was helpless. And he was right - she did deserve it. She had always known. It was always like this. Stupid girl. Never knew when to quit. Never stayed where she belonged. Always pushing, pushing, and this time she had pushed too far.
”You have been lucky, little keeper. More than your primitive pseudomind will ever be able to understand.” He growled, standing over her like some great, crimson monolith, looking down with the pale blue eyes that signified his infinite superiority over her. The superiority of the Soul. Of True Being. ”We do not need you so badly that we will put up with your constant insubordination forever...You deserve unbeing and you know it.”
Despite herself, even against her will, the girl gritted her teeth and shook her head in defiance, even as she held eyes shut tight and head facing the floor. The man standing over her flared, his pale face becoming a mask of incredulity at the brat’s continued resistance.
”You fool!” He bellowed suddenly, striking the girl with a vicious kick that sent her stumbling back into the wall, clutching at her abdomen with both arms but refusing to cry out. Stepping forth, the red robed man swung the golden staff out to one side in a flourish and thrust it toward her, so that the heavy forked piece stabbed to either side of her neck, pinning her there. She yelped, her breathing erratic, but made sure to stay very still, not letting her neck touch the sharp prods that seemed to dig into the gilded wall.
”You worthless little thing!” He roared, leaning in as he held the staff firmly trapping her. She refused to look at him, eyes shut tight, reacting to each word as if it were a physical blow to her head. ”We do not need you. Nobody needs a defective thing. I am tired of being forced to deal with you just because you are Insmouth’s favorite little pet. You need to be dealt with.”
A low whine escaped the terror-stricken girl’s throat as she saw, through closed eyes, the cyan-blue glow begin to emanate from the base of the forked staff. She would die. She would be sent to unbeing. This time she had gone too far.
Brighter, brighter still became that deadly light. She could do nothing. She was helpless. And he was right - she did deserve it. She had always known. It was always like this. Stupid girl. Never knew when to quit. Never stayed where she belonged. Always pushing, pushing, and this time she had pushed too far.
The aged hand touched her head, and fingers intertwined with the white-blonde hair, pushing up under the black backwards baseball cap. The girl froze, body tense, teeth clenched.
He tousled her hair.
”Cardinal-Brother.” A stern, baritone voice barked from beyond her executioner. The light diminished as his focus broke and he whirled around, still trapping her with the staff, to face the one who had spoken. ”That is enough.” He finished after a tense moment, softer but with iron behind the words.
It was him. Her heart leaped even as she stay pinned to the wall. The man in the red and gold robes stiffened, then an icy cold formality fell over him. Glaring hate at the girl from glacial eyes, he turned to face the source of the voice. The girl opened her eyes, but did not move. She wanted to cry.
”I beg your pardon.” he said, insincerely, nodding his head slightly.Then he looked back to the newcomer with harsh eyes and spoke in a think, cutting voice. ”But you know as well as I that this mental-runt can not be allowed to disrupt matters such as she does for much longer.”
The man only stared down the robed one, and at last he departed with a tut and a dismissive wave of the hand.
Her savior stood there, looking down at her as she broke down and stumbled timidly toward him, unable to meet his icy gaze until she was standing before him, shoulders hunched, hands together, her own big, colorless eyes looking up at him pleading for forgiveness - perhaps sympathy? He was no stranger to the impact a simple embrace could have…
Gingerly, pleadingly she reached out and gently pawed at the man’s white coat tips of fingers barely contacting the garment at all.
”Cardinal-Brother.” A stern, baritone voice barked from beyond her executioner. The light diminished as his focus broke and he whirled around, still trapping her with the staff, to face the one who had spoken. ”That is enough.” He finished after a tense moment, softer but with iron behind the words.
It was him. Her heart leaped even as she stay pinned to the wall. The man in the red and gold robes stiffened, then an icy cold formality fell over him. Glaring hate at the girl from glacial eyes, he turned to face the source of the voice. The girl opened her eyes, but did not move. She wanted to cry.
”I beg your pardon.” he said, insincerely, nodding his head slightly.Then he looked back to the newcomer with harsh eyes and spoke in a think, cutting voice. ”But you know as well as I that this mental-runt can not be allowed to disrupt matters such as she does for much longer.”
The man only stared down the robed one, and at last he departed with a tut and a dismissive wave of the hand.
Her savior stood there, looking down at her as she broke down and stumbled timidly toward him, unable to meet his icy gaze until she was standing before him, shoulders hunched, hands together, her own big, colorless eyes looking up at him pleading for forgiveness - perhaps sympathy? He was no stranger to the impact a simple embrace could have…
Gingerly, pleadingly she reached out and gently pawed at the man’s white coat tips of fingers barely contacting the garment at all.
The girl’s heart would have fluttered, if she had one. Instead there was an internal reaction to the same effect, and it was indefinably visible. A delighted smile tugged at her lips immediately following the realization, the intoxicating sensation of fingers through hair that was, like this place, utterly alien and new. And delightful beyond description. A wonder.
She didn’t want him to stop, but he did - that was fair. Already it was a gift of gifts. Though it seemed unlikely that the affection would prove anything but addictive, she would be content enough just for the memory.
It took her a moment of blank staring before she realized what he was doing next. Vaguely she sensed that the doors to the cruel moving room were open, but she paid no mind. She was too busy staring wide-eyed in utter astonishment at the old man’s extended hand.
After a long moment staring at it in rapt disbelief, she looked up to his face, still a mask of bewilderment. He was smiling. He said that word again, the one that meant ’to follow’.
Impossible - and yet…
She looked back to the hand as if he were presenting her with some priceless artifact. Again she looked back to him, visibly doubting him but too overwhelmed to express it in anything but bewildered skepticism. She blinked. She looked back and forth between his face and outstretched hand several more times.
Then, carefully, slowly, she raised her own hand, the smooth, almost alabaster skin beneath the curious fingerless glove the antithesis of the old man’s withered flesh like worn leather.
Carefully, carefully, delicately as if handling a nuclear bomb,
she reached for his hand.
All at once, the newcomer’s face turned to a mask of disgust and rage and he swung his arm out to the left. An invisible force plowed into her had enough to send her careening into the wall some yards away. Her body slammed into the wall with a disconcerting, fleshy thwack and she fell limply to the floor in a disheveled, trembling, whimpering heap.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just glaring own at her from across the room, his icy blue eyes like daggers, but without the pain. He looked as if about to speak. Instead he shook his head in revulsion and departed.
She should have expected that, she knew. There could have been no other outcome. Just another example of pushing things too far when she knew better. Just because he took pity on her, or perhaps was amused by her constant belligerence - that didn't mean he would break the ancient and sacred traditions of his people.
She laid there for a long time.
All at once, the newcomer’s face turned to a mask of disgust and rage and he swung his arm out to the left. An invisible force plowed into her had enough to send her careening into the wall some yards away. Her body slammed into the wall with a disconcerting, fleshy thwack and she fell limply to the floor in a disheveled, trembling, whimpering heap.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just glaring own at her from across the room, his icy blue eyes like daggers, but without the pain. He looked as if about to speak. Instead he shook his head in revulsion and departed.
She should have expected that, she knew. There could have been no other outcome. Just another example of pushing things too far when she knew better. Just because he took pity on her, or perhaps was amused by her constant belligerence - that didn't mean he would break the ancient and sacred traditions of his people.
She laid there for a long time.
Ever so gently, the girl took the old man’s hand. Barely touching him, clearly preparing for the worst.
A strange sensation would flash through Benedict Severin, then. Something minute, almost imperceptible. It was a feeling not of vastness, but of depth. As if he had made the briefest connection with a nearly limitless well of...of what? Knowledge? No. Closer to a feeling of fundamental comprehension. The feeling of freedom of a kind he had never imagined. The freedom to walk among the atoms and know that he and they were not so different. It was a wonderful sensation, but it lasted hardly a second. A smart of the eyes, and it was gone.
She held her hand in his for a long time, it seemed. Gradually, as she came to the conclusion that he was not trying to trick her, her grip tightened a little and she started to look like she was going to...cry? She seemed to be restraining herself with every fiber of her being.
Then, with no warning, the girl lunged toward the old man as if to tackle him, body-slam him into the wall. Instead however, he impacted him with only a slight lurch, as if she were all but weightless. She pressed herself into his chest, nuzzling fervently into the soft crook of his arm. Arms tucked up at her chest, hands gripped at his shirt or jacket as if he might otherwise float away.
She proceeded to bawl her eyes out for a considerable period of time, impenetrably resisting any attempts on his part to wriggle out of the contact or otherwise escape. She clung for dear life. She couldn’t resist. Couldn’t risk losing it. It had been too long. Too much. Too much to hold in, to keep at bay.
And again, as she contacted him, there was an infinitesimal sensation of the distant powers of the universe, pounding in the forever like so many wide waterfalls, gentle and powerful. The sensation of pure thought, uninhibited by any weak mortal coil. Intelligence without form. A universe that existed around him, despite him. Abstraction incarnate. And then, in less than a second, it was gone, and there was only the girl cuddling into him and weeping with a catharsis that seemed too long bottled away for a creature who seemed so very young.
Eventually, the girl settled down. Then, reluctantly, she pulled away from him, looking embarrassed at the floor, with one timid, apologetic glance up at him. She wiped her eyes with one forearm, though curiously there was no moisture where she had pressed her face into his shirt.
And all the while, she still held the hand. Possessively. Desperately. Don’t let go. Please don’t let go. She could not return to isolation now. Not after this. She knew it well. To taste companionship and affection only to have it wrenched away would be too much.
At long last, the girl took a deep breath, and gave a huff, composing herself. The only difference now was the big, beaming smile on her face.
A smile which, unfortunately, was wiped off her face the moment she saw it.
The structure - covered in glowing red lines and streaks of blue that seemed to flicker. Like a siren’s song, it called to her. The image of eternity, of time and space - not visual, but mental.
The girl froze in the doorway, gripping the old man’s hand just a little tighter. She resisted his attempts to walk toward it and was actually surprisingly successful in this.
The structure radiated a calming effect - she could feel it, it was smooth and good - but there was something else. Emptiness. Void. She knew not what that thing was, if it really was related to the ancient serpent-god at all - but it seemed to be. There was more, yes - but all she could focus on was the emptiness that sent shivers down her spine. The calming sensation only registered as some kind of detestable manipulation and she would fight it at all costs - refusing to be entranced by the thing. It was supposed to be soothing. It begged to soothe her.
But all she could see - all she would see - was the terrible color that to her signified terror and darkness alone.
She was too scared to actually do anything. She persistently tried to keep the old man from going toward it, even going so far as to take several steps back with him in tow. There was fear in her expression, yes - but something new now, as well. Resolve. Steely persistence. The courage to accept the anxiety and face it. After all, she was not so alone now…
”Uh uh.” She expressed, shaking her head. As in her expression, the voice reflected fear, but also determination. Then, with slight uncertainty as to the correctness of the word, she added ”No.”
Interlude - Kremlin Mall
Devastation.
The faintest sliver of his shattered conscious stood there, barely a translucent glimmer of blue that hovered almost imperceptibly in the air. No nose had he, to inhale the reek of death that wafted along corridors plastered with the vitrified remains of the damned - yet he inhaled deeply, and the rank odor became him.
No eyes had he, to behold the facades heaped high with corpses, yet he saw them, and looked down impassively.
His coming had been a glorious nightmare. The great, crimson battleship dragged through the stars by insectoid vessels appearing from nowhere without warning, surrounded by smaller ships that seemed to buzz like flies in the silence of space.There had been not an instant for the hapless invaders to prepare, and they had not stood a chance.
These heathens, these defilers that would seek to stand even in the same system as the Lady Dulcinea would be little more than fodder.
It was with an impassive, distracted rage that he waved a hand, silently communicating to his private legion to go forth, and destroy. Devour. Multiply. Conquer.
They had swarmed around the bulky station like files among a severed boar’s head. They had collided with their enemies in a frenzied rage, great metal bugs pouring through ach gaping wound to wreak havoc aboard the unsuspecting vessels.
Those which had not been overrun were blown to nothingness by an insurmountable torrent of weaponry vomited forth from the maw of the []Crimson Spear - the dilapidated warship that would bring the peace of death to this place. Those scant vessels that had made an escape were too insignificant to waste even the virtually limitless resources to destroy.
He was the first of them to step foot on the station itself, even while simultaneously remaining upon the bridge of his terrible warship - though only a sliver of him - shredded into infinitesimal scraps of consciousness by the golden gun that hurled blue thunder.
She had called for no such invasion, but she was wise enough to know the hopelessness of trying to stop it. The frenzied Dendril, convinced that their God was in mortal danger, would not rest until every last glimmer of life was scoured from her vicinity.
And scoured they had. They burst through the walls, pouring in undulating waves, flooding, overwhelming, consuming. A Killing frenzy, a red-mist of bloodlust and the ecstacy not of battle, but of massacre.
The once prosperous space station known as Kremlin Mall was no more. Reduced to a lifeless husk of metal floating alone in the vastness of space.
And though it had been he who brought this death upon the occupants, innocent or otherwise - he hardly shared the bloodlust of his fraternal brethren. Indeed he was apathetic, even dispassionate. It was not to say that there was no pleasure to be had in watching the wretches be torn apart in droves by his monstrous allies - only that there were more important matters at hand. He was driven by a feral urgency that lurked within his nonexistent innards. Memories of the emptiness he had glimpsed in the nothingness above Isandril.
He had not spoken to her until all of the life had been washed away from the station. He had merely stood there, manifesting only as a faint, cyan glow hovering in two meager epicenters some seven feet off the ground behind her.
She would recognize his presence, however weak and tenuous his grasp on existence was.
And finally, after some indeterminate time, the cleansing of the station was complete. He knew of it intrinsically. Only now that not a single heretic cowered within the walls and halls of the station would his voice of tattered silk be heard - and then too, only by the one he called Dulcinea.
“M͏y La҉dy̷”
The deep baritone, smooth as moonsilk but torn and hoarse with jagged stone spoke into her left ear. Behind her, the floating points of faint light bobbed forward and down to half their height. She knew well that, had he been more visibly constituted, she would see the tall, grey-suited man with his long, blonde hair and mutilated, eyeless face lowered to one knee as a night before his queen. He had always insisted on greeting her as such, regardless of her will.
He was silent for a long time. He did not answer anything she might have said. Weakened as he was, with only so scant a scrap of consciousness dedicated to that particular point in space, speaking was an endeavor which required much concentration.
“T̶he͘ V͏̭̮o̜̭̣͇͚͜i̘̙͕d̠̘̘ͅ.”
The words came clearly enough, audible to her, unstrained. Unhurried. Cryptic to be sure, but she would have expected nothing else of the madman that was barely a man. The one who, in the quest for peace under her charge, had been torn to pieces mind, body and, mayhaps, even soul.
She knew so little about him - for so little could be known. What was he? Some monstrous chimera of man and the Ancient Enemy. The bastard son of a Child-God. Possibly the single most dangerous entity in the multiverse. An entity of such instability and malevolence that his mere existence threatened time and space itself.
Yet she could not destroy him - could not touch him - even despite her own vast power.
She knew only that he was loyal. He had been created to be loya, before he had been shattered. He served no master but the Lord of Time and Space. He held no resentment at his imprisonment, which had lasted for untold eons. She had locked him away, aware of the danger he posed merely by existing. Only when the Mysterious Signal cried out through the universe and the ancient world Isandril had been revealed from its’ impossible hiding place had he been released, despite the risks, to finish the job he had started at the beginning of time.
“I hav̸e ̵s͞eeǹ.́.͘.T͠h͟e V͏̘̙͇ ̴̙̰̥̼̤̝o̘͝ i̗͘ ̗̘̣̦͓̥̦͜d̻̩͈͉̬͓̦ . . .”
Gradually, the vague form of a human body began to take shape before her, as h focused more of his existence there. He became a translucent fog of thin mist - an imperceptible distortion on space-time. The voice that spoke deeply into her left ear became richer, fuller - and yt contemplative and pondrous.
“̷D̛o̧ ́y͢ou k͡n̶ow ̢o̡f͞ ̕the V̶o̟i̛̟͖̫d̬̯̮͖͞?̨̗” He asked, rhetorically. “T̨h̷e̡ E̯x̼̼͕̮̯͓̙p҉̮̤̪͙a͓̫͔̖̲͙͕n͓͕̕s͈͉̻ͅe͖̖̺͍̫?̩̭̻͖” Of course she knew of the Void. She was the Lord of Time and Space. She was almost godlike in her power and wisdom. She knew secrets of the universe that lesser minds could not begin to comprehend. She was a creature of unknowable extent - an eldritch lady. The Dendril revered her, as did he - with good reason.
But while she knew well of the Void - it was a realm beyond her reach. As the farmer tills the earth, Void was the atoms that made the soil. She could not go there. Nobody could. It was not for a lack of power, but the sheer impossibility of physical laws never dreamed of by primitive Earthly scholars. Void could not be touched. Void could not be manipulated nor governed. But she knew of it, indeed. She knew well.
There was little one could say in the face of true madness - and it was compounded by the lingering fact that, of all the entities in space and time, only he was beyond her reach of power. She knew that he could not be destroyed, and worse still had no way of knowing what he was capable of. Given that it took all of his mental strength and willpower to make physical contact with anything at all, it seemed unlikely that he could hurt her. Surely he would not turn on his Lady, and she would never have the slightest reason to believe he would - but he was a true abomination by definition, and no entity with heart nor mind could truly be at ease in his presence. It was, in part, that reason why he had been sealed away after his original purpose had been fulfilled. He was dangerous beyond measure and truly insane, since the accident - nearly unpredictable.
“In͝ ̛th̕ȩ t̷imel͠eśs̨n̴e͠s͜s҉ b̡eforȩ th͝ȩ F̴i͐͑ͤ̅̒ͭ́rͣ͢s̅̔̿̎͟tͥͮ...͘t̵h̕e̸re w͡as V̼̳̤͔̥̟o̞̗̰̦i̤̤̖̥d҉̮̺̱.̸̭͉͙̱̯̭” He explained, cryptically. “I̴n͟ V̲͖̫̗ó̰̹̳͖͉̱i̵͍̞̤d̷̪͍̖̘̣̭, there was N̜̭̖̗̳̻͘o̝t̫̬̜͝h̤̩̥̱͚͔̮i̬n̦ͅg̥n͍͚͡e̡͙̦s̳̲̪̬s̫͚͚̖͡” The words had a lyrical sense of intoning that could not be placed. “And when the Cͭͯͯͬ̚h̛͛̄̍ͦ̔̏̾īͧ̎l̶̃̈́͗ͩ̅ͣͣd͟rě́̋̉̈́͢nͣ́ ̑ͮͥó̡͆ͧͬ̃̍f ̈G͒ͣ̈́ͦ̍͠oͣd͛ͯ̊̌̑͟ ĺook̴e͞d͘ ̢in̷t̨o t͜h̀e Vo̥̯͡i͓͈̰̗̮͘d̡̘̘ wh͢i͡c̀h͞ p͜re̷c͢ed͏e̵d ҉the̡m, ͏t͢he̴y͞ ̸saw t̢he S͎̮͙͇̳e͉̣̥͓r̝͚̼̲p̴͇̻én̫t. E̹̺̥̮’҉͈͎͕̺͔i͕̣̻̙̻͈͙͞a̳̰̟̲̳͘ ̻͍S’̨͇ry̹̰̗w҉̠̱i̟͖͕͙͕̖͘n͙͍̠͙é.”
It was nonsense - but familiar. Could it be that there were secrets even the all-powerful Lords could not know? Secrets that could only be learned through destruction at the hands of quantum forces? If such secrets did exist, they would be scattered within the broken, incorporeal almost-mind that projected itself before her.
