I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
I hope this is OK; I haven't written a story in a while, and I've never been good at that whole 'planning' lark .
Wars and Weddings (Part 1) Mrs. Bloodplunder
Spoiler
It started with a series of raids on the herds of horses belonging to the Great Tree Clan of humans by the Bloodplunder Band of orcs. These raids triggered reprisals by the humans, which caused orc reprisals, which fed the vicious circle further. However, the war weakened both sides, and left both being pushed further east by the borders of an expanding nation of gnomes, and an increased frequency of raids by bandits and slavers. After thirteen years of warfare, the Great Tree Clan-Chief sent a peace party to the Bloodplunder Band, carrying the carcass of an ox as a guest-offering. The orcs accepted, and listened to what the humans had to say. Their shaman had come to the same conclusion, and suggested an alliance sealed by marriage; as the Bloodplunder Chief was unmarried and had no heirs whereas the Great Tree Clan-Chief had several daughters, it was decided to marry the Clan-Chief's eldest daughter to the Bloodplunder Chief. A letter was sent immediately for the Great Tree Clan-Chief's second-oldest daughter, asking her to return from her adventures as soon as she can, explaining also the details of why. She accepted, and invited her party to come as guests.
So, six months later, the wedding took place, attended by humans, orcs, and a group of adventurers. Alondra was very excited for her sister Aldora; Alondra had fought orcs, and admired their strength. She was also jealous, slightly; the chief of the Bloodplunder Orcs was rather handsome, once you got past the tusks and deep orange skin. She had her friends with her, so they wouldn't miss the traditional orcish rites of acceptability. Not that they'd be interested beyond the point of being able to tell their children that they have watched a traditional orcish wedding. Alondra was wrong, as it turned out; Mycha the Mage was contemplating an academic paper on orc traditional practices and Xanthus Xalachar wished to observe traditional orc wrestling techniques, take notes and possibly test his own martial arts against them, to see which was better.
Before the wedding could actually start, the Bloodplunder Band had to determine whether or not Aldora was suitable to marry their chief. The traditional way of determining this is to dig a large pit and have the two orc females ranking highest in the woman's hierarchy fight the prospective bride until either the bride is unconscious/dead, and hence unworthy of the honour, or the last lady standing in which case she's proven her credentials. In this case, the bride has been agreed upon politically, though that merely means they wear leather padding so the traditional clubs are less likely to actually kill than when merely clad in their birthday suits. The pit was dug a few days before, and now Aldora is inside it, standing opposite two large female orcs, each with muscles large enough to impress a body builder and standing two heads taller than Aldora. Aldora has been in battle before, and knows what to do in this situation. The orcs, however, are experienced warriors, and have done this before- they know what the other will do before she does it and react accordingly.
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"Ignorance is... Carlisle." The Doctor, Doctor Who
Terrowin Avatar by HappyTurtle. Much thanks!
I have a point!
Always willing to run a dungeon for those who need somewhere to explore. Just PM me, and decide the character and location and I'll see what I can rummage up.
This is indeed quite dark. In a different way than other dark stories in here, more... down-to-earth darkness, with desperation, degradation and abuse. Nice to see someone tackle such unpleasant topics.
Why thank you kind sir. Though, I feel like I kind of rushed through those parts. Mostly cause this is the first time I'm really establishing her story before the part that's going to start now. Which is a part that I've had done for...well, a couple years, actually.
Hard part's gonna be deciding how detailed I get with it.
I also think I know who's stories I'm going to do next. Which will probably motivate me to play them again.
"You really expect me to believe that I'm suited for a military project? Really?"
It was late at night, and I was sitting on my bed, looking at the man on my couch. Clothes were scattered on the floor. He was a regular that paid a lot, so I gave in to his requests. Thankfully, he didn't have any really weird ones. Just that I should wear heels, fishnets, and a garter belt. He always showed up in a military uniform. I didn't really believe that he was a soldier. Probably stole the uniform.
"That's right, sweetie. The Rembress facility is heading up something new that's bound to make an impact. They need volunteers, and I think you'd be a perfect candidate."
I gave a short laugh and shook my head a little. "Yeah. Somehow, I don't think an eighteen year old prostitute is exactly military material."
He smirked a little. "You'd be surprised..." Before I could question that comment, he pulled a card from his jacket on the floor, walked over, and handed it to me. "That's where the sign-up is. Stop by tomorrow. See for yourself."
I took the card and looked at it. I recognized the place on it. It was near city hall.
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Fine."
He grinned. "Good.
How about another quickie before I take off?"
I rolled my eyes. "Jase...you know you only paid for one."
He waved his hand. "Bah, I'll pay Slate again on the way out. After I leave your tip." He winked.
That was another reason I put up with him. He was a good tipper.
-----------
The next morning, I was on the tram, headed towards downtown. Slate didn't have any customers in the morning, and he'd give the girls one day a week off. Usually. So, I decided to spend mine seeing if what Jase was talking about was legit. The place was public enough that I didn't think this would be any kind of bad setup.
Once at the right station, I got off the tram and walked down the steps to street level. I took a moment to get my bearings, then headed for the building in question.
The building was three stories and made of granite. It looked older than most of the city. Might have even been here before the Rebirth. It served as a library and recruitment office. I think. To tell the truth, this was the only time I was ever in the building.
Anyways, I went up the steps and walked inside. I walked to the round service desk near the entrance. The woman there gave me the warm, I'm-here-to-help smile. "Hi, how can I help you?"
"Um, I was told that the military was looking to recruit people for some new project? I was given this card." I put the card on the desk between us and slid it to her. She picked it up to look at it. It took a moment longer than it should have to get whatever she was looking for from the card. That started the alarm in my head, but I ignored it. I was too excited about the possibility of not having to work for Slate anymore. A military gig would definitely get me out of there.
Finally, she gave a short nod and stood up. "If you would follow me, please." She started walking towards the back of the big hall. I followed. We went through a few sets of doors, before finally coming to an elevator. She led me in, and pushed an unlabeled button. Which I found odd. Then the elevator, instead of going up like I thought it would, went down. Also odd. The doors opened, and she led me through another long hall. This one wasn't as nice looking as the one above.
The doors at the end opened to what looked sort of like a gymnasium. Several screens had been placed around exam tables, along with lights. Some were closed, though I could see people's feet below the curtains. She lead me to an open table, told me to take a seat and wait, and closed the screen.
I assumed this was a physical examination for applicants. I mean, the military had to have healthy people, right? As I waited, I looked myself over. I wasn't exactly built, but I was in okay shape. I didn't have any health issues that I knew of. So, I had that going, at least. I didn't spend much time doing any kind of physical activity besides what earned my pay, but I was confident I could hold my own in whatever routine they used.
After about ten minutes, the curtain opened again and a man came in wearing the white coat of a doctor. He had a clipboard and pen in hand.
"Name?" His question was short. I got the feeling this was routine by now, and he really didn't care who he was asking these questions to.
"Zel Movado."
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
"Base?"
"Kinetic."
He nodded, then put down the pen and clipboard next to me. "Alright, shirt off." I complied, and he started the normal routine of a physical. After that, he told me to wait again as he left. I put my shirt back on and waited, wondering if there was anything that would stop me from getting in.
A few more minutes, and he came back. "Alright, Zel, looks like you're good to go. Exit the door in the back, that'll take you to a platform. Get on the tram. It'll take you to where the project is being run."
I nodded, feeling a little excited now. I was joining the military. I didn't have to sell myself anymore, or put up with Slate. Things were starting to look up for me.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
The tram seemed a lot nicer than the public one I took to get here. Either it was newer, or military equipment was more important than civilian equipment. Probably the second.
I got on and took a seat, looking around. There wasn't a lot of people on the tram. Nobody I recognized. I mean, I didn't expect to see anybody I knew. But, it would have been nice.
The ride lasted almost an hour. We were headed to the other side of the city. Rembress was a massive city with fortress-like qualities. It's eastern edge was on the ocean, and huge walls surrounded the other sides. It was the largest city on the Mainland, and the center of the world government. I had a large manufacturing district, which mostly made military stuff.
Finally, the tram came to a stop. The voice over the intercom instructed everybody to file into lines on the platform based on each person's Base. There weren't many people in my line. Kinetic, Life, Time, and Light were the least common of the ten Bases. The Fire and Water lines were huge.
We waited for a few more minutes before the doors opposite the tram opened, and we were allowed inside. Each door was its own hall, without an doors along the way. The ceiling was over twenty feet above us, while the walls were close enough that two people would be uncomfortable standing side-by-side. The Kinetic line kept moving forward, everybody growing a little more nervous as we went. The door behind us shut, which didn't help our nerves.