“In̷ ͡th͡e̵ crim͘son ́eýe̸s of t͞h̶e͞ S̝͓̼̙e̢͍̯̟r͙͉͉̯̥͉͠p̶͈̘̘̣e̜̝͔̱̣̣̕ͅn͟t̨͚, théy s̀a͘w͢ E̷͇̱m͇͜p͏͈̫̟͎̪ͅt͈̣̲̥͢i͕̯̼͓̩ne̢̱̖s͙̤s̵̝͖̺̫͈̠͚̤̖̀. The Se̩̯̺̟̜͖ͅr̹͍ͅp̷̣̞̲͙͈en̹̠t̪̙ was҉ E̦͕m̠̼̱̮̣p̼͓̻t͖̯̯͎͕̗́i̫n͙̣̝͚̖̯ͅess̘͕̺. I̴t̴ h͠ad͜ nó na͟m̵e͜. ͝T͡hey̶ ͡n͜aḿe͢d̡ t͜h̛e D͍͍̻͉̳͙͘a̝̘̯̺̰̣̻r̜͠k̴̥͓̪n͟e̙̣͙͔͔̩̹͝s͓͓̠s͔̹ Ǵ̡̹̹͙̰̉̽ͬ̃̎ͣi̥͇̝͙ͅr̢̤͓̻͖̪̻̦̒ͬͤ͗̊ͯͦa̢̺̤̭̰̙ͮ̿ͮaͬ̇͗̐ͨ͒̚͏̹̻̲̩̗̻͇s̱͓̳̗̠̮̤̄ì͔͔͚̭ͅlͬͭ̃ a̴nd ̷s̨tol͏e awa̴y͘ in͜to̢ t́he̵ ͘la͏nd of ̶th̕e͠ l͊ͧi͘gͧ̽̌̎͐hͪ͂̚t̓̀ͬ̓ͯ t͟o ̷f̕lee̵ the V̖͓͓̬̲͓̥́̽̈́̓͂ͤo̢̍ͣ̔̈͋͑ͭi̫̞̥̣͖̾͒ͪd̺͈͖̦͙ͦ͟-͓͕̝͑̿̚M͎̫̱̗̰ḭ̴̥̇n̪̝̫͕̘̦̭͑̒ͬ͆ͦ̊͡d̬̣͚̘̝̥̐̾̄ͧͧ̀̚͜…”
His somber verses tailed off then, and a long moment of silence followed. Only the occasional, distant skittering of a wayward Dendril. A million other slivers of his consciousness, spread out across unknowable distances, scattered by the vicious deathblows of a golden gun which shot ethereal thunder.
It seemed that whatever point the Shadow Man was trying to make, he had suddenly given up on. When he spoke next, his gravel-silk baritone was frank and almost businesslike.
“T̸h̢e S͒̚t̹̫̻̠̊̂͑̌e̵̹̮̱͓̣͎̒̽̽ͪ͑l̸̺̙̇͆l̴͚̬̣̞̗͓͚̔ȧ ̜͕̹̘͍̣̐͊̔͊̓̀͛͞V̋̅̎̾i̱̟vͣe̸̙n̩̠͈̼ͣ̋̾ͯ̋ͮ̓ti̳̾͐̔ͯ͋̉̚ȗ͓͗͑̉͒͒ͣm͈͐ͫ̌͜ wi͟ll̴fa̼̥̤̱̺͙l̬l.̕ ̸͕͇̪̗T̗h͉͓͍̰͘e̶̦͖͍͎̣̭ͅ ̯̙͖Ma̛̪̱͓̥̤̜̻d͖͚̖̦ ̹̪͚̘̳̜̺̕C̢̼̟͖̣à̪̜̞p̲̙͇̗͕̗t̢̰̱͎̗̫͕ai̡̜̫n͔̬͖̗̪’s fór̷b͏id̀d̴en̛ tec̸h̨n͟o͡l̀o͢gy͏ w͢iĺl̴ b͜e d͢e̶s͢troy̕e͠ḑ a͞ńd ͟pl̢a̴gu̡e̵ ýour̨ re͏a̸lm͟ ̨ńo̵ f̀ur̴the̵r.̢ Ţhi͘s ͟I promise̸ y͟où. Bùt͞ fir͢s͡t...theD̝r̛̳̩͖͚̤e͖̤̳̻a̙̟͚̝̙ͅd̰-̶͉͕͕̼̮̭S̜̠͔͉̯̘h̬̖̥̬̭̣͍i̹̮͙̜̝̲̤p̀ ̢K̻̼i̥̞̘̜͟n̬͙̯̘͈͍͠g҉s̭̳̼̣͕̠b̧̩̰̬̖͙͖̮a̶͎̫̫n̸̲e̳̟͚̮̖ͅ must ̶fa͝l̢l.̢ a̴t a͜ll͞ ͡c̢ost̡s̴.”
“Ti͂̿ͣ̈m̐͏è̀ an̶d S̄͆p̆̈ͬͩ̆aͬcͪͣ̆ͣͮͯ̆è…th̟̼e̠̹̤̼̖ ̨͕̠͉Ù̮̟̰n̳̱i̧̪͕͔̯ṿ̳e̻̠r̟͙̪se̸ ̰͞i̡̥t̼̟̟s̳̤̱ͅe̱͝l̮͈̰f...de̶pe̸n͜ds̵ ̸o͡n҉ ìt.”
???
Leng Ty’zfir stared groggily at the ceiling. He was not certain as to just how long he had been doing so, nor was he certain as to the nature of time itself. What was the ceiling? What was time? He was too sleepy to think of such things now. He could think of them later.
But as he lay there, staring up in the darkness, something nagged at his mind. A vague urgency - as if he had recently dreamed of a great emergency and was only now remembering, in the distant way that dreams were remembered, the problem.
But there was no problem. He was more-or-less comfortable under whatever it was on top of him. He was very sleepy.
So Ty fell asleep again, with his last thought before dreamlessness being an absent muse at why the ceiling looked rather like the floor, for no apparent reason he cared to pinpoint.
Fellerton Sands got unsteadily to his feet, arms flailing briefly about at either side as he once more became acquainted with the concept of gravity and balance. Having initially failed twice in this endeavor, the third time was as of yet looking better. Finally, he realized, he was standing up straight. This was a difficult realization, given the oppressive darkness that surrounded him from all sides, save for the insignificant speck of light somewhere above and to his left that had first aroused him from his slumber.
But yes, he decided - he was definitely standing now. The next step was to further get his bearings and better assess the situation. He was also very hungry, and would have done almost anything for a decent sandwich - but for some indefinable reason, he was aware that this was indeed not the time to be having a sandwich of any quality, let alone a decent one.
Coughing up something small and wet that made a vulgar sound as it hit the wall, Sands began to work his way carefully around the pitch-black space, feeling for things that might give him some semblance of direction as he made his way toward the pinprick of light. There were lots of metal things, many of them smooth and cool but with a disconcerting number of them jagged and broken. This place must have been some kind of death-trap, he mused in silence.
As it happened, the pinprick of light was just that. A pinprick of light. He put his finger over it, and it went out. He removed his finger, and there it was again. He felt around the wall to no avail. It was just a wall. A wall with a tiny hole in it, from beyond which shone some kind of light.
Disheartened but persistent, Sands began once more feeling his way meticulously around the blackness of the room. Surely there had to be a way out. As it happened, there was. It felt like a door, and it even opened like a door - though not any kind of modern door that he knew of. There was a little control pad beside it, but he had pressed the buttons blindly and nothing had happened. There was a little manual handle too however, he pulled - then yanked - and it slid open with limited resistance.
Beyond it was another dark room - but less dark. He could see one wall not far from where he stood in the doorway. He carefully made his way into the second room, and was numbly pleased to see more light - an easy, white light that spilled in from a jagged hole blown rashly through the wall at the far end of what appeared to be a short corridor. He made his way toward it. Something moved in the shadows - one of his friends, he recognized, perhaps more?
Ty awoke again some indeterminate time later with a start. He was suddenly very aware of the sense of urgency that had been lingering beneath the peaceful facade of deep unconsciousness. Something terrible was happening!
Or, rather, something terrible had happened.
It came to him in sickening waves. Not a coherent narrative - but flashes, moments, feelings, clustered and disorganized and nonsensical and upsetting.
Alarms screaming. The ship trembling. Dallen sprinting down the hallway. Chaos. Fire. Claxons wailing. Desperate panic. Chaos. The sinking dread of the realization of coming death. The last-ditch attempts on all parts - the utter confusion as to how this had all happened in the first place. The feeling of plummeting infinitely down, down, down - ever faster. Nobody knew where anyone else was. The smoke and fire had scattered them. They were probably all dead now.
But…
He wasn’t dead, was he?
His abdomen hurt, and he assumed that he would not feel the pressure and pain if he were dead - so Ty concluded that he was not, in fact, dead. That was promising. It meant maybe his other friends had survived. Maybe.
Though given the flashes of memory that had come stabbing back at his mind, it did not seem excessively likely.
Ty felt around his abdomen, identifying some heavy, metallic object pressing down on him. Deep breaths, then he heaved once - twice - and pushed it away. A great weight had been lifted from him and the sensation of it was intoxicating - but there was no time to appreciate it now. He got to his feet. Clung to something to stay that way. Looked around the dimly lit space that he now identified as one of the rooms in the Koolest Boat U Know. He might have been able to determine which room exactly, but that information seemed irrelevant - and besides, it was upside down now.
Someone had been there with him in the last seconds. Someone else was in the room with him. He tried to speak, but only made a small sound with his throat. He coughed, then tried again. Hoarsely he uttered ”Hey. Hey anyone there? You okay?” Then, without waiting for a response, he added ”Gotta’ get out of here. The others.”
Was there movement somewhere else in the darkness? Possibly. Maybe someone had even responded - but he was too dazed to talk any more than he absolutely needed to. He did what he could to help them to stand.
The deep red glow of one remaining emergency light was his guide, leading him to the upside-down door that he had to yank open via the emergency manual handle. What greeted him was immediate, overpowering light, and very invasive corn.
Dallen Armston cursed loudly, and in several dialects as she rhythmically kicked at the escape hatch with one booted foot. It seemed cruel that every other part of the Koolest Boat U Know - now officially the Koolest Boat U Knew - should have so easily fallen to bits...yet the escape hatch held so firm that it was actually impeding its intended purpose.
She hated the stupid tug. Despised it. As to whether or not the wreck was her fault was questionable. The circumstances had worked severely against her, and she was a novice pilot at that. But she had tried! She had done everything in her power to keep the hunk of scrap from dive-bombing into that planet when the stupid autopilot was too incompetent to avoid an obstacle that was...literally the size of a planet.
How could she have known the autopilot would be so bad? Nobody in their right mind would distrust an autopilot to that extent, even a primitive one!
But it was so. The ship had been on a crash-course before they even knew it - it was already too late by the time the alarms had warned them of their coming inevitable doom.
Not so inevitable, at least. That was something. She was alive. She wasn’t alone, at least. That was good. And she could only hope that, once she got the damned escape hatch open, she would find the rest of the Koolest Boat U Knew very close by, with her friends alive and well outside…
Even if whoever she had found herself stuck with some minutes before was capable of helping them escape, she wasn’t about to let them. As far as Dal was concerned, this was her problem to solve - and besides that, she was too angry to not kick the everloving heck out of something. Might as well be the hatch.
At last, with one final CLANG!, the escape hatch flung violently from its crippled hinges. Light poured in, and just below the ringing of the ears there was the faint sound of a bunch of people shouting briefly, followed by silence. ”Got it!” She called back, unnecessarily.
Without waiting for her present companion(s) the ebon-skinned woman with her electric blue shock of cropped hair scrambled over the threshold into the light - and was met with something she had not at all expected.
First there was the sound, which she hard before her eyes had adjusted to the glowing daylight. It was, quite audibly, the sound of a great number of people gasping, yelping, and even shouting what sounded like religious exclamations. Then, standing atop the hefty hunk of scrapped space-yacht and cupping a hand over her eyes to squint down the source of the sound, she saw them.
People.
A small mob of them. Many were clearly humans or something closely resembling them, but among them stood a number of bulky, green-skinned folk with protruding lower fangs and harsh, inelegant features. They were all in various stages of filthy, all dressed in what ranged from rags to threadbare tunics, many with ugly brown burlap sacks over their heads as makeshift hats. They were all armed with household items and farming tools, some with rusty old knives and one with a battered shortsword clutched in a filthy, wavering fist.
Blinking, Dal glanced around to take in her surroundings, She had never been in a place like this before, but vaguely recalled th possibly applicable term ’peasant village from her mind.
Squat, wooden buildings with rough-hewn frames and thatched straw roofs spread out in all directions. Black smoke arose from the occasional chimney. Dirt pathways lined with crude horse-drawn carriages hauling hay or mouldy produce. A stone well. In one direction, past the sea of barbaric structures was a high stone wall, beyond which seemed to sit some kind of fortress or castle..
The only real change in the scenery was the expansive crater that had been gauged out of the earth where the battered hunk of Koolest Boat had come plummeting. It seemed that there had once been a large, stone structure exactly under where they had landed, and bits of colored glass could be seen glinting here and there in the sunlight.
The peasants - she could only think of them as peasants - stood in clumps around the desolate crater, all looking up with apprehension and in some cases, loathing.
Dal blinked again, still trying to process it all. After a long moment of admittedly awkward silence, she raised one hand in an almost sheepish wave. The peasants closest to the foot of the wreck shrunk back.
”Uh…hi?” She said uncertainty, but was interrupted by a squawk from somewhere in the crowd, followed by a furious voice torn by hysteria ”WITCH! The black witch has defiled the Chapel of Motuk!” Another voice, deeper but no less disturbed, shouted almost simultaneously ”Burn the vile demon I say! ‘Lest her festering eggspawn come hatching!” This was followed by an uproarious cheer, and lots of threatening shaking of the brandished rolling pins, pitchforks and hatchets.
Frowning, Dal said directing her voice back down the hatch ”We...I think we got a problem.”
Sands’ relief when he learned that he as not alone was overwhelming, but he spent little time celebrating it. He and whoever he had found in the second room of the wreck of the Koolest Boat had proceeded with haste to scour the remainder of their immediate surroundings for other survivors. They found nobody dead, at least - which was promising.
What was not so promising was what they discovered upon escaping the hunk of wreck, The ship was less intact than they had hoped - and the other pieces were nowhere to be found. Instead, they found themselves in some kind of swampy place, where brown water trickled into the crater made by their explosive landing and thin, chitinous trees drooped lazily toward them. It was cool, and they could vaguely smell the scent of salt that hinted at the relative nearness of a shoreline to the north. Strange birds chirped timidly from within the shade, but no apparent danger made itself as of yet clear.
Sands sighed deeply, leaning heavily on the charred and blackened hull of their part of the wreck, before realizing that it was still hot from the crash and throwing himself off again before he could really be burned.
”Well...What now?” He asked, almost absently.
Great, tall stalks of classic green corn flopped inward atop Ty, forcing him stumbling onto his back. Groaning, he worked his way back into a standing position and proceeded the arduous task of clawing through the dense greenery until at last mounting a small clump of earth that had apparently reared up against the door when the hunk of Koolest had rolled to a stop.
Then he tumbled down the earthy bluff on the other side and lay on his back amidst a small, natural clearing in the corn. Above him, the sky was blue and marked with pleasant streaks of greenish clouds.
Now, he figured, would be a good time to actually communicate with whoever else had awoken with him in the aftermath. He assumed they would be following him presently.
The only member of the Koolest Boat’s crew to wake up in relative peace and comfort was, ironically, the last one who would have wanted it.
The sound of the crackling fire would have been alarming, except that it was accompanied by the rustic scent of burning Lukine cedar-pine wood. Beyond that, there was the gentle, nearly inaudible sound of easy wind through lush foliage. Somewhere, a bird chirped contentedly.
Given that his most recent memory before the present was the utter chaos and dread of coming doom as the crew did everything in their power to keep the ship flying, the current environment was so serene it might have been disturbing.
He was lying on his back. The floor was hard, well-worn wood. Directly beneath him was some kind of woven blanket or mat. Above him could be seen a high ceiling of concentric branches interwoven with a thatched roof, packed so tight that not a glimpse of daylight made it through. A thin bellow of smoke rose up to the ceiling, but there was no hole for it to escape from. Instead it seemed to be absorbed by the dry branches, dissipating into them without resistance.
It was a single room, lit warmly both by the crackling fire in the stone-rimmed central firepit and by unobtrusive little stones that glowed in a surprisingly unthreatening red-orange. They were lashed to the wall with leather thongs. There were lots of other things hanging on the walls besides those - woven blankets, animal skins, drying herbs and jerkies. Hunter-trapper equipment. Some primitive tools. A simple longbow and quiver. A hand-drawn map on yellowed parchment. There was a low table and several small storage chests. Across from him, on the other side of the fire, two or three soft looking animal skins were laid out to form what was clearly a bed. A more comfortable one than he was on, at that.
There were no windows, and there appeared at first to be no door - but upon closer inspection, a panel of lighter wood among the packed walls would prove to serve that purpose, able to be slid aside to reveal an unexpected view, if he chose to do so. Daylight would stream in, filtered through the verdant foliage beyond the mouth of the shallow cave the dwelling was nestled in. The floor of the cavern extended some six feet and promptly dropped, indicating that the cave was inside a cliff face or mountainside. It was difficult to judge just how long of a drop it would be to the ground, but it seemed very likely that even someone as tough as Jet Jackson wouldn’t get away without several shattered bones and a whole lot of serious internal bleeding.
A cool breeze rustled the branches that hung over, largely obscuring the mouth of the cave from outside view. Birds chirped. Above, between the cavern ceiling and the treetops, there was a pale blue sky with pale green clouds.
True, Jet Jackson was the only one out of his friends who had woken up in relative peace and comfort. But he was also the only one to have woken up alone.
The Ark of Chyll
Nope. No monologue or smooth jazz this time either. Call me lazy but - okay, fine. “Something something idiots travel in packs something something seen it before et cetera.”
The fat cyborg lunged, the bulky arm’s hydraulics whirring as his fist drove forth with reckless, but brutal strength. Unfortunately for him, there was no snake-face where had sworn there was snake-face hardly a second ago. Where had the snake-face gone?
Oh, behind him.
The fool would have stumbled and tripped on his own, even without the help of the reptoid. He landed on the floor with a heavy T H U D that shook drinks in glasses like a stomping dinosaur. The old detective gave another antagonizing (Or supportive, depending on how you thought of it,) whistle. It was only then that he noticed something important that most of the others were - with good reason - too distracted to notice. That was his forté, of course. His eyes shifted to the door, he frowned thoughtfully, but otherwise made no move.
Meanwhile, the mighty reptoid was descending upon the provocateur with a vicious curb-stomp - only to find that his foot had come down on what could only be another mechanical limb. This one was obviously more subtle, but the lack of reaction on the victim’s part and the sheer density of the target made it obvious. Likely he had done some damage, but not as much as he had planned. It had been the left leg, of course.
Clégg wsa just opening his mouth to inform his party of the new development he was noticing when the new development interrupted him with an obnoxious howling curse.
”The HAAAAIL you doin’a Curbz y’stupid frog!” Squawked a skinny, grey-faced old man who was standing in the doorway. He was dressed in similar utility clothing and had on his nappy head a high-top cap with the word S W Y F T printed on it in obnoxious yellow lettering. Then he whirled around, addressing someone who was still outside. ”Ayo’ Buster! Chango! Getcho’ bee-hinds in har! We’s gone havin’ ourselves some frog legs!”
As the fat cyborg struggled to stand, knocking tables and chairs around in the tragically clumsy process, the skinny man at the door stepped aside and the shadow of the pale daylight beyond was momentarily obscured. In came two more men, similarly dressed with identical SWYFT caps on their heads. One was squat but burly, the other reasonably bulky with height and muscle on his side. None of them looked very bright.
If the reptoid had been distracted by these newcomers, “Curbz” would take the opportunity to get back up and go for a cheap shot in the process, another swing of the hydraulic fist aimed blindly at wherever he thought his opponent was at the moment.
As the three men began walking over with balled fists and cracking knuckles, Detective Clégg nudged Talis with an elbow without looking, almost as if to say ’Go get ‘em, tiger.’
Not that she needed encouragement, he was sure.
Maltese Station
Though Ketin Clarke was not oblivious to the wink - he was, of course, inside the strange mind of this newcomer as much as anyone’s’ - he was much too busy giggling madly over the very concept of Nirix doing any of the things being suggested to her. Giggling too at the incredible gall this guy had to be talking to her that way in the first place.
But when he heard the magic words ’Drinks are free’ both ears perked and immediately his full attention had been acquired. Ears perked straight up. Without looking, he gave a dismissive gesture in Arnaldo’s general direction, drawling ”Ah, c’mon Arnie. It’s not like any of us were goin’ anywhere important anyhow, right?” Anyone looking too much into it might have wondered if, and how he knew where his new friend had been going. It was just another thing that he intrinsically knew - but shouldn’t. ”I mean we’ll get back in time alright but so what if we don’t?”
He was decided. Just like with everything else he did, his mind was made up. He was going. They were going with him. He wasn’t going to force them any more than just grabbing Nirix’s hand as he started toward the place - but they were going with him. They always did.
Mentioning ’silver bracelets’ did get a spark of something like lucidity out of him, just for a moment. That sounded an awful lot like ’handcuffs’ - and while he wasn’t adverse to their strategic use in certain intimate situations, being put into them outside of the bedroom/living room/elevator/park bench/opium den/rooftop/car/train/starship/cargo crate/ancient ruin/milkbar/grassy knoll usually did not go his way.
He was relieved when he saw only one, and secretly looked into it with his mind in order to snoop out any danger.
”Wow. Teleporter, huh? Snazzy.” He commented, strolling into the thing without a second thought.
What followed was an overwhelming display of chaotic decadence. Lights, sounds, smells, sights - so many sights! It seemed insane that he had gone all this time without ever knowing about this place.
”Great Galaxy!” He exclaimed, using that weird expression that nobody in their right mind used ever. ”This place is great!” His sensitive ears were adept at handling loud noises if they were consistent, background noises - so he was able to adjust quickly.
He was so distracted by it all that he was startled for an instant when an arm wrapped around his shoulders - but it didn’t show. He just beamed a cheeky smile alternately between his two friends. ”Oh no, no trouble at all totally!” He said, and it was impossible to tell if he was joking or actually trying to convince them.
If Nirix had voiced concerns or protests, he had listened patiently then waved them away.
He didn’t feel bad about leaving her behind - after all, just because they were great friends didn’t mean they always had to be stuck to each other.
”I’ll catch up with ya’ soon~!” He called back to them, before disappearing into the throngs with his escort. Before he had even reached the bar, the Fox had done a little hop and plucked a drink off a tray that someone was carrying to its actual intended recipient, without stopping.
And, of course, the two of them were making all sorts of eyes at each other as they arrived at the bar, Kete commencing his latest binge with all the style and excess he could manage.
Ark of Chyll
The muscles of Shashi's snout wrinkled in a snarl as the bottom of his foot slammed against metal. The slightest metallic creak from beneath his weight was satisfying but paled before the jolt of dull pain which shot up his leg. Perhaps, the reptoid thought, he should have anticipated as much. The man did seem eager to fight, after all. He endured the pain enough to formulate a second plan, reaching for the fat man's back when the new arrivals announced themselves.
Shashi wasn't sure what frog legs tasted like the way humans prepared them but he had, in fact, eaten frogs. It sounded delicious and his food hadn't arrived yet, so he couldn't help but look over the yelling man twice in search of the frog legs he mentioned. In the brawler's periphery flashed movement, prompting him to move but he was just a bit too slow. A blow that would have landed in the reptilian's solar plexus instead caught the bicep of his arm.
The reptoid uttered a sound consisting of both a deep, pained rumble and a hiss as the force of the hydraulic fist spread through his limb. His momentum was just right for an improvised counterattack, however; he let himself spin, favoring his healthier leg while he swept the other around to try and catch his aggressor in the back of the head. And if he found his mark he'd pull downward, hoping to push the off-balance combatant to the floor.
_
...
Thunder echoed along the coast.
It caught the half-awake Amaury's attention for two reasons; one of which was that there was no rain outside. Without moving he looked out a window to his right, seeing only scattered, small clouds moving slowly inland. The second was the quality of the noise; where thunder usually concluded swiftly, this noise continued for at least twenty seconds, by his counting. Multiple strikes, then? But then, how? Why?
The quiet hiss of skin against skin drew him from his wondering. A voice much gentler than his vocalized as she too started to wake. A thin hand drew upward against his torso, its fingers curling at the nape of his neck. He chuckled. "Good morning."
She groaned. "...No."
The mason turned toward her, tugging the covers over her shoulders. "No?" He teased. "No breakfast, either...? I'm sure its ready by now." Her hand lifted again, this time to press lazily against his face. He grinned and let it be, drawing circles against her back with his finger. It took her a moment to respond, drifting somewhere between awareness and slumber, but she inevitably did. "...Breakfast." She slurred, finally opening her eyes and pulling her hand away. "Ok, but you have to carry me." And she joined him in smiling, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
"No way," He replied mirthfully. "You're too fat." The remark drew a surprised snort from his companion. "You really just-- wow. Such a charmer!" She reached again and pinched his nose. He returned the gesture and the two wrestled for a while, laughing as the game became sillier. It concluded when both of the mason's wrists were held by her hands. "You win." He lamented. Seconds after, she released him and she finally inquired, "So... do you know what that noise was?"
Amaury's gaze drifted to the window again. "...No. But if I were to guess I'd say it was black magic."
She smirked and furrowed her brow at him. "Really? That's your best guess?" He looked back at her and scoffed, "Well, if you have a better idea then let's hear it!" The woman scratched her chin as she thought before concluding, "A group of people, most likely men--" She raised her eyebrows briefly while looking at him, "--Went outside, took the blacksmith's work and started smashing it all together in the town square. And then they'll say it was black magic to scare the children."
It was the mason's turn to snort. "You're probably right," He said sarcastically, "Don't know what we'd do in this world without beautiful minds like yours, dear."
She looked up at him then, her smile gone. In its place was a contemplative expression, her eyes fixed on his. "I bet you say that to all the women you buy time from." He shook his head and replied matter-of-factly, "No, just the smart ones." They laughed again and she pinched his arm, causing him to wince. "You could've taken that compliment a lot further, jester!"
Amaury sighed and laid back, beginning, "That's a job I leave to the knights--" When a harsh knock came from the door, accompanied by the gruff voice of a man. "Mason! Come out! We've got to talk."
The mason groaned and ruffled the woman's hair before rising from the bed and collecting his clothing from the floor and sheets. The man outside knocked again. "Amaury!" He called back whilst pulling on his pants. "Aye, I'm here, be out in a second!" But that answer didn't seem to be enough, for the man departed shortly and returned, his footfalls heavy. The half-clothed man rolled his eyes as he heard the rattling of keys on the other side of the door.
He'd just collected his hat and belt from their perch on the headboared when the door opened and a much larger fellow stepped in, glowering at him. "We've got to talk." He repeated. Amaury turned toward him whilst wrapping his belt around his now-clothed waist and asked, "What?"
"Its about your payment." The larger man continued. "You owe us."
"Owe you?" He responded in genuine bafflement. "I paid everything up front, if you recall. If I wanted to cheat you I'd have bought Margaret's time instead." The woman in bed scoffed and tossed a pillow carelessly in his direction; it bounced against his shoulder and fell to the ground. The larger man grunted and produced a coin, biting it before holding it out to him. Amaury leaned in and squinted before gasping and reaching into a bag on his belt. He took out a coin of his own and did much the same, looking on in shock and horror to find just what the other man spoke of; they weren't genuine silver at all, instead consisting of copper painted over. The coating flecked away where he'd bitten it, showing the coin's true consistency. "That money-grubbing son of a--"
"You'd better have some real coin in there, Amaury, or it'll be you for sale!" The large one threatened. The mason detached his coinpurse from the belt and emptied its contents on the bed, searching through them hurriedly. His search turned out to be fruitless; he turned slowly toward the man and meekly asked, "...Put it on my tab?" The large man scowled.
A moment later, after a frenzied few seconds of collecting his faux-currency and fleeing from the other man, the mason found himself falling face first in the mud, just outside the brothel. His hat flew off sometime between crossing the front threshold and hitting the floor, drifting down onto the same puddle gently as he sputtered and spat out mud.
"Consider yourself lucky I don't call the guard on you, mason! Check your coin next time; and don't come back 'til you can pay double!" The front door slammed shut behind him. Amaury collected his hat from the floor and wiped some of the muck from his face, frowning. He looked up and saw a child on the same path, clearly on some morning errand, staring up at him with a blooming smile. The kid pointed and laughed at him. He looked down at his mud-caked doublet and cursed the day.
The muscles of Shashi's snout wrinkled in a snarl as the bottom of his foot slammed against metal. The slightest metallic creak from beneath his weight was satisfying but paled before the jolt of dull pain which shot up his leg. Perhaps, the reptoid thought, he should have anticipated as much. The man did seem eager to fight, after all. He endured the pain enough to formulate a second plan, reaching for the fat man's back when the new arrivals announced themselves.
Shashi wasn't sure what frog legs tasted like the way humans prepared them but he had, in fact, eaten frogs. It sounded delicious and his food hadn't arrived yet, so he couldn't help but look over the yelling man twice in search of the frog legs he mentioned. In the brawler's periphery flashed movement, prompting him to move but he was just a bit too slow. A blow that would have landed in the reptilian's solar plexus instead caught the bicep of his arm.
The reptoid uttered a sound consisting of both a deep, pained rumble and a hiss as the force of the hydraulic fist spread through his limb. His momentum was just right for an improvised counterattack, however; he let himself spin, favoring his healthier leg while he swept the other around to try and catch his aggressor in the back of the head. And if he found his mark he'd pull downward, hoping to push the off-balance combatant to the floor.
_
...
♪
Thunder echoed along the coast.
It caught the half-awake Amaury's attention for two reasons; one of which was that there was no rain outside. Without moving he looked out a window to his right, seeing only scattered, small clouds moving slowly inland. The second was the quality of the noise; where thunder usually concluded swiftly, this noise continued for at least twenty seconds, by his counting. Multiple strikes, then? But then, how? Why?
The quiet hiss of skin against skin drew him from his wondering. A voice much gentler than his vocalized as she too started to wake. A thin hand drew upward against his torso, its fingers curling at the nape of his neck. He chuckled. "Good morning."
She groaned. "...No."
The mason turned toward her, tugging the covers over her shoulders. "No?" He teased. "No breakfast, either...? I'm sure its ready by now." Her hand lifted again, this time to press lazily against his face. He grinned and let it be, drawing circles against her back with his finger. It took her a moment to respond, drifting somewhere between awareness and slumber, but she inevitably did. "...Breakfast." She slurred, finally opening her eyes and pulling her hand away. "Ok, but you have to carry me." And she joined him in smiling, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
"No way," He replied mirthfully. "You're too fat." The remark drew a surprised snort from his companion. "You really just-- wow. Such a charmer!" She reached again and pinched his nose. He returned the gesture and the two wrestled for a while, laughing as the game became sillier. It concluded when both of the mason's wrists were held by her hands. "You win." He lamented. Seconds after, she released him and she finally inquired, "So... do you know what that noise was?"
Amaury's gaze drifted to the window again. "...No. But if I were to guess I'd say it was black magic."
She smirked and furrowed her brow at him. "Really? That's your best guess?" He looked back at her and scoffed, "Well, if you have a better idea then let's hear it!" The woman scratched her chin as she thought before concluding, "A group of people, most likely men--" She raised her eyebrows briefly while looking at him, "--Went outside, took the blacksmith's work and started smashing it all together in the town square. And then they'll say it was black magic to scare the children."
It was the mason's turn to snort. "You're probably right," He said sarcastically, "Don't know what we'd do in this world without beautiful minds like yours, dear."
She looked up at him then, her smile gone. In its place was a contemplative expression, her eyes fixed on his. "I bet you say that to all the women you buy time from." He shook his head and replied matter-of-factly, "No, just the smart ones." They laughed again and she pinched his arm, causing him to wince. "You could've taken that compliment a lot further, jester!"
Amaury sighed and laid back, beginning, "That's a job I leave to the knights--" When a harsh knock came from the door, accompanied by the gruff voice of a man. "Mason! Come out! We've got to talk."
The mason groaned and ruffled the woman's hair before rising from the bed and collecting his clothing from the floor and sheets. The man outside knocked again. "Amaury!" He called back whilst pulling on his pants. "Aye, I'm here, be out in a second!" But that answer didn't seem to be enough, for the man departed shortly and returned, his footfalls heavy. The half-clothed man rolled his eyes as he heard the rattling of keys on the other side of the door.
He'd just collected his hat and belt from their perch on the headboared when the door opened and a much larger fellow stepped in, glowering at him. "We've got to talk." He repeated. Amaury turned toward him whilst wrapping his belt around his now-clothed waist and asked, "What?"
"Its about your payment." The larger man continued. "You owe us."
"Owe you?" He responded in genuine bafflement. "I paid everything up front, if you recall. If I wanted to cheat you I'd have bought Margaret's time instead." The woman in bed scoffed and tossed a pillow carelessly in his direction; it bounced against his shoulder and fell to the ground. The larger man grunted and produced a coin, biting it before holding it out to him. Amaury leaned in and squinted before gasping and reaching into a bag on his belt. He took out a coin of his own and did much the same, looking on in shock and horror to find just what the other man spoke of; they weren't genuine silver at all, instead consisting of copper painted over. The coating flecked away where he'd bitten it, showing the coin's true consistency. "That money-grubbing son of a--"
"You'd better have some real coin in there, Amaury, or it'll be you for sale!" The large one threatened. The mason detached his coinpurse from the belt and emptied its contents on the bed, searching through them hurriedly. His search turned out to be fruitless; he turned slowly toward the man and meekly asked, "...Put it on my tab?" The large man scowled.
A moment later, after a frenzied few seconds of collecting his faux-currency and fleeing from the other man, the mason found himself falling face first in the mud, just outside the brothel. His hat flew off sometime between crossing the front threshold and hitting the floor, drifting down onto the same puddle gently as he sputtered and spat out mud.
"Consider yourself lucky I don't call the guard on you, mason! Check your coin next time; and don't come back 'til you can pay double!" The front door slammed shut behind him. Amaury collected his hat from the floor and wiped some of the muck from his face, frowning. He looked up and saw a child on the same path, clearly on some morning errand, staring up at him with a blooming smile. The kid pointed and laughed at him. He looked down at his mud-caked doublet and cursed the day.
???
Kilwen soon woke up on the cold metal floor of the crashed Koolest boat. He felt dizzy as he slowly woke up trying to get his barrings on things. However the room he was in so dark and everything happened so fast, he was talking to the others and then bam! Darkness! As Kilwen's became adjusted to the darkness and his head stop hurting, he placed his hand on his hip to feel if he still had that advance katana he took from Kampfer while he was with Q. Feeling that he still had it made him smile in relief as he looked around. Its clear the ship or at least the part he was in, was under emergency shutdown protocol so doors out where locked and he had no idea to unlock them. As he looks around he takes in a deep breath as he spoke some ancient words using his throat to give these words power"LAAS...YAH...NIR!" even though it was loud, but it was only loud to him as those words came out as a whisper. He was soon able to see anything that wasn't dead as red wisps only visible to his eyes. It was definitely Kilwen's version of a motion tracker. He saw majority of the red wisps above him letting him know that he was at the lowest level and looking around he realized he was in the cargo bay. He would do go bottom and go up, but he had a feeling the door is actually blocked by ship debris.
So he went one of the cargo doors and notice he can't open those up. He smiles as he pulls out his sword activating its plasma side of it and shoved it into cargo bay door and began to slowly cut away a piece of the metal so he could get out. He cut a small hole so he could come out and once done, he notices he was in a crater as he looks up at the sky seeing it was daytime which somewhat blinded him. As eyes adjusted he notices the large crowd forward end of the ship. Kilwen hugs the ship as he crawls over to see what is happening. He recognizes the crowd as a bunch of angry peasants and sees Dallen! It was clear that the peasants were mad at her for some reason, hinting at the sit of pitch-forks and other crude weapons.
He had an idea, but it can easily backfire though, but since they were peasants he was confident his Voice will work on them. However he needed Dallen's attention though to warn her in what he was gonna do. He looks down and picks up a small rock and throws it at her arm to catch her attention. As soon as she looks he would raise his hands up to his ears to signal her to cover her ears. If she took the signal or not, there would be no time since the rock tossed at her would have probably incited the peasants to react aggressively and so in a split moment he took a deep breath and shouted with all his might:
"FAAS! RUU! MAAR!"
His words booming in the air as if the gods spoke to incite fear upon the weak willed to cause them to flee in terror. He only hoped that the peasants would flee and the others inside the ship wouldn't hear it and be incited to flee for there lives some how. The effect itself shouldn't last very long, but should be enough to give the peasants to think twice before coming back to the ship. Assuming the peasants fled and that Dallen covered her ears just in time, he would rush over and put his hand on her back and saying "Dallen! Are you alright?! What happened? Most of your friends are inside but I think we are missing a few though" as he looks at the escape hatch.
Kilwen soon woke up on the cold metal floor of the crashed Koolest boat. He felt dizzy as he slowly woke up trying to get his barrings on things. However the room he was in so dark and everything happened so fast, he was talking to the others and then bam! Darkness! As Kilwen's became adjusted to the darkness and his head stop hurting, he placed his hand on his hip to feel if he still had that advance katana he took from Kampfer while he was with Q. Feeling that he still had it made him smile in relief as he looked around. Its clear the ship or at least the part he was in, was under emergency shutdown protocol so doors out where locked and he had no idea to unlock them. As he looks around he takes in a deep breath as he spoke some ancient words using his throat to give these words power"LAAS...YAH...NIR!" even though it was loud, but it was only loud to him as those words came out as a whisper. He was soon able to see anything that wasn't dead as red wisps only visible to his eyes. It was definitely Kilwen's version of a motion tracker. He saw majority of the red wisps above him letting him know that he was at the lowest level and looking around he realized he was in the cargo bay. He would do go bottom and go up, but he had a feeling the door is actually blocked by ship debris.
So he went one of the cargo doors and notice he can't open those up. He smiles as he pulls out his sword activating its plasma side of it and shoved it into cargo bay door and began to slowly cut away a piece of the metal so he could get out. He cut a small hole so he could come out and once done, he notices he was in a crater as he looks up at the sky seeing it was daytime which somewhat blinded him. As eyes adjusted he notices the large crowd forward end of the ship. Kilwen hugs the ship as he crawls over to see what is happening. He recognizes the crowd as a bunch of angry peasants and sees Dallen! It was clear that the peasants were mad at her for some reason, hinting at the sit of pitch-forks and other crude weapons.
He had an idea, but it can easily backfire though, but since they were peasants he was confident his Voice will work on them. However he needed Dallen's attention though to warn her in what he was gonna do. He looks down and picks up a small rock and throws it at her arm to catch her attention. As soon as she looks he would raise his hands up to his ears to signal her to cover her ears. If she took the signal or not, there would be no time since the rock tossed at her would have probably incited the peasants to react aggressively and so in a split moment he took a deep breath and shouted with all his might:
"FAAS! RUU! MAAR!"
His words booming in the air as if the gods spoke to incite fear upon the weak willed to cause them to flee in terror. He only hoped that the peasants would flee and the others inside the ship wouldn't hear it and be incited to flee for there lives some how. The effect itself shouldn't last very long, but should be enough to give the peasants to think twice before coming back to the ship. Assuming the peasants fled and that Dallen covered her ears just in time, he would rush over and put his hand on her back and saying "Dallen! Are you alright?! What happened? Most of your friends are inside but I think we are missing a few though" as he looks at the escape hatch.
Kremlin Mall
With her little companions leaving her behind for the Koolest, Erica was in no rush to leave the station as the battle for it raged on outside. With the support of Catherine's battleship, the station was able to successfully beat back Lord Ova's forces and convince the invasion fleet it wasn't worth it. Catherine's ship didn't bother contacting the station as it jumped out just as Erica's little void servant jumped into the stations immediate area. As for Erica herself, she remained within the control room of the station since she found a startling discovery that her little servant should be aware of. He grinded her teeth seeing her Dendrils invade and infest the station, infecting and killing the survivors within the station. She didn't want this, this would cause the dendrils to be seen more by the other powers and she knows once the station is fully infected, her little metal creatures will plow this station into the planet below and cause it to begin the infecting process.
She couldn't order them...not only was it too late, but it would cause much more religious problems later down the line that Erica didn't want to deal with at the moment. As her blue phantom appeared before her, she looked at him with a stern look as she crossed her arms and let him speak what he had to say. What he was saying was...actually important and not some randomness becuase of his condition. "Gaint snake in the void will cause problems...but thats a problem we can deal with later on since we have more pressing matters" she comments as she looks at one of the monitors within the central computer. "He wants to destory that shitty little artillery cruiser? Why?" she asks herself as she glances at him. Taking a moment to think, she looks at him and says "Before I give you my answer I need you to look at this" as she points to the monitor that as a picture of a woman scanty clad, only being covered by a silk ribbon that barely covers talking to staff at some other station giving her some jumpsuit to put on. She had long hair and very femme fatale face and her skin is tan to some degree.
As she points to the woman she looks at her phantom and asks "You know who that is? Its someone who's suppose to be dead for a long time and yet she walks alive. She has the ability to put you back into a much smaller and stronger box than the one I kept you in. Her name is Catherine Gunwick, a very old dimensional lord, do not underestimate her nor get into contact with her. She will put you down in a heartbeat" as she gave him a cold glare. "To answer your request, if you so deem it important for that the artillery cruiser to be destroyed than by all means destroy it, but remember the real prize is the Stella" she explains as she looks back at the monitor. "Stay away from Catherine, whatever you do or get her involved in this" she warns him as she dismisses him, if he was done or doesn't have any questions as she continues to figure out why Catherine is now around, at this time.
With her little companions leaving her behind for the Koolest, Erica was in no rush to leave the station as the battle for it raged on outside. With the support of Catherine's battleship, the station was able to successfully beat back Lord Ova's forces and convince the invasion fleet it wasn't worth it. Catherine's ship didn't bother contacting the station as it jumped out just as Erica's little void servant jumped into the stations immediate area. As for Erica herself, she remained within the control room of the station since she found a startling discovery that her little servant should be aware of. He grinded her teeth seeing her Dendrils invade and infest the station, infecting and killing the survivors within the station. She didn't want this, this would cause the dendrils to be seen more by the other powers and she knows once the station is fully infected, her little metal creatures will plow this station into the planet below and cause it to begin the infecting process.