The door at the end of the hall led to a brightly lit room covered in white tile. There were more exam tables. Without any curtains this time. The couple of doctors here had hard looks about them. And there were several armed soldiers in the room, guarding the doors.
The head doctor shut the door behind us. "Alright, everybody on a table. Now." The five of us hesitated. A tall man with a shaved head spoke up. "What's going on? What are we doing here?"
We all heard the click as the closest soldier raised his gun and aimed it at the man's head. The doctor sneered. "As short on Kinetics as we may be, I will make sacrifices to get you to listen. Now everybody...get on a table!"
As I hurried to one, I found myself wondering what the hell I got myself into.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
The day had been fairly slow with just 384 Emergency Calls on the Oh-Dear-God-Help-Me!!! Hotline, with only 139 as pranks and an additional 74 that no actual response was needed. Communications Officer Innari gave a silent nod of thanks to the medical technician that had switched out her caffeine drip, idly wondering what that one girl (Alice, wasn't it?) was doing now. The one who hadn't believed her about the drip.
The Twi'lek closes her eyes for just a couple moments, giving a pleasant sigh as the drug took affect, energizing her for her 40th hour on shift.
Ah...bliss.
At least, until a tell-tale pinging rang in her ear, warning her of yet another call. With a sigh, she answers it.
As she answers, the other officers in the Comm-Center begin receiving a new wave of calls within moments of one another. Several people begin looking at each other as they begin hearing similar things. Innari, still talking to the person on the other end, notices and draws up a map of Inside on the large display that covers a wall of the room. The officers know what to do and begin plotting the origins of their calls. Dozens upon dozens centered within a block radius of Lots of Hope Hospital. If her skin color had let her, Innari would have gone pale. "-ir, we have confirmation of something happening at the Hospital. Everything is going to be okay once we get it under con-"
"I can hear Them!! Oh sweet Terra, get them out of my head!" Ambulance Driver Cantal shouts through his phone before letting go of the other end, collapsing into tear-filled agony. Comm Officer Innari switches lines as she dots her caller on the map, seeing the source about a mile away from Lots of Hope, Cirrus Street. "Patch me through to Samuel Gale. We have an outbreak of some magnitude and prepare a recon force aside from two assault teams."
Cantal's Apartment - Cirrus Street
Melissa awoke at her father's scream, clutching her Teddy Zee close to her chest. She knows she ought to stay in bed, lock the door to her room and just be safe, but she had to go and make sure Daddy was okay.
Climbing out of bed, Teddy Zee in her hands, the four year old slips out of her room quietly before making her way to the living room. On the floor, her father laid still. With a gasp, she drops her toy and patters over to him, grabbing his shoulder with her small hands and tries to shake him awake. "Poppa! Poppa!"
Slowly, he gives a groan and rolls over, giving her a slight smile before opening his now red eyes. "Poppa!" Melissa says with a smile before throwing her arms around his neck and crying, scared and unable to know what had happened, but happy he's okay now. "It's okay dear, it'll all be okay soon..." He whispers to her ear before taking in a deep breath and releasing a small cloud of red smoke from his lungs....
Remnant - Bugs' Place
Looking at a picture of his once-living daughter, Samuel "Bugs" Gale gives a sigh. I'm sorry, Rebecca. I'm sorry I'm being selfish about all of this and...and...
The doctor can't go on thinking about it and just sets the picture frame aside before setting his face in his hands, sobbing. He cries for several long minutes before wiping his tears away. "Get a hold of yourself, Bugs. You've made your choice, live with it." With that, he sighs and pops back his nightly dose of Anthracycline before laying down on his bed, wishing that his long-dead wife was here as well as his daughter.
With that final thought, he closes his eyes and begins to try to sleep, only to have his relaxation cut off by his phone ringing. Grumbling, the doctor grabs the phone and answers it. "Doctor Gale here. This better be damned important."
"Doc, it's Innari. I know you just got off, but this is important, sir. Looks like we have a Class 3 Outbreak."
At the words, Bugs sits right up, wide awake once more. Ignoring the constant aches of his muscles and joints, his mind begins to race. "Wh-"
"Started at Lots of Hope as best as we can tell. That's where the calls are situated. We received 97 in a matter of minutes containing reports of Battery, Murder, and Sudden Illness, but as of 40 seconds ago, we have lost all contact with the staff at the hospital. Witness accounts are sketchy, but it seems that something is controlling people and is spreading like wild-fire."
The doctor takes this all in with a series of colorful curses. "Alright, I'm on my way. Is my team ready?"
"Aye, sir. We doubled your usual Honour-guard and we have strike teams already in place to establish Quarantine. Your kit is ready as well."
"On my way." Samuel tells Innari before shutting off the phone and getting dressed.
Lots of Hope - ER
Wake up.
Wake up, Cutter. Wake up or Die.
The words ring clearly in the doctor's pounding head and his eyes snap open just in time to see a pair of clawed hands reaching for his neck. Without thinking, he slips down with fevered speed, analyzing the scene before him. Geney was killed and an infected pair of half-orc orderlies stood above him, eyes of red and crystals poking from the flesh of their shoulders.
Reaching deep inside himself, he grips a blade of bone and rust. It slips from his wrist as he slides on the floor, and with a strength and agility that belies his form, he flips to his feet before spinning around. Paulo, the first of the two orderlies finds himself disembowled and looks dumbly down at his gut before falling over, a sickened pallor spreading throughout his skin and waging combat with whatever is infesting his body. Cutter can sense the diseases battling in a spot in the back of his mind, but ignores it for now, choosing to concentrate on Raul, Paulo's brother.
The half-orc looks surprised and raises his hands with a growl. "We don't mean you harm, fleshling. Join us and thrive in the Bliss of the Unity."
Strike him down and make him your servant. A deep, bubbling voice in his head tells him.
With a growl, Cutter lunges forward inhumanly fast and slices off Raul's hands and head before the half-orc can attack.
"You can go to hell." He tells Raul. "You too, Nurgle." He mutters to the voice in his head. The bubbling voice vanishes for now, and the doctor allows the sword to slide back in his hand. Looking at Paulo's body, he sees the sickened pallor is gone, killed off by whatever that red crystal was, and frowns. With a flick of his wrist, he draws a scalpel from his sleeve and begins twirling it in his hand.
It was time to get out of here.
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Wolfy Tango by the talented Kid Kris
Starting August 4th, I will be without internet for possibly a very long time. Please PM me if there are any questions for me, but do not expect an answer for weeks at a time. Thank you for your patience.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. It's utterly cliche, but for me, it's true.
Green Meadows, the town I grew up in, named for the name of the greenfields it's right next to. One of the only places this far North you could get viable farmland- the rest is just ice fields. A small town... but it's been a good home for me the past fifteen years.
My parents, laughing over a joke Dad made. He's a guardsman. Been teaching me how to use a sword. And when we found out raiders were coming... he didn't want me to come, but we needed everyone who could fight to protect the ones that couldn't.
My friends. Us playing around with sticks-
The spear shifts in my gut, interrupting my chain of thought because it hurts. I vaguely wonder why it hasn't been taken out yet...
I'm dying. I know it. And... I don't want to. Please... someone...
Are you afraid, child?
Yes.
If I could save you, would you do anything for me?
...yes.
Even kill the world, if it was commanded by me?
He... just must be checking. He wouldn't really do that.
Yes.
Then, child... arise.
...pain.
----
The battlefield was deserted, the bodies of the defenders lying where they had been slain. In the end, their fight had been in vain, the village they had fought to protect burning in the cold night.
Suddenly, a wave of necrotic Essence sprang up around one of the corpses, a fifteen year old girl screaming as her hair turned white... and a black sunburst appeared on her forehead, bleeding. "Haaah..."
She grabbed the spear sticking out of her gut, pulling it out and throwing it away, the wound healing as if it had never happened in the first place.
Iliya looked around, desperately looking for survivors, even as the landscape around her subtly shifted, her Exaltation the last straw pushing the area of the massacre into a shadowland. "No... dad? Dad!"
...not completely happy with this, to be honest. May not have gotten across the circumstances of her Exaltation across properly... anyway. Review, please.
In case it isn't obvious- the character in question does not go by either name mentioned at the start anymore.
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Spoiler
Quote:
Originally Posted by Revlid
And so it was that Zaeed, Aang, Winry, Ezio, Sadoko and Snow White all set out on their epic journey to destroy The Empire.
Alright let's try and blow through some of these first.
Boris: A good fight scene and an interesting look into his brain
Billie: I had actually been interested in. This character when she first showed up. To see how she came about is a treat. That and I really like Gus and Jake, so this is almost a backstory for them too.
Tito: He's been through a whole lot. I doubt he'll ever go back to the child wonder stage, but I hope he gains little confidence and trust in the world back.