She couldn't order them...not only was it too late, but it would cause much more religious problems later down the line that Erica didn't want to deal with at the moment. As her blue phantom appeared before her, she looked at him with a stern look as she crossed her arms and let him speak what he had to say. What he was saying was...actually important and not some randomness becuase of his condition. "Gaint snake in the void will cause problems...but thats a problem we can deal with later on since we have more pressing matters" she comments as she looks at one of the monitors within the central computer. "He wants to destory that shitty little artillery cruiser? Why?" she asks herself as she glances at him. Taking a moment to think, she looks at him and says "Before I give you my answer I need you to look at this" as she points to the monitor that as a picture of a woman scanty clad, only being covered by a silk ribbon that barely covers talking to staff at some other station giving her some jumpsuit to put on. She had long hair and very femme fatale face and her skin is tan to some degree.
As she points to the woman she looks at her phantom and asks "You know who that is? Its someone who's suppose to be dead for a long time and yet she walks alive. She has the ability to put you back into a much smaller and stronger box than the one I kept you in. Her name is Catherine Gunwick, a very old dimensional lord, do not underestimate her nor get into contact with her. She will put you down in a heartbeat" as she gave him a cold glare. "To answer your request, if you so deem it important for that the artillery cruiser to be destroyed than by all means destroy it, but remember the real prize is the Stella" she explains as she looks back at the monitor. "Stay away from Catherine, whatever you do or get her involved in this" she warns him as she dismisses him, if he was done or doesn't have any questions as she continues to figure out why Catherine is now around, at this time.
"Friends? Food? Fire?" grumbled Jet as he rose to his feet. Wiping the dust off of himself, Jet surveyed the oddly, almost frighteningly, serene structure, in which he resided. Grabbing the mat in which he lay upon, he took a quick peek at the hides and skins on the wall, none of which were familiar. Flipping the mat upside down, Jet preceded to rip a large hole, just enough for his head, and wore it like a poncho. He walked around the hunting lodge before deducing that no one was in his presence, and that the abundance of hides and skins would make up for the damage mat...and the leather strap he started using as a belt...and all of the jerky he grabbed...and the map he traced from the original. Ditching all of his damaged gear next to the table, Jet grabbed the bow that was in the cabin. Notching and firing about five arrows into the wall a couple of feet away, Jet decided he overstayed his welcome and left the lodge in peace.
After walking outside the lodge, Jet took a long look around and one large whiff of the air surrounding him, to see if anything living was around him. After realizing that nothing living stood between him and the cliff, Jet peered over the edge. Jet straightened up and stood tall, preparing and flexing his muscles, and then released a gargantuan roar, which could be made out into the words, "KOOOOLLESSSSTTTT WWWHEERRRE ARRRRE YOOOOUUUU".
After walking outside the lodge, Jet took a long look around and one large whiff of the air surrounding him, to see if anything living was around him. After realizing that nothing living stood between him and the cliff, Jet peered over the edge. Jet straightened up and stood tall, preparing and flexing his muscles, and then released a gargantuan roar, which could be made out into the words, "KOOOOLLESSSSTTTT WWWHEERRRE ARRRRE YOOOOUUUU".
"Sonuvabitch, KID DON'T GO GETTING YOURSELF KILLED OR WORSE, GETTING ME KILLED" bellowed Arnie in an unnaturally grandfather-like voice. After grabbing his brow in a frustrated manner, he turned towards the man who had brought them there. "You touch a hair on that boy, and I'll make sure its my duty to personally see through with your death, mister....whats it again?" spoke Arnaldo in a low, commanding tone, his finger being pressed directly into the chest of Hayden."And whats up with these damn bracelets?" grumbled Arnaldo, swinging it around in the air.
"Anything this good, for free, has blood stained all over it."
"Anything this good, for free, has blood stained all over it."
Rin woke up again.
He coughed, dust swirling around him like smoke as he twisted himself to look to his side. Twisted steel and dying lights met his eyes as his sore body protested to the movements.
A crash. A... malfunction...?
Wincing, he gingerly sat up, blinking rapidly in the midst of the sudden sound of something falling- wait.
Footsteps.
He turned to the sound- and scrambled to his feet as he spotted Ty clinging to the wall, leaning in a way that disturbed him greatly. Ignoring the way his ankle almost buckled under his weight, he made himself known to the other man, clasping his free arm and looking Ty over for any pressing injuries. "Ty-"
”Gotta’ get out of here. The others.”
Rin immediately ducked under Ty's arm, wrapping it around his neck, pretending not to wince as he did his best to support his disoriented ally. Even if Ty was better off walking on his own, the work- and the pain- grounded Rin. It kept him from thinking about his team.
Then the hatch was opened, light shone down at them, and he barely missed being slapped in the face by a bunch of unnaturally tall corn stalks.
Rai, through their race's keen eyesight, was able to spot Sands first, and cautiously made their way towards him. They sensed Reqti following after them, a tall imposing presence even when he was making an effort to not exude a threatening aura.
When they'd realized the danger they were able to put up a weak, but sufficient aether barrier that saved some of them from being stabbed and gutted uncerimoniously by flying debris. Some, because they did not know who else was here. Not yet.
As soon as Sands had seen them- the both of them- they scoured the room and, thankfully, found no dead. They knew that Sands was probably not too glad that the Qetan was with them, but... they hoped that their presence would calm whatever grudge might spring up at this time of great misfortune.
"I see no one else," Reqti muttered, distress fighting to take over his tone.
"They must have landed somewhere else. Perhaps nearby," Rai said, touching him on the shoulder briefly. They knew who Reqti was really worried about.
They went outside- and discovered that yes, It was possible that there were other survivors; they were in only one part of the ship. The rest were probably scattered everywhere else on the planet.
”Well...What now?”
Rai looked at Sands. He seemed to be calm. But before they could reply, Reqti beat them to it.
"We find the others," he said. It was grave. Somber.
Dead or alive went unsaid.
Vaxur sat to the side, knees to his chest, eyes pointed at a blank point in the far wall and looking very much like a bored-as-hell kid who'd been put at time-out.
"C'mon man, lemme just shoot the door," he said for the umpeenth time, sighing as Dal only kicked the door even harder, snarl on her lips.
He sighed again.
Finally, with a final, violent THWACK, the hatch tore out of its hinges and hopefully landed somewhere uninhabited.
"... Got it!"
She climbed out before he could say "Let me go look, I have a gun," and was just about to scramble after her before the sound of gasps and yells made their way to his ears and registered into his head.
... Uh-oh.
"Uh... hi?"
Uh-oh.
"WITCH! The black witch has defiled the Chapel of Motuk!"
"Burn the vile demon I say! ‘Lest her festering eggspawn come hatching!”
Are you... freakin serious...
"We... I think we got a problem."
Vaxur looked up at her in a panic. "Yup."
A rock flew towards her arm, and-
Whatever would happen, he would do the same- whether it was to cover her ears, or yell in indignation.
Wyr was in a terrible situation.
She had a firm grip on the prisoner- Tahil, she believed- who was thankfully now behaving after she almost broke her jaw trying to bite Wyr's arm.
Key word being try. Alien chitin was damn hard to chew.
Anyway, following that Lord without being acknowledged was a new and welcome experience. The Qetan called it spying. Wyr called it observing.
(After all, she didn't really know this Lord Kilwen. She just wanted to know what he was like. Where his loyalties lay. What he was capable of. Besides, she wasn't harming him.)
They both followed, seemingly out of the Lord's sight and mind as he finally, finally was able to escape the ship.
They stopped for a monent as Wyr looked down at the other woman again, four eyes narrowed. "You will behave," she said.
This was no request. It was an order.
She was met with silence. She was satisfied, however, by Tahil's eye's flickering down, and her shoulders slumping slightly. It was as much an admittance of resignation as she could get.
She peeked over- and crouched down, covering her ears. Tahil, she saw, quickly did the same.
"FAAS! RUU! MAAR!"
The voice boomed like a great thunderclap, vibrating the air and causing the women's ears to ring despite their timely reactions. They would then let go, and strain to hear anything else after.
Rin may have narrowly avoided his demise via corn, but unfortunately his maneuver only saved himself.
Ty went down.
"Sorry!" he blurted out- and Ty was fine. He had stood before Rin could help him up, and he resolved to at least help him claw through the stupidly taller-than-him stalks that blocked their path.
Tumbling... was not a good experience. Presently it became hard to ignore the pain emanating from his now certainly sprained ankle. In the light, he was able to see that he had a long gash on his arm aside from the minor cuts and bruises. He wasn't sure if the gash was just a scratch, or as worse as it looked.
"Have any injuries I can't see?" Rin asked, moving so his arm wasn't as noticeable.
He coughed, dust swirling around him like smoke as he twisted himself to look to his side. Twisted steel and dying lights met his eyes as his sore body protested to the movements.
A crash. A... malfunction...?
Wincing, he gingerly sat up, blinking rapidly in the midst of the sudden sound of something falling- wait.
Footsteps.
He turned to the sound- and scrambled to his feet as he spotted Ty clinging to the wall, leaning in a way that disturbed him greatly. Ignoring the way his ankle almost buckled under his weight, he made himself known to the other man, clasping his free arm and looking Ty over for any pressing injuries. "Ty-"
”Gotta’ get out of here. The others.”
Rin immediately ducked under Ty's arm, wrapping it around his neck, pretending not to wince as he did his best to support his disoriented ally. Even if Ty was better off walking on his own, the work- and the pain- grounded Rin. It kept him from thinking about his team.
Then the hatch was opened, light shone down at them, and he barely missed being slapped in the face by a bunch of unnaturally tall corn stalks.
Rai, through their race's keen eyesight, was able to spot Sands first, and cautiously made their way towards him. They sensed Reqti following after them, a tall imposing presence even when he was making an effort to not exude a threatening aura.
When they'd realized the danger they were able to put up a weak, but sufficient aether barrier that saved some of them from being stabbed and gutted uncerimoniously by flying debris. Some, because they did not know who else was here. Not yet.
As soon as Sands had seen them- the both of them- they scoured the room and, thankfully, found no dead. They knew that Sands was probably not too glad that the Qetan was with them, but... they hoped that their presence would calm whatever grudge might spring up at this time of great misfortune.
"I see no one else," Reqti muttered, distress fighting to take over his tone.
"They must have landed somewhere else. Perhaps nearby," Rai said, touching him on the shoulder briefly. They knew who Reqti was really worried about.
They went outside- and discovered that yes, It was possible that there were other survivors; they were in only one part of the ship. The rest were probably scattered everywhere else on the planet.
”Well...What now?”
Rai looked at Sands. He seemed to be calm. But before they could reply, Reqti beat them to it.
"We find the others," he said. It was grave. Somber.
Dead or alive went unsaid.
Vaxur sat to the side, knees to his chest, eyes pointed at a blank point in the far wall and looking very much like a bored-as-hell kid who'd been put at time-out.
"C'mon man, lemme just shoot the door," he said for the umpeenth time, sighing as Dal only kicked the door even harder, snarl on her lips.
He sighed again.
Finally, with a final, violent THWACK, the hatch tore out of its hinges and hopefully landed somewhere uninhabited.
"... Got it!"
She climbed out before he could say "Let me go look, I have a gun," and was just about to scramble after her before the sound of gasps and yells made their way to his ears and registered into his head.
... Uh-oh.
"Uh... hi?"
Uh-oh.
"WITCH! The black witch has defiled the Chapel of Motuk!"
"Burn the vile demon I say! ‘Lest her festering eggspawn come hatching!”
Are you... freakin serious...
"We... I think we got a problem."
Vaxur looked up at her in a panic. "Yup."
A rock flew towards her arm, and-
Whatever would happen, he would do the same- whether it was to cover her ears, or yell in indignation.
Wyr was in a terrible situation.
She had a firm grip on the prisoner- Tahil, she believed- who was thankfully now behaving after she almost broke her jaw trying to bite Wyr's arm.
Key word being try. Alien chitin was damn hard to chew.
Anyway, following that Lord without being acknowledged was a new and welcome experience. The Qetan called it spying. Wyr called it observing.
(After all, she didn't really know this Lord Kilwen. She just wanted to know what he was like. Where his loyalties lay. What he was capable of. Besides, she wasn't harming him.)
They both followed, seemingly out of the Lord's sight and mind as he finally, finally was able to escape the ship.
They stopped for a monent as Wyr looked down at the other woman again, four eyes narrowed. "You will behave," she said.
This was no request. It was an order.
She was met with silence. She was satisfied, however, by Tahil's eye's flickering down, and her shoulders slumping slightly. It was as much an admittance of resignation as she could get.
She peeked over- and crouched down, covering her ears. Tahil, she saw, quickly did the same.
"FAAS! RUU! MAAR!"
The voice boomed like a great thunderclap, vibrating the air and causing the women's ears to ring despite their timely reactions. They would then let go, and strain to hear anything else after.
Rin may have narrowly avoided his demise via corn, but unfortunately his maneuver only saved himself.
Ty went down.
"Sorry!" he blurted out- and Ty was fine. He had stood before Rin could help him up, and he resolved to at least help him claw through the stupidly taller-than-him stalks that blocked their path.
Tumbling... was not a good experience. Presently it became hard to ignore the pain emanating from his now certainly sprained ankle. In the light, he was able to see that he had a long gash on his arm aside from the minor cuts and bruises. He wasn't sure if the gash was just a scratch, or as worse as it looked.
"Have any injuries I can't see?" Rin asked, moving so his arm wasn't as noticeable.
"Well my metamorphosing friend a heist...", Ringo took pause for a second, was he really going to throw this lost creature into the underworld, not even knowing what sort of trouble it could cause for such a life form, being put into slavery, anger-induced cage fights, or worse. Ringo began thinking it over, thinking over what he was about to say. He had estranged his human morality and emotions--replacing it with half-cocked bravado and comedic timing--for so long, it was almost alien to him, the mere thought of not using another being for gain was like drinking unfiltered water, it gave a slight weird off taste.
"A heist is something that should never be pulled off, ever, and losing my eye was one of the lesser pains of that day...Muta, I think this box will make me affluent...with problems. I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..." whimpered Ringo, his past sins and failures coursing through his mind like thick, soupy battery acid. He took a sharp turn on the hover-bike, towards a small fish-market. Parking the bike and motioning towards Mutacogi, Ringo walked into a small bar, littered with previous triad markings, at least the ones that claimed ownership of the establishment when they ruled this sector. He took a seat at the counter. "Can I get a light Tourani gin make it Wood Alcohol and a...what would you like Muta". Muta's been branded by his own stupidity, thought Ringo, realizing that the scuffle he engaged in must've garnered some consequences for not only himself, but for Muta too. Holding back the heist comment did absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things, it was just Ringo trying to somewhat feel better. This box was probably owned by some mob, out of the millions that rise and fall faster than star on Fiak 5 (it has a 3 hour day cycle).
"A heist is something that should never be pulled off, ever, and losing my eye was one of the lesser pains of that day...Muta, I think this box will make me affluent...with problems. I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..." whimpered Ringo, his past sins and failures coursing through his mind like thick, soupy battery acid. He took a sharp turn on the hover-bike, towards a small fish-market. Parking the bike and motioning towards Mutacogi, Ringo walked into a small bar, littered with previous triad markings, at least the ones that claimed ownership of the establishment when they ruled this sector. He took a seat at the counter. "Can I get a light Tourani gin make it Wood Alcohol and a...what would you like Muta". Muta's been branded by his own stupidity, thought Ringo, realizing that the scuffle he engaged in must've garnered some consequences for not only himself, but for Muta too. Holding back the heist comment did absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things, it was just Ringo trying to somewhat feel better. This box was probably owned by some mob, out of the millions that rise and fall faster than star on Fiak 5 (it has a 3 hour day cycle).
Nirix winced. Her eyes found the casino lights too bright and the sounds were almost too loud for her sensitive ears. Not to mention the smell; so heavy with cigarette and cigar smoke and sweat and the faintest smell of vomit. Involuntarily, she scrunched up her nose and let out a cough as some of the smoke invaded her lungs. This was a place of chaos and as they were led through the kaleidoscope of colors and sounds and different races of people, Nirix knew Ketin would feel at home here.
From his side, she could feel his energy radiate off of him and the Eoclu was ever cautious. A Chaotic place with an equal chaotic person did not seem like a good idea no matter how hard she thought about it. As much as she hated displaying her overprotective nature over him, the Assassin couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as a silent reminder to be cautious, to be ever vigilant.
Yet as soon as she had that thought, Ketin was off, led away by the increasingly shady-looking individual who seemed to flirt with him every second. It was annoying, seeing Ketin walk into the wolves den without a care in the world but then again, Nirix supposed it was just him. Ketin was just like that and she had to remind herself. If he did get into trouble, it would be just fine. Nirix and Arnaldo would save him and then she would rip the shady man apart. It was simple as that.
Carefully side-skirting the various Eoclu and others that tried to interact with her, the Assassin did what she did best and faded into the shadows in a nearby corner.
There, she could both hear and see Ketin from a far distance but also not be pestered by too many people. Nursing her own colorful drink, she watched the different people pass by her and when that grew to be discomforting and a bit boring, she sighed and dared to think of him.
His number had been burning a serious hole through her thoughts. He had smiled at her, nervous yet anxious for her to seek out his attention. It was endearing and in her tucked away corner, she wore a shy smile as she sipped her drink.
And then, she called him.
Nirix was surprised at how fast she reacted on her sudden impulse. Maybe it was the alcohol which made her bold or maybe she was just really bored. Regardless, she could not stop her fingers as she pressed the numbers to reach his communicator.
She held her breath as it rang in its efforts to reach him.
Nirix hoped he would never answer.
From his side, she could feel his energy radiate off of him and the Eoclu was ever cautious. A Chaotic place with an equal chaotic person did not seem like a good idea no matter how hard she thought about it. As much as she hated displaying her overprotective nature over him, the Assassin couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as a silent reminder to be cautious, to be ever vigilant.
Yet as soon as she had that thought, Ketin was off, led away by the increasingly shady-looking individual who seemed to flirt with him every second. It was annoying, seeing Ketin walk into the wolves den without a care in the world but then again, Nirix supposed it was just him. Ketin was just like that and she had to remind herself. If he did get into trouble, it would be just fine. Nirix and Arnaldo would save him and then she would rip the shady man apart. It was simple as that.
Carefully side-skirting the various Eoclu and others that tried to interact with her, the Assassin did what she did best and faded into the shadows in a nearby corner.
There, she could both hear and see Ketin from a far distance but also not be pestered by too many people. Nursing her own colorful drink, she watched the different people pass by her and when that grew to be discomforting and a bit boring, she sighed and dared to think of him.
His number had been burning a serious hole through her thoughts. He had smiled at her, nervous yet anxious for her to seek out his attention. It was endearing and in her tucked away corner, she wore a shy smile as she sipped her drink.
And then, she called him.
Nirix was surprised at how fast she reacted on her sudden impulse. Maybe it was the alcohol which made her bold or maybe she was just really bored. Regardless, she could not stop her fingers as she pressed the numbers to reach his communicator.
She held her breath as it rang in its efforts to reach him.
Nirix hoped he would never answer.
Illya, The Dragon Lady
Unknown Kampfer Vessel
What did Maria mean by that? What kind of people would have a reaction unlike Ilya's when meeting her? Probably scum between the sight of Lockheart's gun and their graves. But even so, they must've felt privileged, not otherwise. And the idea of fear was not something Ilya could get into her head. This also wasn't very clear for the draconian as well. Fear? Why would they feel afraid of the bounty hunter? Ilya wasn't afraid, how could some bad guy be?
— How so?? — More sulphur-smelling smoke puffed from her nostrils, hinting at a slight discontentment. — Hah, I get it! They're just jelly about your hair and armor. And guns, and your father. And your army, and your fleets, and your movies. — What? — ... And your arm cannon, and the finish of your armor...
The draconian went on with countless trivial things not exclusive to the bounty hunter, merely giggling after the remark of the now empty hipflask. However, such compliments strangely stopped at the mention of some King's bane.
— Um, Mary, I don't know of any ship of that name, heehee. Ain't you silly? Did you meant the Dragon's Bane? — ?!? — The Bulky Ordnance Frigate led by Captain Wonneds? The terrible Black Barbarian? — Completely nonsensical. The draconian was describing a very popular movie on the opposite end of the Galaxy, far from any reaches of the Kampferian Empire. Unbeknownst to Lock-On of a very satisfied client produced a movie to her homage: The Fine, The Evil and the Dragon. A blockbuster, per se.
However, like Maria didn't even asked about this so-called ship, Ilya's attention immediately switched to the large knife before her eyes. However, for a very brief moment, the Dragon Lady had straightened her toothy smirk, feeling a very proeminent instinct inside her to yank the knife from her idol's hand...
... But that was just Ilya's innocent curiosity! — O-OOH! OOH! Yeah, Mary! Do this knife thing! — She beamed, having her big golden orbs wide open in pure excitement.
...
For any inquisite Z-Bot 'Cleaner' crews out there, the remains of Ilya's white and red vessel was still there. Left untouched, free to be tampered with. Back at Moon J456.