Salixtra: A villainess in love. And with someone who's already kind of evil, so there's none of that seduce her good nonsense. I like how the try to make a real relationship when something could easily be forced.
Alan miller: a zombie apocalypse survivor, going through a "become what I hate" phase.
Harnel: Harnel is a cool dude. I would like to read more.
Dalton: y'know that character from zombie apocalypse movies that goes Coo-coo. That's this done really really well.
Missy: Some relation here, because I've personally gone through a bit of faith questioning myself. Following with interest.
Vriveka: Nasty little fae. Hilarious nasty little Fae
Hutznim: Looking forward to some more of this guy.
More later, but for now art two of Alfred/Agneau
Faerie had a Little Lamb
Spoiler
"Réveillez-vous, mon petit Agneau," the faerie singsonged to her baby. "It would be such a shame to waste such a special day away sleeping."*
The baby stirred in his bed. He gave a perfectly satisfied yawn as he sat up. "Special day?" the baby, physically a ten year old, asked, attempting to smooth out his long blond hair. "Why is today special, Mčre?"
"My golden child, have you forgotten? Today is your third birthday, dear. It was three years ago today that I first laid eyes upon you."
"Really?! What will we be doing today, Mčre?" the boy asked, excited for the day ahead.
"That would be a surprise, mon petit Agneau," she said as she wrapped her thin arms around the boy. The fair-mother gave him a loving kiss on the forehead before continuing, "but first let's make you presentable, love." The boy rose from his bed to the other side of the forest hut where his stool waited for him. Sitting down, he pulled all of the hair behind his shoulders so his fair mum could reach it. Sitting in a chair behind him, she pulled a brush from nowhere in particular and began to brush his hair.
This was their ritual. Every morning she would brush his hair, slowly and tenderly. With each brush stroke the hair would polish and sheen. After a time, normally a little more than a week or so, it would reach a state of perfection, where it flowed as smooth as water and shown like sunlight, and using crystal scissors she would cut it off. Then she, with a touch of her finger, would age him months forward to begin the process over again.
His hair was reaching that peak of sheen, and she would have to cut it soon.
"There! All done," she says standing up. Agneau followed her example.
"How do I look, Mčre?" he asks.
"Absolutely wonderful, mon petit Agneau. Now come along. Your aunt will be so dissapointed if we are late."
The boytook his fair-mother's hand and left the hut with her.
"I love you, Mčre." he says as they set out to the wood.
"Your Mčre loves you too, my little lamb."
Edit: Now with more Sevet
What Fire Tastes Like
Spoiler
I had been working for my master for a few years now. I learned rather quickly on that the numbering was entirely pointless if he has no real way to tell us apart. When gathered together, he would only point and if he reffered to us as anything but You, he would call us by whatever we were carrying at the time.*
"You with the mop, front and center!"
"The one with the box, follow me!"
We, us skeletons that is, made a great deal of use out of the number system. It took us a little bit, but we eventually worked out what each other looked like. We used he little scratches, dips, and grooves in each others skulls, and our general heights to tell one another apart.
We generally stuck to the others within our niches. Myself, seventeen, through twenty, who to his annoyance we dubbed team leader, were the sanitation team. It was expected of us to clean the entire fortress every day. His plan was that since there were only four of us we would be working ceaselessly, and thus the fortress would always be clean. Since we were tireless, this wasn't a terrible plan, but he neglected to realize that in making us intelligent he also gave us the capacity for boredom and laziness.
Trying to get out of work, we learned the exact minimum of what we needed to do. Seemed he only used a few specific rooms and hallways at all. So long as we eavesdropped for the rare occaision he would use another room, we could just clean in front of him once in a while and be done with it.
During a cleaning, I passed a mop over the floor to one of the master's secondary labs. He was doing some, I dunno, alchemy? There were beakers, if that helps at all. Anyway, I'm passing a mop when things start to get funny over at his worktable. Oddly colored smoke flew from the table, my master waving his hand and coughing gruesomely. A fire had set on the table and my master's sleeve had caught flame. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my mop bucket a dumped the water on him soaking half of his robes but putting out the flame.
I tried to pull him back from the table, but with a throat that sound like it was full of gravel he screamed, "Don't touch me, scum!" Grabbing a busted beaker from the table he swung at my head. It hit, and although I couldn't feel it, I could hear a faint sizzling on my forehead. My master spat blood onto the floor and told me to clean up as he left.*
I wiped my face with my robes and a bit of the sizzle reacted with it. I was going to get some water to put out the fires, but they died down on their own in a few seconds. The warmth quickly dieing.
...
Time out! Warmth? I could swear I felt it, for just a second, and something else too. My mind registered it as... Spice? That fire was spicy for some reason, I'm sure of it. I ran out into the hallway were I knew a vein of magma flowed in a wall. The veins were held in place by magic, and they only burned what went in, matter of fact it's pretty fun to chuck stuff into, but I didn't know if they let off any heat. This would be novel to say the least. I stuck my hand out and I could feel it. The heat was there, but it felt less powerful than the fire, and there was no spice. This "tasted" thick, sticky, syrupy was the word my mind threw at me. I decide to test it further, rolling up my sleeve, I stick my hand in and Wow! That was amazing! The heat was way more intense!
Pulling out my hand, a small problem made itself incredibly evident. The magma on my hand quickly cooled to rock."Well damn." I said, carefully beating my hand against a stone wall as I ran. The others just had to get a load of this.
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Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Now that I've gone through the backlog of stories, time for my own:
You missed a pair. BR's and mine got stuck at the bottom of the last page.
MEANWHILE, I'll review some of the backlog once I get time, and then probably post the first part of the Kal backstory. Probably.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
Hm. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure how I feel about their personalities being already exactly like they are now way back then... it might be more interesting to see them develop over time.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Kid Kris
Yes... er... this. Because Kris needed a new character.
Kal/Lanthil backstory coming soon in this thread, I promise!
Silly, yet gruesome and morbidly absurd. Makes me kinda curious as to this character's futher fate.
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My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Billie was sitting on the other side of a reinforced glass barrier from her son. Gus had asked for this, rather than being in the same room with her for two reasons. The first was that it allowed her to be uncuffed.
"Billie, Jake and I have been taking turns for over a year."
"She isn't like Jake. She hates me."
"So? You hate her. Maybe you should, Idunno, get the **** over it."
Billie answered with fluent swearing.
Gus shoved his fingers through his hair.
"Billie... Mom... you have to learn to live with her. I know you thought you were going to get a potion made to kill her and to kill Jake, but that's not happening. I won't let you do it."
"They're stealing our lives! We have a right to self defense."
Gus shook his head. "It isn't that simple. It isn't ... we aren't separate. They're part of us. We're part of them."
"Well I still hate her. And I'm not letting her take over. I won't do it."
Gus didn't answer. He just shook his head and scrawled a few words in the notebook in his bad handwriting.
"Goodbye, Mom," he said.
A moment later, it was Jake sitting in that chair. He looked at Billie, then down at the notebook, and winced.
"What's going on? Give me back my son, you... you life-thief!" she hissed.
"Good afternoon, Miss Acre," Jake said with his customary politeness. Billie had never given herself a surname, so Jake used Gus's. "I'm Jacob Stevenson, and your son asked me to give you a message."
He held the notebook up to the window. "I won't see you again till you do it. Jake will be the one to talk to you from now on. After Elaine has had her say, we'll talk again."
The other reason Gus had asked for the barrier was because he'd expected to have to use emotional blackmail.
"You did this to him! You're trying to take my son from me!"
After she threw herself against the glass, she was tranquillized and returned to her cell.
Jake slumped down, resting his head in his hands. It was hard to imagine that his own beautiful, elegant mother was a prisoner inside a mad woman.
It only took a day for me to decide that I was terrible at making decisions.
The first few days were spent going through rigorous exercises, both physical and mental. They wanted to see what everybody could do, and get rid of the ones that weren't good enough. I never found out what happened to the people removed then, and I still don't think I want to know.
I made the cut. I didn't think I would, but I did. The ones they kept were locked into individual cells. Ones that were built to withstand all forms of Base abilities. Luckily, we were still able to talk to each other. That helped keep us mostly sane throughout this.
I was one of two Kinetics that made the cut. The other was a middle-aged guy, slightly balding. His name was Jac. We bonded a little, mostly cause we were the only Kinetics.
The living conditions weren't terrible. Sure, we were locked in cells. But, they had decent beds. We were fed regularly. Didn't have to worry about getting raped by your cellmate in your sleep, since you didn't have a cellmate.
No, it wasn't the cells that made this terrible. It was why we were there.
In my world, Wen Rahte, every single person has abilities tied to one of ten Bases. Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, Lightning, Kinetic, Light, Dark, Time, or Life. A person's family history mostly determined what Base they would be, but even that wasn't set in stone. A Lightning Base could be born to a family of Fire Bases.
Now, with Rembress being the largest city, they also had some of the most power hungry people. Who happened to be in charge. They ruled through the military. And somehow, they got the idea in there heads to try and see how they could mess with the Bases. To make their military stronger.
And I had accidentally signed up as a test subject. A lab rat, if you will.
The early stages were mostly them pushing me to my limits. Seeing how long I could hold objects. How fast I could move them. How far I could throw them. How much I could lift. How well I could stop objects being thrown at me. At the end of every day, I would shuffle into my cell and collapse on my bed, not even bothering to change out of the rags we had to wear.
After about a month, they started giving some of us more private sessions. I think they wanted to make us feel more special. Or make us suspicious. People felt both. The first sessions I had were spent determining what kinds of weapons I was good with. How well I could fight. They must have seen something in me, because not many of us were given weapons that early.
Now, I had never used anything more than a knife or a steel pipe in a fight before. So, most of the stuff, I kind of sucked with. However...for some reason, when I grabbed the bladed ring they had...it felt right. I hadn't really trained my abilities much yet, so I couldn't use them with it. But, I knew that was the one for me.
A few more months went by, and I was in a kind of routine. They kept us in the same activities, just increasing the difficulty of them. A few more people were removed, but not many.
Then came the second phase of this project.
They selected a total of ten of us. Me, a couple Winds, a Shadow, a Life, two Fires, two Waters, and an Earth. They brought us to a lower level of the complex, which I didn't know existed. It was smaller, and darker.
I remember noticing things about the people with me on the way there. The Earth guy leaned against whatever wall was present when we weren't walking. The Shadow guy's arms and face were covered in tattoos; all the same style of black lines, intertwining each other. The Life girl (She looked younger than even me) clung to the Shadow's arm. One of the Waters, a woman with close cropped hair, had a half-dazed look on her face. The Winds both looked like they were ready for whatever challenge came up. The other Water was a tall, lanky guy that looked like a strong breeze would knock him over. The Fires were opposites. One was a huge hulk of a man, with a shiny head and a stern look on his face. The other was a smaller woman with really long hair, looking kind of scared at all this.
They led us into cells again, keeping us separated again. The Life girl looked nervous at this, but the Shadow guy reassured her. Course, he didn't look too convinced of his own words. We had to wait till the next day to see what new things awaited us.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
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This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
Hm. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure how I feel about their personalities being already exactly like they are now way back then... it might be more interesting to see them develop over time.
Hmmm, well we'll see what I can do when part III and such roll around...
*mugs the muse*
Morning came with the sounds of yelling and doors being slammed. I snapped my eyes open and moved, rolling to the floor on my hands and knees. I sprang up and turned to my door, expecting somebody to come in. They didn't. Curious, I stepped towards the door to look through the little window.
Across from me was the female Water Base. The one who looked like she was stoned or something. The guard was yelling at her and taking her out of her room. I found myself wondering why.
Didn't have long to wait. I was next.
The same guard slammed my door open and pulled me out, forcing me down the hall. We went through a side door into a room with little light. There was a low table, a chair near it, and some kind of contraption near the chair. The table had straps on it, which set off alarms in my head. I tried to stop walking, but the guard forced me forward. He basically threw me face-first onto the table. I hit the table hard, which dazed me and made my nose bleed. As I tried to get my bearings again, he started tying me down with the straps.
"Geez, did you have to throw her like that?" This was a new voice. Must have been waiting in the room. The straps held my head down, so I couldn't look for the source.
"She's fine. Nose'll stop bleeding. Quit your complaining." The guard tightened the last strap, then took a strap of leather, shoved it in my mouth, and tied another strap around my head so I couldn't spit it out. "Just hurry up and get the IDs done so we can bring in the next one.
IDs? What was he talking about? I was confused and scared by now, not having any idea what was going on.
I felt the touch of steel traveling up my spine. At first, I couldn't tell what it was. But, the slicing noises and loosening of my shirt told me it was scissors. Then I felt a cold pad being rubbed hard on the back of my right shoulder, right on the blade. Probably alcohol or iodine. The machine was flicked on, and nothing happened for a moment. I was starting to hyperventilate from pure fear.
Then something pressed onto my shoulder, and all I knew was pain. Pure, uncontrolled, uncaring pain. I screamed, though the straps in and around my mouth muted that quite a bit.
The pain dimmed for a moment. Course, that was like saying twenty stadium lights ten feet away from you were dimmer than the sun. Technically true, but when your blinded by them, you really don't give a crap.
I was sweating and hyperventilating. My shoulder felt like it was literally on fire. Probably was, given the stench of burning flesh that was starting to invade my nostrils.
But...they weren't done. Without any warning, the pain returned. Felt even worse the second time, given how sore that area was. Whatever they did, they did it a total of five times. When they were done, I was barely conscious. The pain was worse than any I have ever had to deal with before.
I barely registered the straps being loosened. The guard dragged me to my feet. I might have tried to catch what was left of my shirt as it fell, but I was too busy trying not to pass out. Oh, sure, it would've been easy to pass out. But during all the pain, I made a decision. A promise. I was going to suck it up and get through it. I was going to take whatever these bastards were handing out, and I'd get through it.
I was half-dragged across the room, then shoved through the door. I landed on my hands and knees, my shoulder almost giving out from the pain. The door was shut behind me, and I heard the click of it being locked. I stayed like that for minutes, just concentrating on breathing and staying awake. I wasn't going to pass out. I wouldn't.
I heard footsteps approaching. Slowly, I turned my head to see a pair of men in white lab coats approaching. They both wore rubber gloves, and one wheeled a cart along. When they reached me, the first one had me lay on my face again. He grabbed a bottle and some cotton balls from the cart, then started cleaning my new wounds. It stung. Almost as much pain as getting them.
When he was done, he dragged me to my feet again and walked me down the hall, into another room. This room had a couple of pads on the floor. I assume they were meant as beds, because the woman that was taken earlier was lying on one, curled up on her side. Tears streaked her face, but she wasn't crying anymore. She found the sweet release of sleep.
The man shoved me in and locked the door behind me. I stood there for a moment, wondering what was in store next. Then I slowly sat down behind the woman, my sore shoulder still inhibiting my movements. I looked at her bare back for a moment before I noticed her right shoulder. My heart almost leaped up my throat when I saw what was there.
Branded. We had both been branded. That was why I smelled my own burnt flesh. And judging from her marked, I guessed what mine was. Hers was the symbol for the Water Base. Similar to a backwards "7". Under that was a four digit number. Probably what they meant by "ID". Based on that, I probably had my own number, as well as the symbol for Kinetic. Like a "Z", but with the top and bottomed curved to make it almost an oval.
I laid down on my left side, still staring at the woman's back. I had no idea what laid ahead, but I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant at all.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
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This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
"And stay out, you damnable Harlot!" Shouted the owner of The Faucet of Wellness, a little hole-in-the-pipe "pub" stuck in the UnderHive. The small woman he literally tossed out didn't even hit the ground before door slams and the roar of laughter at her plight resounds through the thin sheet-metal walls. Too weak to even shout back, the frail form just lays there and sniffles, trying not to sob as the crowd walks around her. She doesn't even have the strength to fend off a thief that rifles through her clothing, taking not only her (admittedly pitiful) money, but an opportunistic grab as well before moving on.
She whimpers in self-pity before finally turning her head sideways to try and look around. Her pale cream skin was blotched with bruises and other discolorations, and her raven hair was roughly cut to less than shoulder length, likely by her own hand. Overall, she couldn't really be described as pretty. Her features were slightly uneven and comely overall. The woman's cheeks are sunken in slightly, as if she hadn't eaten much at all for several weeks, and her forehead felt like it was on a grox-steak being overcooked from Thrill-Pill withdrawal.
At the very thought of food, her stomach growled and ached, making her moan and curl up in a ball. Please...God-Emperor on Terra, deliver me from this. If I matter at all, I beg you....just give me something. Anything. she prays.
In answer, the UnderHive's Caustic Rain alarm goes off, making the "streets" clear out, leaving the wretched person alone to suffer through the polluted rain forming in clouds high above her head. That is enough to finally cause her to break into sobs as the first drops fall, sizzling on her skin and causing even more blemishes to break out. "Shhhh...it'll be okay." A young woman's voice tells her in a whisper as she feels a small blanket cover her body from the "Rain".
Jezebel is too weak to object when the newcomer drags her several dozen feet into a covered alleyway and can't help but lay in the woman's arms for quite a long time. Only when she's offered water does she have the strength to look up at her savior.