Unknown Kampfer Vessel
What did Maria mean by that? What kind of people would have a reaction unlike Ilya's when meeting her? Probably scum between the sight of Lockheart's gun and their graves. But even so, they must've felt privileged, not otherwise. And the idea of fear was not something Ilya could get into her head. This also wasn't very clear for the draconian as well. Fear? Why would they feel afraid of the bounty hunter? Ilya wasn't afraid, how could some bad guy be?
— How so?? — More sulphur-smelling smoke puffed from her nostrils, hinting at a slight discontentment. — Hah, I get it! They're just jelly about your hair and armor. And guns, and your father. And your army, and your fleets, and your movies. — What? — ... And your arm cannon, and the finish of your armor...
The draconian went on with countless trivial things not exclusive to the bounty hunter, merely giggling after the remark of the now empty hipflask. However, such compliments strangely stopped at the mention of some King's bane.
— Um, Mary, I don't know of any ship of that name, heehee. Ain't you silly? Did you meant the Dragon's Bane? — ?!? — The Bulky Ordnance Frigate led by Captain Wonneds? The terrible Black Barbarian? — Completely nonsensical. The draconian was describing a very popular movie on the opposite end of the Galaxy, far from any reaches of the Kampferian Empire. Unbeknownst to Lock-On of a very satisfied client produced a movie to her homage: The Fine, The Evil and the Dragon. A blockbuster, per se.
However, like Maria didn't even asked about this so-called ship, Ilya's attention immediately switched to the large knife before her eyes. However, for a very brief moment, the Dragon Lady had straightened her toothy smirk, feeling a very proeminent instinct inside her to yank the knife from her idol's hand...
... But that was just Ilya's innocent curiosity! — O-OOH! OOH! Yeah, Mary! Do this knife thing! — She beamed, having her big golden orbs wide open in pure excitement.
...
For any inquisite Z-Bot 'Cleaner' crews out there, the remains of Ilya's white and red vessel was still there. Left untouched, free to be tampered with. Back at Moon J456.
The fight had begun so quickly it took Wick a minute to realize what had happened. The drunk with the tacky hat had insulted the bipedal lizard of his group, the lizard said he was gonna take the guy's hat, and suddenly punches were being thrown. From what bits of the dialogue he could hear, the drunk had deserved it, so Wick was hard-pressed to step in and split the two up. This would more likely than not end with all of these guys running with their tales between their legs, but if things looked like they would be worse than that he would take action. There was no need for anyone to die here, no matter if it was the lizard or the drunk.
First signs of weapons and I'll intervene, he concluded.
As he was walking back to the table, Wick felt something vibrate in his vest pocket. His communicator? Who could be calling him now?
Most likely something for a job. Well now I'm kind of busy with other things, so I can't really take a job.
Still, Wick saw no reason to just let it ring. He would just pick up, apologize to the person on the other side if it was a job, then hang up. Part of him really hoped that it would be Nirix. Wick wasn't sure whether or not she would actually put his number to use, and since he hadn't gotten hers the ball was in the eoclu's court. Wick sighed. There would be no telling just who it was until he answered it. Pulling out the communicator, he pressed talk and held it up to his ear.
"Hello, this is Wick Silverstone, who's calling?"
Alice's eyes had drifted up from her work to watch the fight. The lizard could definitely handle themselves, so she was less concerned with the outcome and more so intrigued by the drunkard's arm. It looked like a pretty complicated piece of machinery, so where did he get it? She would definitely have to take a look at it if the Shashi took it when they won.
First signs of weapons and I'll intervene, he concluded.
As he was walking back to the table, Wick felt something vibrate in his vest pocket. His communicator? Who could be calling him now?
Most likely something for a job. Well now I'm kind of busy with other things, so I can't really take a job.
Still, Wick saw no reason to just let it ring. He would just pick up, apologize to the person on the other side if it was a job, then hang up. Part of him really hoped that it would be Nirix. Wick wasn't sure whether or not she would actually put his number to use, and since he hadn't gotten hers the ball was in the eoclu's court. Wick sighed. There would be no telling just who it was until he answered it. Pulling out the communicator, he pressed talk and held it up to his ear.
"Hello, this is Wick Silverstone, who's calling?"
Alice's eyes had drifted up from her work to watch the fight. The lizard could definitely handle themselves, so she was less concerned with the outcome and more so intrigued by the drunkard's arm. It looked like a pretty complicated piece of machinery, so where did he get it? She would definitely have to take a look at it if the Shashi took it when they won.
Christofer wasn't going to object much to her words on them eating out. Nodding, he got the point of it. "I guess it makes sense. If it's a short trip and all. And I guess eating out is faster." Faster as in 'I've not eaten in quite a while and I'm hungry' way. Sure one could just eat some ingredients raw but.... He didn't quite fancy his chances with foreign food. Might be best to take his time with them, so eating out was fine for him. "No it's fine." Lifting his hand up and waving to dismiss the idea from before. "This is fine." At least he wasn't hard to convince.
He did like cooking, and as long as there was nothing too weird about the appliances it'd be just fine. But as of now, he'd nicely comply to the easier alternative. Supposedly at least, people here hadn't minded them that much so far, so...
It was evidently rather strange when the atmosphere changed. He had gotten used to Royanna's attempts at smiling and he took them as genuinely as he could, just that it was a little strange when she persisted with it, his own light smile given in return fading slowly into awkward territory as ears slowly folded behind his head. It was going... A little too far, awkward even. So, of course, Chaotic-Good as he was, the canid looked away to not get too embarrassed of the situation. No-one probably paid that much attention to them, but he still thought that seeing them like that was going to be a little..... Yeah.
So he took his chance and looked away, only to catch a glimce of the creature Roy had been trying to hide from him.
He didn't scream, stop walking or anything like that. Fur at the back of his neck rose a little, same with the ears turning sideways and twitching a little as he was trying to fight with keeping them down as to not attract too much attention. Eyes were wide, steps had slowed, but he was still silent regardless of the sight that he was witnessing.
But she told not to be afraid, right? Just a little spooked, that should be fine.
Keeping up on walking near Royanna, Christofer took it to himself to take her hand, as some comforting support. Again, she had told him that there was nothing to be afraid of, so he would just assume that the creature or being or whatever wouldn't do anything. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away from it as to not stare and be claimed impolite or rude. He could look away all day, focus on something else, but while he had Roy's hand he'd still know where to go. The grip wasn't a hard one but enough to keep him comfortable. He was being selfish.
"No.... Forget about it..." Shaking his head and disregarding any of his words about 'an opening'. Mind was elsewhere now. Head shook again when she suggested a restaurant, and questioningly he'd lift his head a little to take a look. "Mmmm, no, I did not even see that. I was looking in another direction, but, ok..." Well, he had learned something new, supposedly? Even if by accident. Well, he'd just have to be careful on what he was eating, naturally.
Walking further, maybe finally letting go of Royanna's hand too. Looking at the way of both sides of the hallway, canid kept observing. It was all just a rather big shopping mall to him, pretty much. And it had been a while since he had been to one. Still, the scent of the noodles and... well, whatever the place that Roy suggested had to offer, it hadn't been Too long since he had eaten 'instant' sort of food. So it was... A slight disappointment to him, not one that he'd let show too much, more masked out by the fact that they'd be fully visible to anyone walking past them so he was doubtful, but not complaining. A light sigh escaped, but food was food, at least it was safe and he had an idea on what it was going to taste like. At least he could eat it.
Gestured stool was taken, carefully as to not seem like it was a strange activity to him. It'd be rather clear that he was a meek customer, keeping a low profile and mustering what strength he had to try and not look awkward even as he hunched a little whenever looked at. The only sounds he'd make were towards Roy as she placed her order, first to try and ask where he'd know what to get and the second a silent "O-Oh...." [/color]as she took the liberty of ordering the same dish for both of them. Well, supposedly that worked, even if he'd have been capable of saying it himself and maybe it was safer eating the same familiar dish for now. But it wouldn't be bad knowing what they were getting, allergies or not. It was a full surprise to him. As much of a surprise as 'getting noodles at a place where the name had 'noodle' in it' could be. Oh well, it'd work.
It'd work to sate his stomach, the scents of spices that were caught by his muzzle as well as he warmth that came from the kitchen had him both forget that the hallway was Right There next to them. Hunger got the first place on the list to tend and treat to, he'd have his guard lowered in case anything else were to happen, but at least he wasn't staring at anyone else that may have been making their way down the hallway. He'd just sit nicely, hands at the edge of his seat in front of him as he couldn't figure where to place them, head moving every so often but observing was tightened to a smaller area now. To decorations, small things, text, lights, Royanna.
When finally served their portions and bowls, there'd be that small realizing "Aaaaa...." sound the canid let out. Yep, noodles in a noodle place. Of course, but head was bowed in return regardless as a form of thanking the man, as well as a "Thank you." hoping that they would understand and use the same language. At least it was all genuine.
Having been a while since he had last used sticks to eat, if ever, and with a different body even if his hands were mostly going to function just the same, he'd take a little longer than Royanna in handling the utensils, wondering if he had the right grip and testing with the air over his bowl if he could move the sticks. It would be looking like he had never used such tools or methods to use before. He had the idea, but he wasn't mastering it just yet, leaving it easy for Kallenger to be the first to get a taste. And burn her tongue. Hide as she might, he knew exactly what was up. "You ok?" Asked as an instinct. He knew to wait a little bit before trying to eat any himself, hungry but taking his time to get a grip of at least a few strings of the noodles before softly blowing at them to cool them and finally getting some in his mouth.
Unsurprisingly to a hungry man, the food was good. And the fact that it was warm and fresh just made it infinitely better. Little things in life. A little wag of his tail and an instant cheer to his overall posture.
"You come here often, I guess?" Used to at least, since she knew where to go and it wasn't too far from her base of operating. Made sense, but it could be a conversation starter, while they slowly worked on waiting and eating trying to not burn their mouths to the point of tasting nothing at all.
He did like cooking, and as long as there was nothing too weird about the appliances it'd be just fine. But as of now, he'd nicely comply to the easier alternative. Supposedly at least, people here hadn't minded them that much so far, so...
It was evidently rather strange when the atmosphere changed. He had gotten used to Royanna's attempts at smiling and he took them as genuinely as he could, just that it was a little strange when she persisted with it, his own light smile given in return fading slowly into awkward territory as ears slowly folded behind his head. It was going... A little too far, awkward even. So, of course, Chaotic-Good as he was, the canid looked away to not get too embarrassed of the situation. No-one probably paid that much attention to them, but he still thought that seeing them like that was going to be a little..... Yeah.
So he took his chance and looked away, only to catch a glimce of the creature Roy had been trying to hide from him.
He didn't scream, stop walking or anything like that. Fur at the back of his neck rose a little, same with the ears turning sideways and twitching a little as he was trying to fight with keeping them down as to not attract too much attention. Eyes were wide, steps had slowed, but he was still silent regardless of the sight that he was witnessing.
But she told not to be afraid, right? Just a little spooked, that should be fine.
Keeping up on walking near Royanna, Christofer took it to himself to take her hand, as some comforting support. Again, she had told him that there was nothing to be afraid of, so he would just assume that the creature or being or whatever wouldn't do anything. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away from it as to not stare and be claimed impolite or rude. He could look away all day, focus on something else, but while he had Roy's hand he'd still know where to go. The grip wasn't a hard one but enough to keep him comfortable. He was being selfish.
"No.... Forget about it..." Shaking his head and disregarding any of his words about 'an opening'. Mind was elsewhere now. Head shook again when she suggested a restaurant, and questioningly he'd lift his head a little to take a look. "Mmmm, no, I did not even see that. I was looking in another direction, but, ok..." Well, he had learned something new, supposedly? Even if by accident. Well, he'd just have to be careful on what he was eating, naturally.
Walking further, maybe finally letting go of Royanna's hand too. Looking at the way of both sides of the hallway, canid kept observing. It was all just a rather big shopping mall to him, pretty much. And it had been a while since he had been to one. Still, the scent of the noodles and... well, whatever the place that Roy suggested had to offer, it hadn't been Too long since he had eaten 'instant' sort of food. So it was... A slight disappointment to him, not one that he'd let show too much, more masked out by the fact that they'd be fully visible to anyone walking past them so he was doubtful, but not complaining. A light sigh escaped, but food was food, at least it was safe and he had an idea on what it was going to taste like. At least he could eat it.
Gestured stool was taken, carefully as to not seem like it was a strange activity to him. It'd be rather clear that he was a meek customer, keeping a low profile and mustering what strength he had to try and not look awkward even as he hunched a little whenever looked at. The only sounds he'd make were towards Roy as she placed her order, first to try and ask where he'd know what to get and the second a silent "O-Oh...." [/color]as she took the liberty of ordering the same dish for both of them. Well, supposedly that worked, even if he'd have been capable of saying it himself and maybe it was safer eating the same familiar dish for now. But it wouldn't be bad knowing what they were getting, allergies or not. It was a full surprise to him. As much of a surprise as 'getting noodles at a place where the name had 'noodle' in it' could be. Oh well, it'd work.
It'd work to sate his stomach, the scents of spices that were caught by his muzzle as well as he warmth that came from the kitchen had him both forget that the hallway was Right There next to them. Hunger got the first place on the list to tend and treat to, he'd have his guard lowered in case anything else were to happen, but at least he wasn't staring at anyone else that may have been making their way down the hallway. He'd just sit nicely, hands at the edge of his seat in front of him as he couldn't figure where to place them, head moving every so often but observing was tightened to a smaller area now. To decorations, small things, text, lights, Royanna.
When finally served their portions and bowls, there'd be that small realizing "Aaaaa...." sound the canid let out. Yep, noodles in a noodle place. Of course, but head was bowed in return regardless as a form of thanking the man, as well as a "Thank you." hoping that they would understand and use the same language. At least it was all genuine.
Having been a while since he had last used sticks to eat, if ever, and with a different body even if his hands were mostly going to function just the same, he'd take a little longer than Royanna in handling the utensils, wondering if he had the right grip and testing with the air over his bowl if he could move the sticks. It would be looking like he had never used such tools or methods to use before. He had the idea, but he wasn't mastering it just yet, leaving it easy for Kallenger to be the first to get a taste. And burn her tongue. Hide as she might, he knew exactly what was up. "You ok?" Asked as an instinct. He knew to wait a little bit before trying to eat any himself, hungry but taking his time to get a grip of at least a few strings of the noodles before softly blowing at them to cool them and finally getting some in his mouth.
Unsurprisingly to a hungry man, the food was good. And the fact that it was warm and fresh just made it infinitely better. Little things in life. A little wag of his tail and an instant cheer to his overall posture.
"You come here often, I guess?" Used to at least, since she knew where to go and it wasn't too far from her base of operating. Made sense, but it could be a conversation starter, while they slowly worked on waiting and eating trying to not burn their mouths to the point of tasting nothing at all.
Tora Station
As was surely to be expected, Royanna’s initial reaction to Christofer’s good natured, instinctual query as to her wellness was hostility. A minor, but perceptible flush, a tight expression.
Why should this runt be so condescending as to think that she, Royanna Kallenger, would be rendered by something so minor as a scalding of the tongue? Of course she was ‘okay’! How dare he-
But hardly half a second after that initial reaction, something incredible happened. Quite suddenly, any hint of hostility disappeared from her face as her expression softened like a cool wave falling over her. It was the tenderness of someone touched deeply in the most unexpected way.
She did not look at him, instead turning emerald eyes back to the noodles, staring almost wistfully into them as if contemplating something amazing, profound and wonderful that had only just been revealed to her.
The sheer pleasantness of that expression was alien to the woman’s usually harsh face - but it was far from unflattering. It was a small expression, even insignificant - so mild. Nothing world-shattering, and somehow not even particularly awkward.
Was that tiny, insignificant act of humanly concern so unknown to the woman? Had it really been so long since someone had, out of sheer kindness alone, without professional motivation or militant respect, asked if she was ‘okay’ over something as silly as a burned tongue?
Suddenly, one thing was very obvious - there would be no misconstruing it - it was. That minute act of concern was so unknown to Royanna Kallenger that to hear it meant the world twice over. People did not say nice things to Royanna Kallenger - mostly because Royanna Kallenger did not say nice things to anyone else. Indeed, she had brought that hate upon herself a thousand times over. She had forcefully shoved away any attempts at kindness, simultaneously making herself as unlikable as possible. She had dug the hole she was in - and now that she was deep enough to be engulfed within it’s shadows, the faintest glimmer of light was like a day’s warm sunlight.
As she looked down into her noodles, seeming to contemplate his little two word question, something still more incredible happened.
Royanna smiled.
It was not the sardonic, half-toxic smirk that usually passed for her smiles, either. It was faint, light and gentle. Almost imperceptible - bt for that reason, utterly genuine. Somehow, contradicting her usual nature, it suited her. It almost made her look pretty.
She thought of a story that her father had told her as a very young child. It was one of her first memories. The story of an adventurer who sought out the all-knowing oracle at great length, never divulging what he intended to ask along the way. When he finally arrived, the oracle told him he could ask one question. The adventurer looked into the oracle and asked ”How are you?”
Roy had never understood the point of that story. Though now she thought she might.
”Yeah I’m okay.” She said softly, distantly, in an almost dreamlike lilt. There was no hiding it; what Chistofer said had meant all the worlds to her.
Roy blinked, sniffling once as the warmth and steam from her food got into her nose. She glanced to him, just once - and he would see the softness, the delicateness of her emerald eyes for one brief moment. Eyes that, rather than the sharp gemstones of usual, were more like bright, milky jade. She blinked again, the soft little smile persisting, barely a tug at the corners of her lips, but so much more earnest for its unconsciousness. Then she looked back to the noodles, idly reaching for the glass bottle of cola and taking a sip to further cool the mild burn. More quietly still, and with a note of hesitation that could only be described as shyness she said ”Th...thanks for asking.”
Tenderly, gracefully she worked a sheaf of noodles around the sticks between her fingers, lifting them above the broth and blowing on them gently, taking her time now. This time, she was able to eat without pain, and the absent contentedness was enough to make known her delight at the taste of it.
When she spoke again after another bite, her voice was still soft and musing, the vaguely dreamlike quality of contentment. She nodded slightly.and made a small, affirmative sound. ”Mhm. Used to, anyway. It’s been a while...My mentor, Agent Severs, used to bring me here all the time for lessons. They’re all over the place so there was always one nearby.” She mused, eating more steadily now, but still with easy care. ”Actually it’s one of only a few franchises to have started on Ardella proper...Guess it sounds kind of stupid but despite it being the center of the Empire...There’s not a lot in the Galaxy to make you think of home if you’re from Ardella.”
She felt a little silly talking of such sentimentality, but still she spoke candidly enough. Two words, it seemed, could go a long way. If Christofer was able to broach topics of trivial matters, perhaps she could go along with them.
Several moments of idle, yet companionable silence passed then, and there were only the sounds of station life behind them, the quiet workings of the man on the other side of the counter as he went about preparing fresh vegetables and other ingredients for the next customers, though they were the only ones at present.
”What’s your home planet like?” She asked then, spontaneously but with the same quiet, musing tone as before. THe question had come somewhat out of the blue, but Roy tended to do that, he would likely know by now. She was just about to bite down on another bundle of noodles when she froze, mouth still open for a second. Then, flushing just a little, she glanced subtly toward him almost demurely, clarifying in something that was almost a self-conscious apology
”That’s...sort of a vague question I guess, sorry. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
Gormaand - Tullh
On the westernmost edge of the single cluster of continents that sat atop the Great Ocean of planet Gormaand, a jagged range of ashy mountains formed a natural barrier between the sickly coastline and the vast, fertile plains that made up much of the continent. Some several hundred Standard miles to the east of that black range, over hilly fields that bolstered and ripened along the way, was the borderland town of Tullh.
The planet of Gormaand was unusual in that while it was a medium-high-tech world (What the Ardellan Cataloguers would refer to as ’Tier 4’) it was neither a wealthy, nor densely populated world. In fact, as the only inhabited planet out of five that circled the Star Gormaand, it was downright lonesome.
Though lonesome did not automatically equate to bad, in the case of sleepy Gormaand.
Indeed, it was a good world, generally speaking. An overall amiable global climate with no extreme weather to speak of, it might have been a popular tourist destination except that there was nothing of any particular interest to see there. The five continents, each separated by a weaving network of calm sounds fed from the surrounding Great Ocean, were varied in terrain, culture and economy - but generally peaceful and with little major conflict to speak of. The westernmost of these continents, known locally as ’Westontinant’ - was mostly grassland and rolling hills with sparse vegetation. Hot, dry summers and hard winters, but nothing the folk who made their homes there couldn’t manage.
Far from a backwards society, one would be mistaken to take Gormaand’s simplicity and sparseness for barbarism. Though little interstellar traffic passed through the system, two days’ journey from the nearest star as it was, trade was solid and fulfilling, mostly dealing in bulk foodstuffs reaped from the rich farming community. Much of this was established via the expansive ’Carlos-Amari Starport’ located at the border of the planetary and trading capitol Armos City’, nestled within the vast steppes and valleys of the northernmost continent ’Northontinant’.