A young woman, barely an adult, smiles down upon her. Her long black hair flows past her shoulders and only helps to show off her beautiful features. "We'll rest here a bit. Just till you've gathered your strength. Then I'll take you back to my gang. Don't worry, you'll be safe. We're just a bunch of Joygirls and the like."
"Did...did He send you?" Jezebel asks weakly, resting in her comfortable embrace.
The younger woman gives a chuckle before offering a small shake of her head. "No. Not the Emperor. Someone...else. But don't fret about it now, we'll have a long time to talk about it later. Promise."
Maria's promise falls on deaf ears. Jezebel, feeling safe for the first time since the start of her "tutelage" in the Underhive, had fallen asleep.
This probably seems a bit out of place and doesn't make much sense for anyone who doesn't know the PC well, but if you do, I figure this would provide some answers and insight.
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Wolfy Tango by the talented Kid Kris
Starting August 4th, I will be without internet for possibly a very long time. Please PM me if there are any questions for me, but do not expect an answer for weeks at a time. Thank you for your patience.
@ Rise of the Prophet - Reminds me of all the historical war movies about oppressed people uprisings. What happened to part 2 of your story? I remember reading it.
@ Shrike and Dani - What's a weaver? I kept wanting to know more about the mother and the history rather than the girls. And why is Shrike zapping things if witchcraft is so taboo?
@ Once upon a time / Faerie had a little lamb - I always like seeing classic fae, and the French gives it a nice touch.
@ Zel - Darker indeed. Why did her client recruit her? What did he see in her that he thought made her good fodder for their program?
@ Lellienth - Scars, part 1 - Why were both Lellienth and her opponent reluctant to kill?
@ Roy Isaacs - Kris, you are a brilliant writer, and I wish you would get done with school and write full time and publish novels that I could pay real life money for and read.
@ Mrs Bloodplunder - Is awesome. I never get tired of reading about her!
@ Failing Life - Outbreak part 2 - I love the way the different scenes wove together in the whole. More please!
@ Life and Death - I've seen Rose's backstory before, but I didn't know she started with a different name.
@ Sevet - I love it.
@ Jezebel - Poor Maria I know Jezebel is evil and all, but I'm glad she found love in both her incarnations.
They knew each other. Though, since you were confused about it, I can try to make that clearer when I rework what her opponent says?
Edit:
Also, the person she was fighting was less reluctant to kill than Lellienth was - remember, the attack she dodges at the start would have gutted her if she hadn't.
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Plague Rat in the Playground
Quote:
Originally Posted by Grim ranger
I support the godly magazine idea, and hope that Eld can serve as mix of town crier and incredibly deadpan game show host in some sections. Also, for some odd reason, he will also make appearance when it comes to godly fashion tips, for even if he is grim reaper he will be the most bishounen god there is. Just you wait
Quote:
Originally Posted by Moonwolf
Damn you and your comprehensive understanding of synergistic tactics. :|
@ Zel - Darker indeed. Why did her client recruit her? What did he see in her that he thought made her good fodder for their program?
She was picked for the "final draft" for a few different reasons. Partly because she seemed to catch on to the physical parts pretty quick. Partly because she didn't give up easy. And partly because there weren't many Kinetics to begin with. And they wanted a Kinetic.
Now, if you mean the guy that told her about the whole thing in the first place...pretty much, he was under orders to tell anybody he could about it. So, he figured, might as well inform my weekly hooker.
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Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
“You tortured that poor man?” Oakley was more than a little surprised that Merrick would so readily admit that. He had expected a little remorse, or at least hesitancy.
“Incorrect. I interrogated a prisoner,” Merrick said, still as unmoving as ever.
“You interrogated him using methods that were banned more than a century ago.”
Merrick snorted in response. “The Third Geneva Convention? Worthless in the field. There is only the objective and the method to achieving it.”
“That doesn't excuse your actions, Mr. Hayes.”
“Perhaps not,” Merrick said, “but I got the information that we needed.” He paused for a moment, then added, “May I continue now?”
“Yes, go right ahead.”
The helicopter landed onto the compound where the Pakistanis were, and the SAS team got ready to get off. “Remember, Hayes, these orcs are going to be paranoid. They might have a psychic of their own with them, so watch it with the mind-reading,” the pilot said, before giving the standard briefing to the rest of the team.
“Of course, sir.” Merrick said, lying through his teeth. In reality, he couldn't control his mind-reading. It was the only part of his abilities that he hadn't yet learned to control. He wished he had, though. It was hard to sleep when you were seeing everyone's dreams.
“Can you sleep here, Mr. Hayes?”
“Yes, now that my abilities are blocked. Do not interrupt me again, Doctor.”
“O- of course. My apologies.”
The orc prisoner was the first to disembark the helicopter – rather, Merrick shoved him off. The orc quickly got up, in order to get as far away from the masked man as possible. Merrick walked off the ramp, followed by the rest of the SAS team. The scene they were treated to was a small group of other orcs, all larger than their prisoner, in urban clothing and carrying assault rifles. With them was one human, tied up and dressed in a similar uniform to Merrick's. This was MacGregor, a Royal Air Force pilot, and the reason this prisoner exchange was happening in the first place.
The unnamed orc immediately tried to rush to his comrades, but Merrick was too quick for that, and grabbed him by the neck and threw him back to the ground. Behave yourself, and perhaps you can see your friends again, he sent.
The other orcs reated to this action with haste and hostility. Most of them shouted in Urdu and pointed their rifles at Merrick, while two of them threatened MacGregor with a gun to his head while shouting at Merrick. In response, Merrick prepared his psi-energy, while MacGregor just looked on. It was clear that the RAF soldier had already been beaten beyond resistance, just like the Pakistani prisoner.
Coutts quickly stepped forward, and started to speak to the Pakistanis. Merrick couldn't understand Urdu, but his mind-reading allowed him to get the gist of it. Coutts was assuring the orc leader that their prisoner was unharmed, while the leader was demanding some other form of compensation in return for MacGregor's release.
It took some time, and Merrick grew impatient enough to ignore most of the thoughts he received, but Coutts was able to get the orcs to agree to release the RAF pilot, without any further conditions. The restraints on both MacGregor and the orc prisoner were released, and both groups started to file back to their destinations – the SAS team into the helicopter, and the Pakistanis back into the complex. The only one who stayed for a second longer than necessary was Merrick, who simply stood and stared through his gas mask at the freed orc. After that, though, he followed his team into the helicopter.
An hour later, the rest of the Pakistanis at the Karachi complex would receive a telepathic message: Transmitting location and layout of SAS base in Wales. And you may want to check on your refugee. Confused by this, all that the orcs did in response at first was check on the prisoner they'd just exchanged. They found him dead. His eyes had dissolved, and blood was flowing from the empty sockets, the mouth, and more than a few sweat glands.
They immediately made plans to retaliate.
“I... I think that will be all for today, Mr. Hayes.” Oakley was disturbed by the description of the young orc's body, he couldn't deny that. Nor could he deny his disgust at Merrick's action. Directly breaking an international law? For what purpose? He could only guess.
“Fine,” Merrick said as he stood up. “I will have the guard escort me back to my padded cell. I do not need your assistance.”
Once Merrick was out of the door, Oakley took a few deep breaths and locked the door. He went back to his desk, took a few more breaths to calm himself, and began his notes for this session. He had a lot of theories, but only time would tell which – if any – were correct.
"Guyguysguys! You're not going to believe this!" I said approaching my crew. They were in the big cleaning supply closet as always. It was like our own little clubhouse. "I was in Master's lab and something caught fire and then there was sizzling, and now-"
"Your rune is glowing," Nineteen interrupted.
"My rune is glowing... Wait, what?"
"Your rune is glowing," she (and before you ask, that was a decision made after years of "soul" searching, so I would be grateful if you respected that) repeated.
"What? I was just going to say I could feel heat. The damn thing is glowing!?" I reached up and rubbed at the rune. It didn't seem any different. "Your screwing with me," I said, more out of hope than sureness. "Seriously?"
"She's not lying, Seventeen," Twenty adds in. "Your rune is glowing. It's also different now. You think whatever the master was working on did it to you?"
"Yeah, it made my skull and my clothes sizzle." I show them where the sizzle got on my robes. "Now I can feel heat. And apparently my head glows."
"Sooo, what does it feel like?" Eighteen asks. "What is it like to feel at all?"
"Uh," I mumbled. What was it like? I just got it, how did I think about it. We could always notice physical resistance like a wall or when we were holding something, but feeling? "It's like a... Like a..." The three look at me expectantly. "Like a sound, but on your bones." I stick out my hands like illustrates my point. "Just outside a magma vein, it's like a low humming sound, but when you stick your hand in it's like a scream. It's awesome."
*"Like hearing on your bones?" Eighteen repeats, looking at his hands. Nineteen and Twenty give each other aside glances.
"So what are we going to do?" Nineteen asks.
"Bout what?"
"We'll have to hide him." Twenty answers.
"Hide?"
"We also can't let anyone else know." Nineteen adds.
"Explanation!" I finally shout in demand.
"You really think the master's going to just let you be?" Twenty says sternly.
"Or that the others won't tell him? We're all a pack of sycophants. The only reason we aren't turning you in is because..." Nineteen stopped. She didn't seem to know the word for it, or she didn't want to say it.
"Yeah, I get it. Thanks guys. But hiding isn't going be enough, if not from the master, then from the others." I stroke my chin in thought, a habit imitated from the master. "We need to escape." The room was filled with a poignant silence.
"We?" Eighteen finally piped up.
"Yes, we!" I answered. "It's a much better plan than simply hiding."
"Seventeen," Nineteen said, "Your life is on the line. The master will crack your skull open to try and figure out what the glowing means. It's a good idea to run away. But we..." she grasps my hand, trying and failing to comfort me.*
"Our lives aren't in danger," Twenty finishes for her. "As badly as he treats us the idea to run away has never once crossed our minds. I don't think it would be possible to betray the master without that."
"But guys, there's no way I could go without-"
"You're going to have to," Twenty interupts. "You were unfortunately right, there's no way we could hide you for long."
"We'll protect you, Seventeen. No need to worry!" Eighteen says reassuringly. I was not reassured.
"What, no! I was only so gung ho because..." my complaints fell on deaf ears. They were already planning my escape.
"The only non magical way out is through the trap maze, so unless we want you out of here in pieces we're going to have to handle this carefully..." Sometimes I hate having friends who care so damn much.
Now I want to do something with Nineteen, Twenty, and Eighteen now.
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Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
@ Rise of the Prophet - Reminds me of all the historical war movies about oppressed people uprisings. What happened to part 2 of your story? I remember reading it.
I removed it. I'd rather not talk about why.
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My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
"Jake Stevenson to see you, ma'am," the guard said.
"I don't want to see him," Billie said morosely.
For four days, this had been the routine. Breakfast, shower, lunch, visit attempt, exercise, dinner, bedtime. Being on high security and suicide watch, the prisoner had very little privacy. She'd had none at all until she was fitted with biomonitors that would set off an alarm if any of her life signs flagged. This allowed her at least the dignity of being able to use the shower and toilet in privacy.
She had access to the television (embedded in the wall, so she couldn't use it as a weapon), could request a doctor or therapist at any time. The guards were chosen from those who felt friendly to her. It was not the intention of Vasquez, Jake, or Gus to keep her in solitary confinement. But the person she wanted to see was the person who refused to see her at all. Gus would not visit or even send her a message, and she didn't want to see the man who took his place.
A few moments later, the guard returned. It was a young woman named Tracey, who seemed to like Billie. "Ma'am, he asked me to give you a message," she said, and held out a folded piece of paper.
Billie thought of refusing it, but there was a chance it was from Gus. She took the page and unfolded it.
Billie knew something was different the moment she'd awakened. Usually, when Elaine felt her hold on their shared body weakening, she fled far from home, to keep Billie from learning anything about her life. But Billie had a sense of the city, and she thought she knew this one. There were so many people - so many different types of people. It could be no other than the center of the Nexus. Elaine had miscalculated.
Someone in the bustle of the streets bumped against her - and that was different too. They both usually found somewhere to hide when the change happened. She stumbled, caught herself on a lamp post.
Her balance was off. Her weight was off. There was... something... She looked down to see that she was pregnant.
Two feelings consumed her at once: "How dare that bitch?!" and "Mine!" and both emotions were equally powerful. She would find a way to hold on. She would give birth to the child. She would hide the child from Elaine forever and make sure it was hers, and not her rival's.
She made her way to a bench and spoke a word that caused a magic satchel to materialise next to her. She'd had to rob several people to get the money to have it enchanted, but it was worth it - especially the first few days after a change, before she could get settled somewhere. It had some clothes she wasn't ashamed to be seen in, enough money to get by on. And what she was looking for right now - her calendar.
Yes, it was early. Usually Elaine could fight her off for six months or more, but it had been barely five this time. She didn't know enough about babies - wasn't sure how far along she was. But maybe - it could be hers. It could have been conceived when she was the one holding the body. She wondered how she could find out. She'd need to consult with a midwife and learn.
Though - did it matter whose body it was conceived in, if both women carried the baby? No, it wouldn't. They each would give the child a personality, a soul. Billie felt sure of it. The child would be dual, just as they were. It didn't matter who conceived the child. It mattered who birthed it.
Billie made her plans, sure of having several months after the baby was born to hide it from Elaine. She hadn't counted on the physical strain of pregnancy or childbirth to shorten her time. As time passed, Billie could feel herself weakening, and realized this was why Elaine had lost hold early, and in the city. Billie realized she wouldn't have as much time as she thought.
When the time came, Billie swore at the midwife, at Elaine, at Henry Stevenson, and at the two different men who may have fathered the child on Billie. The midwife bore it composedly, as a part of her job. The others weren't there to hear. After nineteen hours of labour, the child was born breech.
And Billie remained herself as she held her son for the first time.
She could see at once that this was Elaine's child. But when her milk let down, she could not help but follow instinct and raise the child to her breast. As the boy nursed, Billie stroked his cheek. "Come, little one, my son, come out and see your mother." she cooed.
She might have grown to love him, had there been time. But over the next few days, she grew feverish and weak. The midwife didn't tell her she was dying, but she could hear it in her voice, and in the voices of the help that was called in. She was going to die here, and there would be no one to take care of the little one. He would be orphaned and sent to a foundling's home.
Better to die as her. Better to die as someone who had family. "Send for... Henry Stevenson..." Billie told the midwife. "This is his son."
And for the first time, she voluntarily released her hold and let Elaine through.
"I am also your son," the note read, in Jake's neat handwriting. Billie crushed the page and flung it away with a snarl.
The worst part was that it was true. She had carried him in her body. She had given him suck. She had given him to her worst enemy to raise. She had done it all in the hopes that her own son was buried within him, would awaken someday as she had done, nothing more, but still, she had done it.
I can't remember exactly how long I laid there, waiting. I found that I really wasn't thinking about what they would do next, so much as when they would do it. I hated the waiting. It let my mind wander. And in this situation, imagination wasn't my friend.
Eventually, all ten of us were branded with our "IDs" and brought into this room. As the others came in, I started taking note of them. I had a feeling I should. I noticed the two Fire Bases didn't seem to be in as much pain as the rest of us. Which kind of made sense. Same goes for the Life Base. Now, normally, a Life's healing abilities could get rid of almost any scars, especially fresh ones. But, for some reason, her back looked just like the rest of ours. I wasn't sure if she couldn't heal them, or if she didn't want to. When the Shadow guy was brought in, she rushed over to him.
"Selvik!" She dragged him into her arms, which caused him to grimace.
"Trace...let go...pain..."
"Oh! Sorry..." She let go, worry in her eyes. "Turn around, let me see what I can do." Selvik nodded and did so. The wounds looked strange against the tattoos that covered him. Trace closed her eyes and held a hand over the area for a bit, concentrating. It didn't look like they were healing any, but his face showed less pain.
"That's all I can do. I don't know why, but I can't seem to get rid of them." Trace looked disappointed in herself. Selvik put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you did what you could. That's fine, Trace." Trace nodded a little. Then she moved around and did the same for the rest of us. I felt relieved as the pain went away. The area was still sore, but leaps and bounds better than it was.
Just as Trace finished helping the last person, the locked clicked, and the door opened. The guards came and dragged us out, guiding us further down the hall. We were brought into a large room that had ten exam tables set up. We were dragged onto a table and strapped down tight, barely even able to breath. When finished, the guards took positions near us as the doors opened again and a group of scientists and doctors paraded in. Each one looked like they'd never spent time at a gym. They seemed excited. Which worried me.
"Hello, hello, and welcome!" The head doctor looked towards the ceiling as he spoke. I followed with my eyes and saw several large mirrors where the walls met the ceiling. I was willing to bet they were one-way mirrors. "Yes, welcome to the first stage of our experiment in enhancing the Base Abilities. Now, as you are well aware, since the Rebirth, every single person on the planet possesses abilities tied to one of the ten Bases." As the doctor spoke, the others wheeled over trays to our sides. The trays all had various tools and needles and other stuff that made me nervous. I could hear the sounds of a few people struggling, but it was obvious we weren't going to escape. Not now, anyways.
"And since then, the strength of a person's abilities was based on a combination of natural talent and training. But, even with the highest amount of talent and the best training, one can only go so far. What we hope to do is break that barrier. We hope to push the abilities farther than they have ever gone before. And, if luck should smile on us, we may even achieve the long sought goal of having multiple Bases in a single person."