Whole not the cutting-edge of technological advancement - and, indeed, with virtually no scientific community to speak of - Gormaand was still far from technologically destitute. They had trains, planes and automobiles - even hover-tech and other advanced modes of operation. They had atomic power and the occasional forcefield. They had aethernet access to the rest of the Galaxy Wide. Many locals were even equipped with BrainPal™ technology thanks to their satellite office in downtown Armos. Their cities were sparse, but connected - their people hearty and good - if a little boring.
The town of Tullh, last stop before the Ashy Mountains on the edge of Westontinant, was an isolated ranchers’ and farmer’s town more by way of culture, heritage and opportunity rather than circumstance or destitution, or even necessity.
It was the sort of town where the young and restless were bored, the middle-aged were content, and the elderly were grumpy. A popular in the five-digits, it was large enough to have a bustling Main Street with two or three, or four story buildings, surrounded by a small band of suburb, followed by the great, wide swaths of ranches and farmlands that made up the vast majority of the town as a whole. It was big enough to have several main staple-gathering points, but small enough that one place - the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn - was clearly the most popular place to be. Large enough that nobody knew everyone else, that travelers and newcomers did not take much notice - small enough that rumors spread like midsummer brush fires and the occasional traveling maket-ship was a big deal.
It was the kind of place one might drift into from an old bus route, unsure as to how or why they had arrived. The sort of place to waste time in, or meditate in, or get stuck in. A place where just about anyone could find themselves, but not everyone could be found.
In short, Tullh was the kind of town that everyone was familiar with, whether or not they actually appreciated it.
Val watched with marked disinterest as the planet hanging among the stars below them grew gradually larger and larger, filling her field of vision. The ring of speckled blackness grew smaller until the world threatened to take up the whole of the circular porthole window - though it grew imperceptibly, with no sense of motion.
Objectively, she was aware that she should have been impressed by this sight. She should have been eager, even exalted at the opportunity to do what no other from her time had so much as aspired to. To see, first-hand, an actual exoplanet - let alone to step foot upon one! It was incredible - and hadn’t she been the sort of adventurous person who would leap at such opportunities?
She wasn’t exactly certain.
And what did it matter, anyway? So what if the person she used to be would have felt or reacted a certain way? It was irrelevant now.
All that mattered was the mission.
The quest.
The search.
That wasn’t to say she would go forth with total apathy. Of course it would be interesting to see new places and experience new things - but only so long as they coincide with the hunt that she had dedicated her new life to.
Val closed her eyes for a moment, letting the planet below disappear. Would she perhaps get another spark of memory, some vague vision of the hazy other life she had lived before the change? Would the tiresome implant send some rogue signal as it had several times over the past few days?
This time, there was nothing - only blackness. Her mild fascination with the person she used to be was little more than a passing morbid curiosity, but she was well aware of the dangers that could arise from such dubious trains of thought. When the ghost-memories did not come, the relief of temptation was soothing…
She could not trust those memories. Could not fall into the trap of believing anything to such an extent as to endanger her new self. Her real self. Whoever she was now, that was all who mattered.
She was Val now.
And that was what mattered.
It was with unprompted abruptness that the woman became aware once more of her fellow passengers; namely the prattling of the pink haired one and his insistently proclaimed ”friend”.
It did not matter what Caru was actually saying - she was not paying particular attention, and did not know quite what to think of him even after several days - but she knew what would come next. That much was a consistent pattern.
”Can someone please remind me again exactly why we needed to bring this twaddling jackass along again?” Demanded Gaelan Yascra venomously, pale face buried in one hand.
The Defense Specialist was a severe contrast to the cheerful, colorful Caru - black pseudo-tactical-casual attire, his harsh features, shaven head and wispy black mustache making him look like some kind of deep-dwelling serpent forced to endure warm sunshine and hating every second of it. Val could not understand why the man put up with Caru, since he made it so very obvious that he was the very antithesis of ‘love, friendship and compassion’ and despised the Lord with all his black little heart.
It did not matter, and Val found it amusing.
The answer to Yascra’s grumping came several long seconds later, in the form of a male’s voice that sounded much too youthful for the haunted demon that spoke them. She did not look toward Aelyn-Paeryc Petrovalyc when he spoke from the front of the cabin. Even if she could have seen his eyes from where she sat, she wouldn’t want to.
”A Dimensional Lord is a useful ally, regardless of the extent or nature of his powers.” he answered patiently, ”Our friend Caru knows a lot of things.”
”And knowing is half the battle.” Alexia chimed in, conversationally. ”He’ll be especially helpful should we encounter other Lords, and I’ve got the sinking feeling that we haven’t seen the last of them.”
Unsatisfied but all too accustomed to the consistently cool replies from the Captain, Yascra just gave a dejected sigh, and slumped in his seat - steeling himself to continue passively absorbing whatever doubtless valuable wisdom his “friend” had to discuss.
Val turned her attention back to the planet below, and let her mind wander.
But not too far.
The arrival of standard cargo ships, ferries, or merchant vessels was not so big a deal to the people of the borderland town of Tullh. Some came regularly, others more seldom - but they were not so backwards a people as to be astounded when a ship came to port. Indeed, there was usually one, maybe even two per week.
One of the regulars was the weekly shuttle that traveled between Gormaand’s port-of-entry station and Tullh proper, ferrying the occasional passenger or two back and forth on whatever business they might have had. Usually the people it brought back were coming home from some errand or journey, but it was also the rock-bottom cheapest method of getting from Port Authority Station to the Gormaand planetside… For obvious reasons.
There was also a hoverbus that made regular runs through the town via the Silverhound Station and stopping at all the other small towns along the road back to the planetary capitol, and even a rail like - BAMTrak - that mostly hauled freight, but was also wont to move passengers both paying and otherwise.
Visitors and strangers were common enough - sometimes causing a little stir, sometimes blending in unnoticed. What was not common however, was the sight of personal spacecraft landing in the little Tullh Spaceport and dispensing people who were clearly wealthy or important enough to actually own their own private interstellar conveyance. Such people rarely had any reason at all to visit the sleepy rancher’s town.
So when, on one sunny midsummer’s day around noon, the distant thundering boom of a high-speed atmospheric entry was heard across town, it did garner some hushed attention from the townsfolk. It was the size of a coach bus, shaped like a gigantic artillery shell or high-caliber bullet. It descended at breakneck speeds, slowing in a wide arc around the very outskirts of the most outlying ranch borders, then coming to a surprisingly graceful stop in some unobtrusive back corner of the starfield where it would surely be left well enough alone by any potential curious country kids.
Their curiosity - though kept subtle in the way that small-town interest always goes - was further peaked when rumors of just what kind of strangers had come in that sleek, clearly expensive little boat. An effeminate pink haired man and the dour, snake-like man that appeared to be a couple, so it was said - a couple of startlingly normal looking young women and…
And a demon.
Only one person had caught a glimpse of that most ominous visitor, alongside the woman with the long braid and the innocuous grey hooded sweatshirt. He was said to be tall, wearing a long, brown caped duster with long, unkempt black hair. Skin as pale as the moon with evil, shredded scars running up the side of his face.
And terrible, haunting black eyes, dotted with lonesome white pupils.
But those two had been seen only once in the several days since the strange ship had arrived.
The couple had been spotted milling around town and bickering - seeming to be on some kind of errand of infinitely ambiguous nature while somehow managing to not come off as sneaky or hostile - probably thanks to the way that the pink haired one’s cheerful nature contradicted his partner’s sour demeanor. But even they had been glimpsed only sparsely.
The only one of them to be spotted regularly and from the start was possibly the most normal looking of them all. Average height, reasonably pretty, with short brown hair cut neatly but somewhat feathered from a recent lull in brushing. She wore a loose, blue sweater and off-brown pants - and the only thing off about her was the sense of detachment and coldness she held about her.
She had come in to the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn - the most popular joint in town - on the first morning after their arrival, ordered a drink, sat at an out of the way table and nursed the beverage for as long as she could without it becoming disgusting. When she finished, she would order another. Just sitting, looking casually about over the rim of her glass.
She had doe the same thing every day since, sometimes ordering food. She was polite, never engaging in any real conversation, but not exuding an air of brooding, either. Did not go out of her way to talk, and politely, smoothly cut short any attempts on the part of others.
She was just another traveler at the Wanderer’s Rest. That kind of quiet, solitary but well mannered person was always coming by. Tullh was the kind of town one might seek out for privacy or space to think, and the Rest was the perfect place.
If she hadn’t been spotted exiting that weird little ship with the eccentric others, she would not have stood out at all.
???
Cornfield
Ty lay on his back in the cool, upturned soil midst the tall corn for a long time. It was a welcome sensation after the now remembered chaos of their most recent misfortune. Briefly he found himself daydreaming of his boyhood in the Hi’tzen Nation on Earth IV, laying just so deep within the damp jungles at the edge of the city. The sage-green clouds above were alien to him, but beautiful and soothing in their own way, like delicate tea.
All too abruptly though, this dazed almost-contentedness was dashed away to be replaced with a bitter and heated resentment at the sheer unfairness of it all. Just when things had been going so well! Just when they seemed to be making progress! Though he stared up with apparent impassiveness, his mind reeled with loathing at the inexorable cruelty of fate.
Sitting up with a jolt, the young soldier’s usual composure was momentarily broken as he rasped the first thing his hand found - a chilly, dit-clotted stone - and flung it furiously at the heap of scrap from which they had moments prior come stumbling. It ricocheted off the twisted hull with a loud gong that was immediately soaked into the corn without echo. Then, silence - and Ty hunched over and rubbed at his face and shaven head as he worked to once more compose himself.
They had always considered him to be the leader of their little band, ever since Sané had left them. Yet it felt all too often that he did not deserve that unofficial title. it seemed that every time things started to go right, it all turned around. Every time he seemed in control, he faltered. The hurling of the stone was just another example, a reminder that however cool and smooth and impeccable he seemed, it was achieved only with great effort.
Having released much of the tension, Ty finally returned to a resting position, seated there among the mineral-rich soil that had been churned up by their impact. Sighing, he shook his head.
”No, I’m pretty sore all over but thankfully undamaged...I think. What about you?” Rin might have noticed a subtle, but perceptive glance, the young man’s sharp eyes darting rapidly toward ankle and concealed wrist - but if the Nyran attested to no injury, Ty would simply look at him for a moment with level eyes, then nod almost as if understanding something unspoken.
Without another word, Ty got stiffy to his feet, looking around once more at their immediate surroundings. The corn was tall, he realized - very tall. Taller by him, even, by several feet. This was nothing exceptionally surprising, given that most planets had vegetation of varying size and fashion - but it made matters just that much more difficult.
Stepping carefully to avoid upturned stones and clots of earth, he approached the hunk of Koolest and began warily scaling up the side of it, using warped panels, protruding scraps and jagged tears as hand and footholds. He went without recklessness or haste, very aware that a wrong move could further worsen their situation.
Once he was high enough on the wreck to see over the top of the corn, he stopped, and looked around. What he saw did not seem to please him, and when he hopped back to the ground it was with an expression of sullen concern that looked almost stately on his elegant features.
”No sign of the rest of the ship.” he admitted gravely, ”But it looks like there is some kind of...village or settlement a few miles east.” They had already determined that no others were with them, so their course of action seemed clearly set before them.
”If you need to rest, rest.” He said, glancing again to the Nyran as he started over the little mound of upturned dirt to proceed down one neat row of tall, verdant corn. ”Better to go slow than risk worsening injury. I have a bad feeling that we may be very far from modern medicine.”
Swamp
Sands felt a momentary spike of irritation at that. Obviously their next step was to find the others. It did not need saying. But the ire was quelled almost immediately. Nerves, he knew - nothing more. And perhaps even there was good sense in stating the obvious, if only as a means of bolstering the confidence and direction of the small group.
Instead of voicing or letting show the momentary flash of irritation, Sands just nodded heavily. Then he looked back at the two companions with whom he would now have to survive. In truth, much of the resentment and hate he had held for the Qetan male was gone now. As with most natural disasters or overwhelming circumstances of dire peril, the introduction of this greater threat was enough to wash away much of the problems which now seemed all but trivial. He did not doubt that Retqi was still capable of treachery - but at this time, surely the Qetan was aware that all three presently needed each other if they were going to have any chance of being reunited with their friends.
”That’s the thing about these flimsy yachts.” he commented, unprompted. ”They break apart in atmosphere like toothpicks but the seals are pretty good. So they just fall in chunks. If we’re okay, the others probably are too. We just have to find them.”
Around them, the subtle sounds of swampland life began to creep into the realm of conscious hearing. Peep toads, the buzzing of small insects, If there were dangerous predators lurking in the muck and shadows waiting for their chance to pounce, they were silent and undetected. For now, at least.
Thanking Space for small favors, the floor of the swamp was not all spongy sod and muck. Natural paths of firm, mossy peat wove among the wirey trees and clustered, tangled underbrush, Daylight streamed through the leafy canopy enough to dapple the misty air with pale speckles.
”Toward the ocean then, I guess? Unless either of you have better ideas.” If he could smell the waft of distant salt air coming from the north, the others would surely as well. Given that the land did not appear to rise dramatically in any direction, walking toward the closest thing they had to a marker seemed like the best option on a short and uninspiring list - but if the others dissented, he would just as gladly follow them wherever they decided to go…
City
Wide-eyed, Dallen whirled to curse at whatever insolent savage had dared to chuck a rock at her. Her initial confusion upon seeing the bone-armored giant rather than a grimey peasant was immediately surmounted by the urgent certainty of what she needed to do next.
The dark-skinned woman clamped her hands hastily over her ears - losing her balance as she did so and tumbling backwards into the angled escape hatch where her exasperated aquatic-land-alien companion did the same.
It was obvious right away why she had been told to do this. Not a second after she had landed on her ass before Vaxur the booming voice of an angry god thundered above them. The hulking remnant of Koolest vibrated with the sheer force of it. She felt it in her guts. Not merely loud, but powerful. It sent a thrill of directionless anxiety through her body before dissipating.
-
Outside, the grumbling mob of peasants was immediately silenced. The wake of Kilwen’s Olympian command was thick and heavy upon the world. The filthy men and women, dressed in their limited varieties of rags and armed with their farmers’ tools and torches did not scatter - only standing there in utter, thunderstruck silence, all eyes turned wide and set upon the towering figure in his dragon-bone crown.
For what seemed like an age, nothing happened. Surely even Kilwen himself would be hesitant to move, should he break the extreme tension of that fragile silence. It seemed almost as if the people were too stupid to be afraid - except that the fear was plastered over all their dirty faces like so many does staring down so many headlights.
But it was not fear alone - no - mingled with the terror was awe.
Then, at long last, the silence was shattered by the grating, hysterical scream from somewhere within the mob - a voice beyond crazed, beyond maddened;
”MOTUK IS RISEEEEEEN!!”
At this, the intended result of Kilwen’s Shout came about with extreme clarity and abruptness. Instantly, a mass panic arose out of the whole mob. The dumbstruck bodies were at once screaming and flailing, scattering in all directions. From the din, several distinct cries could be heard such as ”Retribution!” and ”The end times are nigh!” and most disconcertingly, ”Burn for Motuk! Burn for God-King Motuk!!” Other bits and pieces, including words such as ‘sinners’, ‘blasphemers’ and ‘fire’ could be heard as well.
To make matters worse, the mob did not simply flee. Scatter they did - but not with escape on their minds.
Hardly seconds had passed since the riot’s outbreak before a torch from somewhere in the scattering mob went soaring through the air, landing softly atop the thatched straw roof of a nearby hovel and immediately setting it ablaze. By the time Kilwen had reached the gaping escape hatch and peered in to check on Dal and Vaxor, several other buildings had gone up in flames too. Carts were being overturned, barrels smashed, and though most of them seemed set on spreading news of the apocalypse and madly causing as much destruction as possible, many others had turned to blind, feral rage and taken to mauling with pitchforks, hacking with hatchets and brutally murdering each other in whatever way they could think of.
By the time Dallen had said ”Dude what did you do-” and poked her head back out the hatch to look bewildered at the ensuing chaos, fires could be seen sprouting up to a mile away as the entire vast, peasant city began to tear itself apart. Only the distant fortress or castle, safely tucked away behind it’s crude stone wall seemed untouched...as of yet.
Given that it was only a matter of time before someone was going to get the bright idea of smoking out the evil metal chunk that had fallen from the sky and brought the end of days, it seemed pertinent that the group vacate the premises post-haste.
”Uh, yeah I think we better get the @#$% outta’ here.” Dal said, raising her voice to be heard over the constant, though distant roar of people that had become a dull background noise as the screaming and wailing and burning started to spread throughout the city…
Forest
Jet Jackson’s bellowing voice carried for miles across the vast, airy wood in which he had found himself. Though the treetops were still far above him, even from his vantage point in the cave situated in the side of that high cliff, his cry seemed to carry forever, as if bouncing from one great tree trunk to the next. A flock of birds, startled, burst forth from one such cluster of branches not far off, and darted away in a flock that was both order and chaos intertwined.
But aside from the sudden starting of several woodland creatures, the big man was met with no response. His words echoed through the seemingly endless forest, disappearing alone and unheard. The serenity of that eternal wood returned as his voice faded into obscurity, then into nothingness.
How in great Space had he gotten up there?
More importantly, how would he get down?
For as long as he cared to stay there and wait, only the silence of the wood and gentle, earthen breeze by the mouth of the high-mounted cave would keep him company, all the creatures having gone quiet in the wake of his roaring cry.
And then, at last, likely just as he was making to either return to the small hunting lodge built into the belly of the cave or start searching more earnestly for a means of relatively safe descent, there was a response.
A voice.
It was the voice of a woman; slightly husky, as if the voice of a fair laborer, but with a stilted, almost primitive accent. Above all else, the voice sounded amused.
"Always do you sack the dwelling of your ally, help yourself to their wares and cry out your position to all the wide Lone World, Starlander?” The voice queried with that reserved, almost sly amusement, in that queer, stilted accent that made one think of noble savages and hard-living trappers.
And what was that she had called him?
The voice seemed to be coming from just outside and above the mouth of the cave.There was a short moment in which the man could reply to this almost playfully sardonic rhetorical before the speaker made herself known.
A pair of startling, bright golden eyes appeared along with a shock of deep auburn hair, hanging upside down from just above the cave mouth, where there must apparently have been a lip or outcropping jutting out, unseeable from below but wide enough for this strange and curious newcomer to perch upon. Then, with the adeptness and wiftness of any tree-dwelling mammal the woman swung down from that lip, landing lightly and silently on bare feet upon the cool, smoothstone cave floor - giving him a guarded,but still amused half-grin.
The woman was, objectively, a creature of great beauty. Wild beauty, even savage beauty. The deep brown hair that hung over her eyes - those golden eyes, like amber and honey, familiar, but only Jet would know if he could remember where he had seen such eyes before - was cropped short and carelessly, as if hacked with a sharp stone. A white cloth headband was wrapped around her forehead, billowing softly in the breeze behind her. She wore knee-length breeches and a short-cut vest, both made mostly of soft looking hide with some accents of old brass or copper, such as the belt buckle. Arms were clad in sturdy, but light looking leather bracers. From her belt hung a small variety of sundries, including a sheaf of dried leaves that gave off a faint scent of basil and pine, at least partially contributing to the fact that she herself had no scent at all - and the stubby sheath that would surely hold snug the razor-fang dagger that was now loosely gripped in one hand.
The most interesting and impressive aspect of her outfit was the glorious, even magnanimous cloak of ivory-white fur that hung about her shoulders, worn almost as a beloved and well-earned trophy. Whatever beast had felled to yield such a pelt must have been both mighty and fierce. Had the dagger come from the same terrible creature?
But possibly more notable even than that were the tattoos that adorned her lightly tanned skin. Blood-red slashes, dashed symmetrically along her ankles, legs, arms, navel and chest - with two crimson fangs decorating her cheekbones right below the goldenrod eyes. Those too seemed familiar - but again, only Jet would know if he recalled seeing similar such markings. Not exactly the same, but similar...And if one looked closely, a small shock of pale reddish hair could be made out just about the back of her head, close to the neck. But it had been cut shorter still, and might have been only a trick of light...
"I think I am not owe tribute to Gods, take no offense.” She added in her somehow primitive accent, eyes locked on his own. The bone dagger she held looked very sharp indeed, though she did not hold it in a threatening grip.
It suddenly seemed very possible, even likely that she was outright teasing him, given the guarded grin… The from that could easily have been a snarl.
"I beg no thanks, Starlander...But you’ll not so help yourself to my wares without honest battle. If ye'so want them, ye'can fight for them.”
Idly but deftly, the huntress spun the bone dagger in her loose grip. She did not give the impression of looking for a fight - but was clearly quite prepared to do battle if the stranger insisted. The did not seem to antagonize - but that was not to say her way could not be taken as such, especially given that faint grin tugging at the corner of her lips...