"Now, we have here ten subjects with various Bases. We chose the strongest, most desirable subjects from our initial pool. We could not grab one of each Base, however, that could change easily in the future. We were fortunate to attain both a Life and a Kinetic Base, which are rare indeed. So, without further delay, we shall begin with the first step in the process."
And with that, it started. The doctor attending to me rubbed almost my entire left arm with rubbing alcohol before giving me a series of shots of various chemicals. Now, I'd never been much of a fan of needles. What was going on here was just ridiculous. I had a total of ten needles of various lengths shoved into my arm, all in different spots. I was still kind of dazed from the branding, so these shots didn't help that at all. I wasn't really paying attention to what the head doctor was saying anymore. He mentioned something about discovering chemicals that affect the natural balance of Base powers and other sciencey stuff that went over my head.
I felt myself wanting to blackout again, but I stayed awake. I wasn't going to pass out. I refused. Sure, slipping unconscious may have taken away some of the pain. But, I didn't care. I wouldn't do it.
When the shots were done, the doctor wheeled the tray away. I thought it was done.
"And now, to activate the chemicals in the body, we must send current through the subjects. This helps the molecules of the solutions to move through the body, and to bond to their cells. Once bonded to the cells, the chemicals can use the cells to reproduce themselves, thus securing their constant presence in the body."
I felt my eyes go wide and my jaw drop at that. We were gonna be...electrocuted?
I started struggling in my restraints. I'd put up with shots, but I wasn't gonna let them electrocute me. Not that I could really fight it off.
The doctor returned with some machine on a cart. He lifted straps that had wires running back to the machine and started applying them. One around each ankle, one around each wrist, and one around the head. Then he applied sticky pads, also with wires, and laid them in various spots on my arms, legs, neck, and torso. Then, at the word of the head doctor, he flipped a switch on the machine.
Pain. More uncontrolled pain. Not quite as much as the branding. But, instead of just being on my shoulder, it was in my entire body. I swear I could feel it in my eyeballs.
Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from falling unconscious this time.
I realized that there's a good chance of this story reaching twenty parts now. Maybe more. I started writing this up, and I just can't stop myself now.
__________________
Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
Brutal. One thing I think could use some more explanation is the world it's all taking place in - it sounds like Earth, but there are orcs and psychic powers.
Quote:
Originally Posted by OrchestraHc
More Sevet:
Like Sight to the Blind
Spoiler
*snip*
"Like hearing only in your bones" is a pretty original way of describing feeling, I guess. And I'm curious as to how the escape will go.
Quote:
Originally Posted by happyturtle
Billie
Billie/Elaine Part 5: Mother
Spoiler
*snip*
That's pretty sad... it's also interesting to read a story that takes place at the same time as RP in another thread. All other stories take place in the characters' pasts or even 500 years before current IC time.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
I love this story. I'd love even more to know more about the world they're in. It's fascinating the mix of orcs and real world places
Quote:
Originally Posted by OrchestraHc
Shucks happyturtle, your makin' me blush!
More Sevet:
Like Sight to the Blind
Spoiler
*snip*
Now I want to do something with Nineteen, Twenty, and Eighteen now.
Yes, yes, yes, more please!
Quote:
Originally Posted by KerfuffleMach2
And here's number 52.
Memories - Part 8
Spoiler
*snip*
I realized that there's a good chance of this story reaching twenty parts now. Maybe more. I started writing this up, and I just can't stop myself now.
Twenty parts is perfectly acceptable. :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by Morty
That's pretty sad... it's also interesting to read a story that takes place at the same time as RP in another thread. All other stories take place in the characters' pasts or even 500 years before current IC time.
So much of Billie and Elaine's stuff, and the Missy stuff, is backstoryiffic or mostly self-rp that it seems right to put it here and just link to it from the IC thread - especially if I feel it's something that can stand alone. It also makes it easier to find later, of course.
I decided to re-post the second part of goblin backstory, having deleted it earlier out of frustration.
Rise of the Prophet, Part 2
Spoiler
Night had fallen over a small plateau low in the Last Mountains. Wojciech, a young Imperial soldier, was patrolling the perimeter of a modest encampment built around a mine, lighting his way with a lantern. He hated this place and this post. He had been assigned to the Northern contingent and to this craphole as a punishment for insubordination. The army was becoming more and more strict these days, with people getting degraded, reassigned and executed for the most minor things. So there he was, guarding a mine and a bunch of goblins. Ugh. Disgusting rodents. Why guard them anyway? It's not like they can do anything ser-
Wojciech's train of thought was interrupted when something swept his legs from under him and a knife sunk in the back of his neck.
As the human sentries outside and om the walls were being stealthily killed, two small figures dressed in an assortment of stolen and scavenged clothing crept through a hole in the pallisade. Slipping from shadow to shadow, they reached the penned-up area inside the walls. Duntak and Bildig knew they didn't have much time. The slaves had to be freed before the paste-skins realized their sentries were dead. But Hultznim the great prophet of their new god and Trablig, his general, explained the plan to them in detail, so they knew what to do. They headed in the direction of one of the fenceposts which they knew had been loosened by the slaves lately, after they had managed to slip a few messages to them. This way, they managed to lift it just enough to slip through, inside the penned-up area. Once inside, they quickly hushed the slaves up and began working on the shackles. They were shoddily made and the two clever goblins didn't have too much trouble picking the locks. Now they just had to wait as outside, battering rams and axes drew near the wall...
Bolesław, the commander of the guards in the mining encampent was awakened by the sound of broken wood. He immediately ran towards the window and dragged the shutters open. When he saw what was going on, he wasn't sure if it wasn't just a bad dream.
The gate had been broken down, and there seemed to be several holes in the wall as well, through which small figures waving an assortment of weapons poured in, overwhelming the few guard that had investigated the noise with sheer numbers and brutality.
To his credit, he realized that they could only have got so close by taking out the sentries and that it suggested a level of organization that was, to put it mildly, troubling. But these were only goblins. Kill a few of them, the rest ought to flee. He put on his boots, grabbed his sword and ran outside to rally his men.
He did not get much time to realize that he had made a mistake. The goblins poured into the camp from several directions, firing arrows, throwing javelins... and extinguishing sources of light. The purpose soon became clear - in the dark, they could use hit-and-run tactics, causing confusion among the ranks of the humans, who were cut down, shot and stabbed to death one by one. The goblins had put together a good plan to gain an element of surprise, it seemed, and they were using it ruthlessly. The reason Bolesław did not have much time to contemplate it was that a goblin came out of nowhere and buried his spear in his lower spine.
The life of Virka the goblin had taken quite a turn lately. She was still a little one when her tribe was captured and herded into a slave mine and she knew little else than work. And now there she was, holding a mining pick and huddling together with other slaves, waiting for a signal to break down the door to the penned-up area and attack the unsuspecting humans from behind. She could hear the clamour from the main area of the encampment, where free goblins were attacking and killing humans. The horrible, bullying humans who had kicked them, beaten them and starved them and expected them to work for them. Her knobbly hands gripped the pickaxe's handle. Amazingly enough, she was not afraid. She had been afraid most of the time while enslaved but now she just wanted to kill.
When a flaming arrow whizzed above the slaves' area followed by a shrill shout, they opened the door and barged out. They saw human soldiers, some in rather incomplete armour, fighting a rag-tag band of goblins, who seemed to come from every side, hitting the enemy and retreating back into the shadows. Most sources of light around the camp had been extinguished, it seemed. They roared and charged, quickly catching up with a squad of soldiers running to reinforce their comrades, dogpling them, then stabbing, biting, punching, hacking and gouging until they stopped moving.
Most of the human civilians in the encampment - craftsmen, foremen, overseers, cooks - ran towards the mine when the attack began - away from the walls and the horde which pouring through. Some didn't, running straight into the goblins' arms - or rather, onto their weapons - in confusion. Some were shot or cut down as they escaped. The enemy seemed thoroughly uninterested in taking prisoners or sparing a single soul from the camp. Now, they huddled together as the sounds from the outer areas of the camp suggested the hope of waiting here until the invaders are repelled grew more and more slim. More and more of them - mostly women and children - began to break down and cry, especially when they saw smoke rise from the buildings - the goblins had begun to enthusiastically set fire to everything even remotely flammable.
We have to make a run for it! One of the men shouted. If we stay here, they'll surround us and butcher us!
Yes! Another one responded. Get the women and children in the middle! Maybe we'll slip past them!
Noone felt like arguing. Men formed a protective huddle around their wives and children and ran for their lives towards one of the broken gates. It wasn't long until goblin archers began to take aim...