Then the woman shrugged softly, amiably, a slight movement of the hands more than shoulders. "We be enemies only at your will, Starlander."
As was surely to be expected, Royanna’s initial reaction to Christofer’s good natured, instinctual query as to her wellness was hostility. A minor, but perceptible flush, a tight expression.
Why should this runt be so condescending as to think that she, Royanna Kallenger, would be rendered by something so minor as a scalding of the tongue? Of course she was ‘okay’! How dare he-
But hardly half a second after that initial reaction, something incredible happened. Quite suddenly, any hint of hostility disappeared from her face as her expression softened like a cool wave falling over her. It was the tenderness of someone touched deeply in the most unexpected way.
She did not look at him, instead turning emerald eyes back to the noodles, staring almost wistfully into them as if contemplating something amazing, profound and wonderful that had only just been revealed to her.
The sheer pleasantness of that expression was alien to the woman’s usually harsh face - but it was far from unflattering. It was a small expression, even insignificant - so mild. Nothing world-shattering, and somehow not even particularly awkward.
Was that tiny, insignificant act of humanly concern so unknown to the woman? Had it really been so long since someone had, out of sheer kindness alone, without professional motivation or militant respect, asked if she was ‘okay’ over something as silly as a burned tongue?
Suddenly, one thing was very obvious - there would be no misconstruing it - it was. That minute act of concern was so unknown to Royanna Kallenger that to hear it meant the world twice over. People did not say nice things to Royanna Kallenger - mostly because Royanna Kallenger did not say nice things to anyone else. Indeed, she had brought that hate upon herself a thousand times over. She had forcefully shoved away any attempts at kindness, simultaneously making herself as unlikable as possible. She had dug the hole she was in - and now that she was deep enough to be engulfed within it’s shadows, the faintest glimmer of light was like a day’s warm sunlight.
As she looked down into her noodles, seeming to contemplate his little two word question, something still more incredible happened.
Royanna smiled.
It was not the sardonic, half-toxic smirk that usually passed for her smiles, either. It was faint, light and gentle. Almost imperceptible - bt for that reason, utterly genuine. Somehow, contradicting her usual nature, it suited her. It almost made her look pretty.
She thought of a story that her father had told her as a very young child. It was one of her first memories. The story of an adventurer who sought out the all-knowing oracle at great length, never divulging what he intended to ask along the way. When he finally arrived, the oracle told him he could ask one question. The adventurer looked into the oracle and asked ”How are you?”
Roy had never understood the point of that story. Though now she thought she might.
”Yeah I’m okay.” She said softly, distantly, in an almost dreamlike lilt. There was no hiding it; what Chistofer said had meant all the worlds to her.
Roy blinked, sniffling once as the warmth and steam from her food got into her nose. She glanced to him, just once - and he would see the softness, the delicateness of her emerald eyes for one brief moment. Eyes that, rather than the sharp gemstones of usual, were more like bright, milky jade. She blinked again, the soft little smile persisting, barely a tug at the corners of her lips, but so much more earnest for its unconsciousness. Then she looked back to the noodles, idly reaching for the glass bottle of cola and taking a sip to further cool the mild burn. More quietly still, and with a note of hesitation that could only be described as shyness she said ”Th...thanks for asking.”
Tenderly, gracefully she worked a sheaf of noodles around the sticks between her fingers, lifting them above the broth and blowing on them gently, taking her time now. This time, she was able to eat without pain, and the absent contentedness was enough to make known her delight at the taste of it.
When she spoke again after another bite, her voice was still soft and musing, the vaguely dreamlike quality of contentment. She nodded slightly.and made a small, affirmative sound. ”Mhm. Used to, anyway. It’s been a while...My mentor, Agent Severs, used to bring me here all the time for lessons. They’re all over the place so there was always one nearby.” She mused, eating more steadily now, but still with easy care. ”Actually it’s one of only a few franchises to have started on Ardella proper...Guess it sounds kind of stupid but despite it being the center of the Empire...There’s not a lot in the Galaxy to make you think of home if you’re from Ardella.”
She felt a little silly talking of such sentimentality, but still she spoke candidly enough. Two words, it seemed, could go a long way. If Christofer was able to broach topics of trivial matters, perhaps she could go along with them.
Several moments of idle, yet companionable silence passed then, and there were only the sounds of station life behind them, the quiet workings of the man on the other side of the counter as he went about preparing fresh vegetables and other ingredients for the next customers, though they were the only ones at present.
”What’s your home planet like?” She asked then, spontaneously but with the same quiet, musing tone as before. THe question had come somewhat out of the blue, but Roy tended to do that, he would likely know by now. She was just about to bite down on another bundle of noodles when she froze, mouth still open for a second. Then, flushing just a little, she glanced subtly toward him almost demurely, clarifying in something that was almost a self-conscious apology
”That’s...sort of a vague question I guess, sorry. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
Gormaand - Tullh
On the westernmost edge of the single cluster of continents that sat atop the Great Ocean of planet Gormaand, a jagged range of ashy mountains formed a natural barrier between the sickly coastline and the vast, fertile plains that made up much of the continent. Some several hundred Standard miles to the east of that black range, over hilly fields that bolstered and ripened along the way, was the borderland town of Tullh.
The planet of Gormaand was unusual in that while it was a medium-high-tech world (What the Ardellan Cataloguers would refer to as ’Tier 4’) it was neither a wealthy, nor densely populated world. In fact, as the only inhabited planet out of five that circled the Star Gormaand, it was downright lonesome.
Though lonesome did not automatically equate to bad, in the case of sleepy Gormaand.
Indeed, it was a good world, generally speaking. An overall amiable global climate with no extreme weather to speak of, it might have been a popular tourist destination except that there was nothing of any particular interest to see there. The five continents, each separated by a weaving network of calm sounds fed from the surrounding Great Ocean, were varied in terrain, culture and economy - but generally peaceful and with little major conflict to speak of. The westernmost of these continents, known locally as ’Westontinant’ - was mostly grassland and rolling hills with sparse vegetation. Hot, dry summers and hard winters, but nothing the folk who made their homes there couldn’t manage.
Far from a backwards society, one would be mistaken to take Gormaand’s simplicity and sparseness for barbarism. Though little interstellar traffic passed through the system, two days’ journey from the nearest star as it was, trade was solid and fulfilling, mostly dealing in bulk foodstuffs reaped from the rich farming community. Much of this was established via the expansive ’Carlos-Amari Starport’ located at the border of the planetary and trading capitol Armos City’, nestled within the vast steppes and valleys of the northernmost continent ’Northontinant’.
Whole not the cutting-edge of technological advancement - and, indeed, with virtually no scientific community to speak of - Gormaand was still far from technologically destitute. They had trains, planes and automobiles - even hover-tech and other advanced modes of operation. They had atomic power and the occasional forcefield. They had aethernet access to the rest of the Galaxy Wide. Many locals were even equipped with BrainPal™ technology thanks to their satellite office in downtown Armos. Their cities were sparse, but connected - their people hearty and good - if a little boring.
The town of Tullh, last stop before the Ashy Mountains on the edge of Westontinant, was an isolated ranchers’ and farmer’s town more by way of culture, heritage and opportunity rather than circumstance or destitution, or even necessity.
It was the sort of town where the young and restless were bored, the middle-aged were content, and the elderly were grumpy. A popular in the five-digits, it was large enough to have a bustling Main Street with two or three, or four story buildings, surrounded by a small band of suburb, followed by the great, wide swaths of ranches and farmlands that made up the vast majority of the town as a whole. It was big enough to have several main staple-gathering points, but small enough that one place - the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn - was clearly the most popular place to be. Large enough that nobody knew everyone else, that travelers and newcomers did not take much notice - small enough that rumors spread like midsummer brush fires and the occasional traveling maket-ship was a big deal.
It was the kind of place one might drift into from an old bus route, unsure as to how or why they had arrived. The sort of place to waste time in, or meditate in, or get stuck in. A place where just about anyone could find themselves, but not everyone could be found.
In short, Tullh was the kind of town that everyone was familiar with, whether or not they actually appreciated it.
Val watched with marked disinterest as the planet hanging among the stars below them grew gradually larger and larger, filling her field of vision. The ring of speckled blackness grew smaller until the world threatened to take up the whole of the circular porthole window - though it grew imperceptibly, with no sense of motion.
Objectively, she was aware that she should have been impressed by this sight. She should have been eager, even exalted at the opportunity to do what no other from her time had so much as aspired to. To see, first-hand, an actual exoplanet - let alone to step foot upon one! It was incredible - and hadn’t she been the sort of adventurous person who would leap at such opportunities?
She wasn’t exactly certain.
And what did it matter, anyway? So what if the person she used to be would have felt or reacted a certain way? It was irrelevant now.
All that mattered was the mission.
The quest.
The search.
That wasn’t to say she would go forth with total apathy. Of course it would be interesting to see new places and experience new things - but only so long as they coincide with the hunt that she had dedicated her new life to.
Val closed her eyes for a moment, letting the planet below disappear. Would she perhaps get another spark of memory, some vague vision of the hazy other life she had lived before the change? Would the tiresome implant send some rogue signal as it had several times over the past few days?
This time, there was nothing - only blackness. Her mild fascination with the person she used to be was little more than a passing morbid curiosity, but she was well aware of the dangers that could arise from such dubious trains of thought. When the ghost-memories did not come, the relief of temptation was soothing…
She could not trust those memories. Could not fall into the trap of believing anything to such an extent as to endanger her new self. Her real self. Whoever she was now, that was all who mattered.
She was Val now.
And that was what mattered.
It was with unprompted abruptness that the woman became aware once more of her fellow passengers; namely the prattling of the pink haired one and his insistently proclaimed ”friend”.
It did not matter what Caru was actually saying - she was not paying particular attention, and did not know quite what to think of him even after several days - but she knew what would come next. That much was a consistent pattern.
”Can someone please remind me again exactly why we needed to bring this twaddling jackass along again?” Demanded Gaelan Yascra venomously, pale face buried in one hand.
The Defense Specialist was a severe contrast to the cheerful, colorful Caru - black pseudo-tactical-casual attire, his harsh features, shaven head and wispy black mustache making him look like some kind of deep-dwelling serpent forced to endure warm sunshine and hating every second of it. Val could not understand why the man put up with Caru, since he made it so very obvious that he was the very antithesis of ‘love, friendship and compassion’ and despised the Lord with all his black little heart.
It did not matter, and Val found it amusing.
The answer to Yascra’s grumping came several long seconds later, in the form of a male’s voice that sounded much too youthful for the haunted demon that spoke them. She did not look toward Aelyn-Paeryc Petrovalyc when he spoke from the front of the cabin. Even if she could have seen his eyes from where she sat, she wouldn’t want to.
”A Dimensional Lord is a useful ally, regardless of the extent or nature of his powers.” he answered patiently, ”Our friend Caru knows a lot of things.”
”And knowing is half the battle.” Alexia chimed in, conversationally. ”He’ll be especially helpful should we encounter other Lords, and I’ve got the sinking feeling that we haven’t seen the last of them.”
Unsatisfied but all too accustomed to the consistently cool replies from the Captain, Yascra just gave a dejected sigh, and slumped in his seat - steeling himself to continue passively absorbing whatever doubtless valuable wisdom his “friend” had to discuss.
Val turned her attention back to the planet below, and let her mind wander.
But not too far.
The arrival of standard cargo ships, ferries, or merchant vessels was not so big a deal to the people of the borderland town of Tullh. Some came regularly, others more seldom - but they were not so backwards a people as to be astounded when a ship came to port. Indeed, there was usually one, maybe even two per week.
One of the regulars was the weekly shuttle that traveled between Gormaand’s port-of-entry station and Tullh proper, ferrying the occasional passenger or two back and forth on whatever business they might have had. Usually the people it brought back were coming home from some errand or journey, but it was also the rock-bottom cheapest method of getting from Port Authority Station to the Gormaand planetside… For obvious reasons.
There was also a hoverbus that made regular runs through the town via the Silverhound Station and stopping at all the other small towns along the road back to the planetary capitol, and even a rail like - BAMTrak - that mostly hauled freight, but was also wont to move passengers both paying and otherwise.
Visitors and strangers were common enough - sometimes causing a little stir, sometimes blending in unnoticed. What was not common however, was the sight of personal spacecraft landing in the little Tullh Spaceport and dispensing people who were clearly wealthy or important enough to actually own their own private interstellar conveyance. Such people rarely had any reason at all to visit the sleepy rancher’s town.
So when, on one sunny midsummer’s day around noon, the distant thundering boom of a high-speed atmospheric entry was heard across town, it did garner some hushed attention from the townsfolk. It was the size of a coach bus, shaped like a gigantic artillery shell or high-caliber bullet. It descended at breakneck speeds, slowing in a wide arc around the very outskirts of the most outlying ranch borders, then coming to a surprisingly graceful stop in some unobtrusive back corner of the starfield where it would surely be left well enough alone by any potential curious country kids.
Their curiosity - though kept subtle in the way that small-town interest always goes - was further peaked when rumors of just what kind of strangers had come in that sleek, clearly expensive little boat. An effeminate pink haired man and the dour, snake-like man that appeared to be a couple, so it was said - a couple of startlingly normal looking young women and…
And a demon.
Only one person had caught a glimpse of that most ominous visitor, alongside the woman with the long braid and the innocuous grey hooded sweatshirt. He was said to be tall, wearing a long, brown caped duster with long, unkempt black hair. Skin as pale as the moon with evil, shredded scars running up the side of his face.
And terrible, haunting black eyes, dotted with lonesome white pupils.
But those two had been seen only once in the several days since the strange ship had arrived.
The couple had been spotted milling around town and bickering - seeming to be on some kind of errand of infinitely ambiguous nature while somehow managing to not come off as sneaky or hostile - probably thanks to the way that the pink haired one’s cheerful nature contradicted his partner’s sour demeanor. But even they had been glimpsed only sparsely.
The only one of them to be spotted regularly and from the start was possibly the most normal looking of them all. Average height, reasonably pretty, with short brown hair cut neatly but somewhat feathered from a recent lull in brushing. She wore a loose, blue sweater and off-brown pants - and the only thing off about her was the sense of detachment and coldness she held about her.She had come in to the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn - the most popular joint in town - on the first morning after their arrival, ordered a drink, sat at an out of the way table and nursed the beverage for as long as she could without it becoming disgusting. When she finished, she would order another. Just sitting, looking casually about over the rim of her glass.
She had doe the same thing every day since, sometimes ordering food. She was polite, never engaging in any real conversation, but not exuding an air of brooding, either. Did not go out of her way to talk, and politely, smoothly cut short any attempts on the part of others.
She was just another traveler at the Wanderer’s Rest. That kind of quiet, solitary but well mannered person was always coming by. Tullh was the kind of town one might seek out for privacy or space to think, and the Rest was the perfect place.
If she hadn’t been spotted exiting that weird little ship with the eccentric others, she would not have stood out at all.
???
Cornfield
Ty lay on his back in the cool, upturned soil midst the tall corn for a long time. It was a welcome sensation after the now remembered chaos of their most recent misfortune. Briefly he found himself daydreaming of his boyhood in the Hi’tzen Nation on Earth IV, laying just so deep within the damp jungles at the edge of the city. The sage-green clouds above were alien to him, but beautiful and soothing in their own way, like delicate tea.
All too abruptly though, this dazed almost-contentedness was dashed away to be replaced with a bitter and heated resentment at the sheer unfairness of it all. Just when things had been going so well! Just when they seemed to be making progress! Though he stared up with apparent impassiveness, his mind reeled with loathing at the inexorable cruelty of fate.
Sitting up with a jolt, the young soldier’s usual composure was momentarily broken as he rasped the first thing his hand found - a chilly, dit-clotted stone - and flung it furiously at the heap of scrap from which they had moments prior come stumbling. It ricocheted off the twisted hull with a loud gong that was immediately soaked into the corn without echo. Then, silence - and Ty hunched over and rubbed at his face and shaven head as he worked to once more compose himself.
They had always considered him to be the leader of their little band, ever since Sané had left them. Yet it felt all too often that he did not deserve that unofficial title. it seemed that every time things started to go right, it all turned around. Every time he seemed in control, he faltered. The hurling of the stone was just another example, a reminder that however cool and smooth and impeccable he seemed, it was achieved only with great effort.
Having released much of the tension, Ty finally returned to a resting position, seated there among the mineral-rich soil that had been churned up by their impact. Sighing, he shook his head.
”No, I’m pretty sore all over but thankfully undamaged...I think. What about you?” Rin might have noticed a subtle, but perceptive glance, the young man’s sharp eyes darting rapidly toward ankle and concealed wrist - but if the Nyran attested to no injury, Ty would simply look at him for a moment with level eyes, then nod almost as if understanding something unspoken.
Without another word, Ty got stiffy to his feet, looking around once more at their immediate surroundings. The corn was tall, he realized - very tall. Taller by him, even, by several feet. This was nothing exceptionally surprising, given that most planets had vegetation of varying size and fashion - but it made matters just that much more difficult.
Stepping carefully to avoid upturned stones and clots of earth, he approached the hunk of Koolest and began warily scaling up the side of it, using warped panels, protruding scraps and jagged tears as hand and footholds. He went without recklessness or haste, very aware that a wrong move could further worsen their situation.
Once he was high enough on the wreck to see over the top of the corn, he stopped, and looked around. What he saw did not seem to please him, and when he hopped back to the ground it was with an expression of sullen concern that looked almost stately on his elegant features.
”No sign of the rest of the ship.” he admitted gravely, ”But it looks like there is some kind of...village or settlement a few miles east.” They had already determined that no others were with them, so their course of action seemed clearly set before them.
”If you need to rest, rest.” He said, glancing again to the Nyran as he started over the little mound of upturned dirt to proceed down one neat row of tall, verdant corn. ”Better to go slow than risk worsening injury. I have a bad feeling that we may be very far from modern medicine.”
Swamp
Sands felt a momentary spike of irritation at that. Obviously their next step was to find the others. It did not need saying. But the ire was quelled almost immediately. Nerves, he knew - nothing more. And perhaps even there was good sense in stating the obvious, if only as a means of bolstering the confidence and direction of the small group.
Instead of voicing or letting show the momentary flash of irritation, Sands just nodded heavily. Then he looked back at the two companions with whom he would now have to survive. In truth, much of the resentment and hate he had held for the Qetan male was gone now. As with most natural disasters or overwhelming circumstances of dire peril, the introduction of this greater threat was enough to wash away much of the problems which now seemed all but trivial. He did not doubt that Retqi was still capable of treachery - but at this time, surely the Qetan was aware that all three presently needed each other if they were going to have any chance of being reunited with their friends.
”That’s the thing about these flimsy yachts.” he commented, unprompted. ”They break apart in atmosphere like toothpicks but the seals are pretty good. So they just fall in chunks. If we’re okay, the others probably are too. We just have to find them.”
Around them, the subtle sounds of swampland life began to creep into the realm of conscious hearing. Peep toads, the buzzing of small insects, If there were dangerous predators lurking in the muck and shadows waiting for their chance to pounce, they were silent and undetected. For now, at least.
Thanking Space for small favors, the floor of the swamp was not all spongy sod and muck. Natural paths of firm, mossy peat wove among the wirey trees and clustered, tangled underbrush, Daylight streamed through the leafy canopy enough to dapple the misty air with pale speckles.
”Toward the ocean then, I guess? Unless either of you have better ideas.” If he could smell the waft of distant salt air coming from the north, the others would surely as well. Given that the land did not appear to rise dramatically in any direction, walking toward the closest thing they had to a marker seemed like the best option on a short and uninspiring list - but if the others dissented, he would just as gladly follow them wherever they decided to go…
City
Wide-eyed, Dallen whirled to curse at whatever insolent savage had dared to chuck a rock at her. Her initial confusion upon seeing the bone-armored giant rather than a grimey peasant was immediately surmounted by the urgent certainty of what she needed to do next.
The dark-skinned woman clamped her hands hastily over her ears - losing her balance as she did so and tumbling backwards into the angled escape hatch where her exasperated aquatic-land-alien companion did the same.
It was obvious right away why she had been told to do this. Not a second after she had landed on her ass before Vaxur the booming voice of an angry god thundered above them. The hulking remnant of Koolest vibrated with the sheer force of it. She felt it in her guts. Not merely loud, but powerful. It sent a thrill of directionless anxiety through her body before dissipating.
-
Outside, the grumbling mob of peasants was immediately silenced. The wake of Kilwen’s Olympian command was thick and heavy upon the world. The filthy men and women, dressed in their limited varieties of rags and armed with their farmers’ tools and torches did not scatter - only standing there in utter, thunderstruck silence, all eyes turned wide and set upon the towering figure in his dragon-bone crown.
For what seemed like an age, nothing happened. Surely even Kilwen himself would be hesitant to move, should he break the extreme tension of that fragile silence. It seemed almost as if the people were too stupid to be afraid - except that the fear was plastered over all their dirty faces like so many does staring down so many headlights.
But it was not fear alone - no - mingled with the terror was awe.
Then, at long last, the silence was shattered by the grating, hysterical scream from somewhere within the mob - a voice beyond crazed, beyond maddened;
”MOTUK IS RISEEEEEEN!!”
At this, the intended result of Kilwen’s Shout came about with extreme clarity and abruptness. Instantly, a mass panic arose out of the whole mob. The dumbstruck bodies were at once screaming and flailing, scattering in all directions. From the din, several distinct cries could be heard such as ”Retribution!” and ”The end times are nigh!” and most disconcertingly, ”Burn for Motuk! Burn for God-King Motuk!!” Other bits and pieces, including words such as ‘sinners’, ‘blasphemers’ and ‘fire’ could be heard as well.
To make matters worse, the mob did not simply flee. Scatter they did - but not with escape on their minds.
Hardly seconds had passed since the riot’s outbreak before a torch from somewhere in the scattering mob went soaring through the air, landing softly atop the thatched straw roof of a nearby hovel and immediately setting it ablaze. By the time Kilwen had reached the gaping escape hatch and peered in to check on Dal and Vaxor, several other buildings had gone up in flames too. Carts were being overturned, barrels smashed, and though most of them seemed set on spreading news of the apocalypse and madly causing as much destruction as possible, many others had turned to blind, feral rage and taken to mauling with pitchforks, hacking with hatchets and brutally murdering each other in whatever way they could think of.
By the time Dallen had said ”Dude what did you do-” and poked her head back out the hatch to look bewildered at the ensuing chaos, fires could be seen sprouting up to a mile away as the entire vast, peasant city began to tear itself apart. Only the distant fortress or castle, safely tucked away behind it’s crude stone wall seemed untouched...as of yet.
Given that it was only a matter of time before someone was going to get the bright idea of smoking out the evil metal chunk that had fallen from the sky and brought the end of days, it seemed pertinent that the group vacate the premises post-haste.
”Uh, yeah I think we better get the @#$% outta’ here.” Dal said, raising her voice to be heard over the constant, though distant roar of people that had become a dull background noise as the screaming and wailing and burning started to spread throughout the city…
Forest
Jet Jackson’s bellowing voice carried for miles across the vast, airy wood in which he had found himself. Though the treetops were still far above him, even from his vantage point in the cave situated in the side of that high cliff, his cry seemed to carry forever, as if bouncing from one great tree trunk to the next. A flock of birds, startled, burst forth from one such cluster of branches not far off, and darted away in a flock that was both order and chaos intertwined.
But aside from the sudden starting of several woodland creatures, the big man was met with no response. His words echoed through the seemingly endless forest, disappearing alone and unheard. The serenity of that eternal wood returned as his voice faded into obscurity, then into nothingness.
How in great Space had he gotten up there?
More importantly, how would he get down?
For as long as he cared to stay there and wait, only the silence of the wood and gentle, earthen breeze by the mouth of the high-mounted cave would keep him company, all the creatures having gone quiet in the wake of his roaring cry.
And then, at last, likely just as he was making to either return to the small hunting lodge built into the belly of the cave or start searching more earnestly for a means of relatively safe descent, there was a response.
A voice.
It was the voice of a woman; slightly husky, as if the voice of a fair laborer, but with a stilted, almost primitive accent. Above all else, the voice sounded amused.
"Always do you sack the dwelling of your ally, help yourself to their wares and cry out your position to all the wide Lone World, Starlander?” The voice queried with that reserved, almost sly amusement, in that queer, stilted accent that made one think of noble savages and hard-living trappers.
And what was that she had called him?
The voice seemed to be coming from just outside and above the mouth of the cave.There was a short moment in which the man could reply to this almost playfully sardonic rhetorical before the speaker made herself known.
A pair of startling, bright golden eyes appeared along with a shock of deep auburn hair, hanging upside down from just above the cave mouth, where there must apparently have been a lip or outcropping jutting out, unseeable from below but wide enough for this strange and curious newcomer to perch upon. Then, with the adeptness and wiftness of any tree-dwelling mammal the woman swung down from that lip, landing lightly and silently on bare feet upon the cool, smoothstone cave floor - giving him a guarded,but still amused half-grin.
The woman was, objectively, a creature of great beauty. Wild beauty, even savage beauty. The deep brown hair that hung over her eyes - those golden eyes, like amber and honey, familiar, but only Jet would know if he could remember where he had seen such eyes before - was cropped short and carelessly, as if hacked with a sharp stone. A white cloth headband was wrapped around her forehead, billowing softly in the breeze behind her. She wore knee-length breeches and a short-cut vest, both made mostly of soft looking hide with some accents of old brass or copper, such as the belt buckle. Arms were clad in sturdy, but light looking leather bracers. From her belt hung a small variety of sundries, including a sheaf of dried leaves that gave off a faint scent of basil and pine, at least partially contributing to the fact that she herself had no scent at all - and the stubby sheath that would surely hold snug the razor-fang dagger that was now loosely gripped in one hand.The most interesting and impressive aspect of her outfit was the glorious, even magnanimous cloak of ivory-white fur that hung about her shoulders, worn almost as a beloved and well-earned trophy. Whatever beast had felled to yield such a pelt must have been both mighty and fierce. Had the dagger come from the same terrible creature?
But possibly more notable even than that were the tattoos that adorned her lightly tanned skin. Blood-red slashes, dashed symmetrically along her ankles, legs, arms, navel and chest - with two crimson fangs decorating her cheekbones right below the goldenrod eyes. Those too seemed familiar - but again, only Jet would know if he recalled seeing similar such markings. Not exactly the same, but similar...And if one looked closely, a small shock of pale reddish hair could be made out just about the back of her head, close to the neck. But it had been cut shorter still, and might have been only a trick of light...
"I think I am not owe tribute to Gods, take no offense.” She added in her somehow primitive accent, eyes locked on his own. The bone dagger she held looked very sharp indeed, though she did not hold it in a threatening grip.
It suddenly seemed very possible, even likely that she was outright teasing him, given the guarded grin… The from that could easily have been a snarl.
"I beg no thanks, Starlander...But you’ll not so help yourself to my wares without honest battle. If ye'so want them, ye'can fight for them.”
Idly but deftly, the huntress spun the bone dagger in her loose grip. She did not give the impression of looking for a fight - but was clearly quite prepared to do battle if the stranger insisted. The did not seem to antagonize - but that was not to say her way could not be taken as such, especially given that faint grin tugging at the corner of her lips...
Then the woman shrugged softly, amiably, a slight movement of the hands more than shoulders. "We be enemies only at your will, Starlander."
Christofer would certainly take note of this change in expression and behaviour that Royanna experienced. Learning to know the woman a little better, the silence indicated him that he maybe shouldn't have said anything, the feeling inching in on him and his uncertain thoughts up until the real reaction was brought out. And that was a bit of a new one, canid couldn't help but to blink as he saw the smile. Ah, there was never any doubt that Royanna could smile, that he trusted upon, but to actually see her do that?
It made him very happy.
In resonance to her own expressiveness, the canid smiled in return, warmly and softly as he usually did, but he could feel very relaxed doing it. No stress or worries over others watching, they were outsiders at the moment. He didn't even worry about an ambush or anything of the likes. Not at all. For now, it was just the two of them and their smiles.
Boy... He knew a certain someone would find that very sappy... It didn't show on the outside nor did it hinder the output of his emotions on the outside and smile was kept even with closed eyes until he turned back to his own bowl to continue eating, all the while the thoughts pinched the back of his head for being like that.
Well, at least it had been a nice moment of genuine happiness and freedom, that was always nice.
Her shy thanks were heard and in regards to those he softly waved them away with a hand. Don't push it, you're doing well. And he was modest. "That's good to hear~" In return to her saying she was fine the first time, to not risk embarrassing her or anything. It was something, a small start for a casual moment. A happy chime but kept to a more quiet level as to not spread the attention any further than needed.
Focusing on her words while trying to make sure the food didn't get cold also, he'd nod every so often and make a break to look at her if anything caught his interest.
"Ah, I probably can't ask what the lessons were like. Maybe it's better I don't." He was kinda curious as to what training there would have been at a station like this, but hey, maybe it was a secret. Better not press on those.
Turning back to his own portion of still steamy noodles, he'd be picking some up and turning them over to pull some more to the surface, maybe to cool down by some logic.
"It reminds me of some more exotic foods and restaurants at home, although I never quite visited any of them back there. They weren't native to where I was from, obviously, exotic and all, but it's rather interesting I'd think? To have something that originates from where you're from to be quite known all around? Right?" The universe was quite big afterall, especially now since they were, for god's sake, in space of all places.
Christofer, having gotten used to the more smalltalk like mood of the moment, didn't really waste more than a word of thought on her question or any deeper meanings behind it. It was just idle talk to him now. All very casual and obvious in a way.
"It's like... This, kinda medium, small... I'd say medium, mmmm, mostly blue, some green, some brown... All sorts of terrains and people. Climates, seasons..." Pausing every so often as he ate one small bite at a time, making sure to not speak while he had his mouth occupied for proper mannerism. "It's this nice calm place, habitable, rich... Mmmm.... Is this all very obvious? I'm sorry, I've not really ever described a planet to anyone." Head was lifted so he could look towards her for the time being, apologizing a little with the look he gave. He was feeling quite content, but he really wasn't sure on what she'd want to know. Like a rookie, he just went over whatever what obvious to him and that made him feel a little embarrassed. Hadn't he been taught somewhere that all habitable planets would most likely be like that, like what he described? Oh.... He wasn't all that good with this!
It made him very happy.
In resonance to her own expressiveness, the canid smiled in return, warmly and softly as he usually did, but he could feel very relaxed doing it. No stress or worries over others watching, they were outsiders at the moment. He didn't even worry about an ambush or anything of the likes. Not at all. For now, it was just the two of them and their smiles.
Boy... He knew a certain someone would find that very sappy... It didn't show on the outside nor did it hinder the output of his emotions on the outside and smile was kept even with closed eyes until he turned back to his own bowl to continue eating, all the while the thoughts pinched the back of his head for being like that.
Well, at least it had been a nice moment of genuine happiness and freedom, that was always nice.
Her shy thanks were heard and in regards to those he softly waved them away with a hand. Don't push it, you're doing well. And he was modest. "That's good to hear~" In return to her saying she was fine the first time, to not risk embarrassing her or anything. It was something, a small start for a casual moment. A happy chime but kept to a more quiet level as to not spread the attention any further than needed.
Focusing on her words while trying to make sure the food didn't get cold also, he'd nod every so often and make a break to look at her if anything caught his interest.
"Ah, I probably can't ask what the lessons were like. Maybe it's better I don't." He was kinda curious as to what training there would have been at a station like this, but hey, maybe it was a secret. Better not press on those.
Turning back to his own portion of still steamy noodles, he'd be picking some up and turning them over to pull some more to the surface, maybe to cool down by some logic.
"It reminds me of some more exotic foods and restaurants at home, although I never quite visited any of them back there. They weren't native to where I was from, obviously, exotic and all, but it's rather interesting I'd think? To have something that originates from where you're from to be quite known all around? Right?" The universe was quite big afterall, especially now since they were, for god's sake, in space of all places.
Christofer, having gotten used to the more smalltalk like mood of the moment, didn't really waste more than a word of thought on her question or any deeper meanings behind it. It was just idle talk to him now. All very casual and obvious in a way.
"It's like... This, kinda medium, small... I'd say medium, mmmm, mostly blue, some green, some brown... All sorts of terrains and people. Climates, seasons..." Pausing every so often as he ate one small bite at a time, making sure to not speak while he had his mouth occupied for proper mannerism. "It's this nice calm place, habitable, rich... Mmmm.... Is this all very obvious? I'm sorry, I've not really ever described a planet to anyone." Head was lifted so he could look towards her for the time being, apologizing a little with the look he gave. He was feeling quite content, but he really wasn't sure on what she'd want to know. Like a rookie, he just went over whatever what obvious to him and that made him feel a little embarrassed. Hadn't he been taught somewhere that all habitable planets would most likely be like that, like what he described? Oh.... He wasn't all that good with this!
Gormaand- Tullh
Caru sat in the ship, enjoying himself as he hummed a tune to himself. He was basically part of the Stella's crew now, especially since the crew got a break and found a friendly Dimensional Lord for once. As he heard his name come up especially from the man who he was sticking to like glue Yascra. He gave a frown and poutty face as he looks at him "Why do you have to be soo mean, chrome dome?" as he teases him a little with his bald shiny head. He nods happily as the explanation was given to why he was with them as they land on the planet. He knew why he was with them, but not the real mission in why they disembark the Stella for.
The bubbly man just shrugged as they landed. He was the first one out and took a deep breath of that fresh Gormaand air and waited for the rest before walking towards the border town called Tullh. As he walked with the group to the obvious meeting hole being the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn. As he approached, he felt a familiar presence which made him stop as he looked around suspiciously. He felt the back of his mind telling him to go the back of the building. He splits off from the man group with a concern look on his face, more or less an investigative look. As he made his way into the rather wide alleyway, he see's a rather large snake, a rattle snake to be exact, coiled up, wearing a black desperado hat with bandoleers full of what seem to be fusion cells around him and a large rattle in the shape of a multi barrel laser Gatling. From the playing cards that are stuck between the laser Gatling rattle, the giant rattlesnake outlaw seemed to be playing the old game of Texas holdem with someone and as he shifted to the side, he gasped as he saw her.
A tanned obviously tanned woman, with stunning beauty with amber eyes of a femme fatale and deep long brown hair, wearing an obvious futuristic one piece steel outfit that left little the imagination of how her body is. Beside her is a blue power-fist with the words "Saturnite" right on the knuckles would be if there were defined and a very alien staff beside her. Caru knew who that woman was and her voice only confirmed it
"Oh Henry, you rattle your rattle gun too much telling me what you got, so I win once more" she says with her mistress like voice as she presents an royal flush. Henry the rattlesnake grumbled and with a thick Mexican accent he exclaims "La Sabelotodo! Damn you Señora Catherine Gunwick! This is the what? ¿décima vez?" Catherine laugh and says "I think it is the 12th time, Henry" as he eyes soon met Caru's wide deer in the headlights look.
Catherine chuckled and said "My, my, my, it has been a very long time Caru. How have you been?" Henry turns around and looks at the shocked male. He was an actual oversize rattlesnake with a typical bandito style black mustache that was on the upper lip of the snake. "Who is this gilipollas?" Henry asks as he looks at Caru with suspicion. The pink boy just blurts out "Your suppose to be dead!"
Catherine laughed hard as well as Henry and says "Well Caru, I am dead, I'm a ghost, Oooooooooooo" being obviously sarcastic to him. Henry chuckled answering to her "Well your secret is safe with me" Caru was still in shock. "Caru my pretty boy.." as she got up and walked towards him "I'll tell you all about my revival later, but let me introduce you to Henry the Rattler, Maria's old friend" as she greets Henry as the giant snake makes a nod as he tips his hat to Caru. "My name is Caru Llywellyn, a pleasure to meet you" as he bows slightly at him. Henry soon recognize the full name and says "Ahh yes, the pretty boy who spreads love and kindness eh?" Caru gives a much wider smile "Yup thats me"
"Who are your little friends?" Catherine asks as she see's the small poise of the Stella crew nearby. Before Caru could answer, Catherine took her staff and power fist and walked towards them and says "Greetings Caru's friends to Tullh, the friendliest town in the Westontinant. My name is Lord Catherine Gunwick and my giant friend here is Henry Fernandez or Henry the Rattler or his more common nickname Gunner Snake" as Henry slithers on by flicking his tongue at them and says "Pleasure to meet you, gringos" as he looks at them eyeing them to see if they were gonna be hostile. Of course if own did draw, he was quick and instantly fire a shot at whoever's feet and says "Don't pull out what you can't finish, amigo/a"
Caru sat in the ship, enjoying himself as he hummed a tune to himself. He was basically part of the Stella's crew now, especially since the crew got a break and found a friendly Dimensional Lord for once. As he heard his name come up especially from the man who he was sticking to like glue Yascra. He gave a frown and poutty face as he looks at him "Why do you have to be soo mean, chrome dome?" as he teases him a little with his bald shiny head. He nods happily as the explanation was given to why he was with them as they land on the planet. He knew why he was with them, but not the real mission in why they disembark the Stella for.
The bubbly man just shrugged as they landed. He was the first one out and took a deep breath of that fresh Gormaand air and waited for the rest before walking towards the border town called Tullh. As he walked with the group to the obvious meeting hole being the Wanderer’s Rest Bar and Inn. As he approached, he felt a familiar presence which made him stop as he looked around suspiciously. He felt the back of his mind telling him to go the back of the building. He splits off from the man group with a concern look on his face, more or less an investigative look. As he made his way into the rather wide alleyway, he see's a rather large snake, a rattle snake to be exact, coiled up, wearing a black desperado hat with bandoleers full of what seem to be fusion cells around him and a large rattle in the shape of a multi barrel laser Gatling. From the playing cards that are stuck between the laser Gatling rattle, the giant rattlesnake outlaw seemed to be playing the old game of Texas holdem with someone and as he shifted to the side, he gasped as he saw her.
A tanned obviously tanned woman, with stunning beauty with amber eyes of a femme fatale and deep long brown hair, wearing an obvious futuristic one piece steel outfit that left little the imagination of how her body is. Beside her is a blue power-fist with the words "Saturnite" right on the knuckles would be if there were defined and a very alien staff beside her. Caru knew who that woman was and her voice only confirmed it
"Oh Henry, you rattle your rattle gun too much telling me what you got, so I win once more" she says with her mistress like voice as she presents an royal flush. Henry the rattlesnake grumbled and with a thick Mexican accent he exclaims "La Sabelotodo! Damn you Señora Catherine Gunwick! This is the what? ¿décima vez?" Catherine laugh and says "I think it is the 12th time, Henry" as he eyes soon met Caru's wide deer in the headlights look.
Catherine chuckled and said "My, my, my, it has been a very long time Caru. How have you been?" Henry turns around and looks at the shocked male. He was an actual oversize rattlesnake with a typical bandito style black mustache that was on the upper lip of the snake. "Who is this gilipollas?" Henry asks as he looks at Caru with suspicion. The pink boy just blurts out "Your suppose to be dead!"
Catherine laughed hard as well as Henry and says "Well Caru, I am dead, I'm a ghost, Oooooooooooo" being obviously sarcastic to him. Henry chuckled answering to her "Well your secret is safe with me" Caru was still in shock. "Caru my pretty boy.." as she got up and walked towards him "I'll tell you all about my revival later, but let me introduce you to Henry the Rattler, Maria's old friend" as she greets Henry as the giant snake makes a nod as he tips his hat to Caru. "My name is Caru Llywellyn, a pleasure to meet you" as he bows slightly at him. Henry soon recognize the full name and says "Ahh yes, the pretty boy who spreads love and kindness eh?" Caru gives a much wider smile "Yup thats me"
"Who are your little friends?" Catherine asks as she see's the small poise of the Stella crew nearby. Before Caru could answer, Catherine took her staff and power fist and walked towards them and says "Greetings Caru's friends to Tullh, the friendliest town in the Westontinant. My name is Lord Catherine Gunwick and my giant friend here is Henry Fernandez or Henry the Rattler or his more common nickname Gunner Snake" as Henry slithers on by flicking his tongue at them and says "Pleasure to meet you, gringos" as he looks at them eyeing them to see if they were gonna be hostile. Of course if own did draw, he was quick and instantly fire a shot at whoever's feet and says "Don't pull out what you can't finish, amigo/a"
The alien was at a total loss to Ringo's sudden mood shift. They were even more confused by the human's apology. As far as they could tell, Ringo had done nothing wrong. They followed the cowboy into the bar, observing the place before sitting next to Ringo. The teal gelatin mass towered over the human and most other beings in the bar. "A spoon and sugar," Mutacogi requested. The bartender gave him a strange look before going to fill their orders. When he had left, Mutacogi turned to Ringo again. "You have no reason to be sorry," the alien answered. "You've offered me money and a ride in a ship. You've been more of a friend than everyone I've met since I got here. I don't think selling the box will be a problem. I can protect you until we do." Even though they didn't fully understand the entire situation, they understood Ringo felt bad. That was all they needed to know in order for the alien to try and reassure him. They even placed their large clawed hand on Ringo's back. It vibrated softly and let out a sound similar to a cat's purr. This was a way to comfort in Muta's species.
While Ringo was right about the whole ordeal having consequences for him and Mutacogi, he wasn't aware that Mutacogi was actually much more valuable than the box. Word of a reward for Muta was already spreading in the back streets of the planet. It wouldn't be long before the mob's search for them became more aggressive.
While Ringo was right about the whole ordeal having consequences for him and Mutacogi, he wasn't aware that Mutacogi was actually much more valuable than the box. Word of a reward for Muta was already spreading in the back streets of the planet. It wouldn't be long before the mob's search for them became more aggressive.
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