Dartak had to admit - the human non-combatants had been clever. They had dashed towards one of the exits, counting on the goblin fighters to be too occupied with the remaining human soldiers, and it paid off - quite a few of them managed to get past the wall and continue running in a desperate attempt to reach the villages and towns in the lowlands. Mostly women and children - the men had placed themsevles on the edges of the group, so most of them had been picked off by goblin archers on the walls and inside them. But the Prophet and his general had made it clear - no survivors were to bring the news to anyone.
So now a terrified, crying band of women and kids, with a couple of lucky men, were running for their lives. They had no light with them - those carrying torches and lanterns made easiest targets - and the snow dulled the sounds of their steps. Thus, even goblins had trouble seeing and hearing them. However, they had no way to conceal their smell. Dartak whistled, and the sound was followed by a dozen others - signalling the huge, mangy wolves he and his twelve comrades were mounted on to hunt. They caught up with the group of survivors in the matter of seconds. Dartak ran a woman through with his spear, discarded it, produced a curved hobgoblin sabre and cut down her son with it as his wolf's jaws closed on the head of another human whelping.
Dawn rose over a smoking ruin and corpses. The goblins had taken everything of value and burnt the rest to cinders, then they left to re-join the bulk of the horde. They had great news to bring to their prophet and his general.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
I woke up on my cot in my cell. My entire body ached. I had never been in this much pain before. My shoulder was still on fire, and I could barely move my limbs. After a few tries, I managed to get into a sitting position. Then came the challenge of standing.
Once that was accomplished, I walked to my door and looked out the little opening. Nothing was going on in the hall. I walked back to my cot, sat down, and lowered my head, feeling thoroughly miserable.
Nothing happened that day. Not sure why. Maybe they wanted whatever they injected us with to sit and grow or something. I found myself feeling my new scars on my shoulder a few times. The area was still tender, but nothing compared to the day before.
I also noticed something else. It took me a while, but I felt...it's hard to explain. It felt like I had way more energy than I should or something. I mean, I'd gone my whole life knowing the limits of my abilities. And now...now, it's like I had just discovered them for the first time. I felt so much potential energy. It was...odd...scary...and exhilarating.
The day passed, I went to sleep feeling a little better. Much less sore, at least. The next day came with my door being slammed open and soldier dragging me up and out of the room. All of us were being taken together this time. They brought us into a room of similar size and design to the one we were in when they gave us the injections. Several people were here with all sort of equipment. No tables this time, which I took as a good sign. Wasn't sure if I was right, but I was willing to take my chances on that. I'd look for any good sign at that point. Silver lining and what not.
The head doctor was here again, and once we were lined up, he started his obviously rehearsed speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, today we will demonstrate that the chemicals injected previously have in fact enhanced the abilities of all the subjects."
Great. We're freaking show dogs now. I would have said something sarcastic, but I figured that'd earn some kind of punishment I wouldn't want.
"Our first test will be with subject number 5641." The guards grabbed the Shadow guy, Selvik, by the shoulders and maneuvered him forward towards the middle of the room. As the doctor talks about the normal limits of Shadow abilities, Selvik was hooked up with various nodes. Probably to measure his heart rate and stuff. He seemed cautious, but not scared. Course, he was probably freaking out. Who knew what they were going to do.
Finally, they blindfolded him. Which made me nervous. Then the doctor grabbed what looked like a baseball. "With his abilities enhanced, subject 5641 has gained the capability to sense an objects presence by its shadow."
And then, without any warning, the doctor threw the ball at Selvik's head.
To my surprise, Selvik moved. He turned and stepped to his right, dodging the ball. It hit the wall behind him with a thud. The doctor seemed pleased. Selvik seemed mildly surprised. His head was pointed at the ball, like he could actually see it. The doctor waved to get Selvik's attention, and Selvik responded by looking at the man. Again, surprise crossed his face.
One by one, we were each brought forward and put on display. And everybody's abilities were beyond the normal range. It surprised me.
"And last, we have subject number 0388, the Kintetic Base." I was brought forward and hooked to the sensors. Like Selvik, I was blindfolded. I started to get really nervous, and tried not to shake.
"Subject 0388 is capable of sensing motion around her, similar to subject 5641's sense of shadows."
I knew what was coming. I felt my body tense up. Nobody went over with me how to use these new abilities I supposedly had. I was gonna get clocked in the head. I was going to fail this demonstration. They would probably have me killed after that. Killed cause I couldn't use abilities I didn't know I had.
Snap out of it, Zel. You're not gonna die. You refuse. You won't let some stupid *******s dictate when your time on this planet ends. You. Will. Not. Die.
And that's when I felt it. I felt things around me. Like when somebody brushes against you. You can just feel it, just enough to get your nerves responding. I felt that all around me. Like I was everywhere in the room, and everything was brushing against me. Except one object. It wasn't just casually going by me. It was ripping by, on a crash course. Aimed for my face.
I reacted without thinking. But not like Selvik did. Instead of dodging, I swung my hand in a sideways swipe in front of me. I felt the ball get hit by my force, then get deflected off course. It kept moving until I heard the thump of a hard object hitting flesh, immediately followed by a cry of pain. From the voice, it sounded like I just hit one of the guards with the ball.
Oops.
Everything was frozen for a moment. Then, before I knew it, there was a bunch of shouting, and I was thrown to the floor. I cried out as I felt my nose break from the force of it. Felt like at least two of the guards were on my back, with a third on my legs. I was completely pinned, and the weight of the guards on me made it hard to breath. Through my short cries of pain, I took labored breaths, not wanting to pass out. The doctor kept talking like nothing was happening. Mentioned something about starting the next phase tomorrow. Eventually, the guards got off me. I got in one good breath before I was yanked up and carried out. I was tossed back into my cell.
I spent the rest of the day in my cell, wondering why I did that. I knew I should've dodged. That would've been the safer, smarter option. So, why did I deflect it? And at a guard? Did I know the guard was there? I couldn't remember that well. I probably did.
And what did I experience then? I didn't even know that was possible. It was...it was wonderful, really. To be able to sense all the motion around me. It was such a wonderful feeling. Like I was connected to everything. I kept trying to do it again. But, I had difficulties.
I went to sleep wondering what this "next phase" had in store for us.
__________________
Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
This is a story that took place in a Nexus splinter timeline, during a Lovecraftian apocalypse. The personalities and histories of the characters are canon, the apocalypse and events are not.
Missy Halifax Reunion (Alt-Nexus)
Spoiler
The sky is burning.
Burning with unnatural orange flames that twist and writhe within the bloated, festering clouds that have blocked out all vision of the stars. Clouds that roil with shapes best left undescribed.
It hurts to look up. Hurts the mind. Wounds the soul.
Tendrils of truly unimaginable size sway below the clouds, sway like the arms of a decaying jellyfish that has completely enveloped the world. And where those tendrils touch the face of the planet they have burrowed deep into the earth, corrupting the world itself.
Stone and dirt have given way to flaky mummified flesh. Trees replaced with mammoth bristles and claws and teeth. Water festering away into stagnant fens bubbling with embalming fluid.
And anyone still alive caught in these dead-lands has their life consumed and their soul imprisoned within a withered husk of an undead body. Those already dead are fortunate. At least they've already moved on.
One such tendril hangs above Inside.
How long before it descends from that burning sky?
When Missy reaches her childhood home, she finds that the door has been broken down with violence. Inside, there is enough dried blood that it is unlikely anyone survived. But she makes a grim and determined search.
In the end, all she finds is part of her mother's hand, identifiable by the marriage tattoo. But Missy wouldn't have needed it. Who could ever mistake their mother's hands, whether it had been ten years or fifty since they'd seen it?
That her father had been there too, she only knows by some bloody scraps of his clothing.
She carries on her search though. It would have been easier if one of them were alive, but surely they had left something in writing. If they hadn't...
But they had. Missy finds a carved box on her mother's bedside table, and when she opens it, the sight of what is inside takes her breath away. A photograph of a ten year old boy.
She removes her helmet and gloves so she can look closer, touch the picture. Under it are a series of others, one for each year, moving backwards in time, until there is a newborn infant being held by a couple in traditional Orthodox Arnaudin dress. That could have been me and Nathaniel.
My son. That was my son.
She fights back the tears. No time for that now. Under the photos is a small collection of letters. No time for them either, except to get the address.
She has to do a lot more fighting to get through to the home where her son's adoptive parents live.
The whole time, she is haunted by memories. Or rather, one memory. The cry of a newborn, who had just taken its first breath. It was the only memory she had of her... her son. She hadn't even been told if it was a boy or a girl. They had simply whisked the child away and assured her that it was for the best, until she had come to believe it herself.
But now, he needs his mother. And she hopes she isn't too late.
And when she enters the small house of the broken down door, there is hope. Missy's parents had died without lifting a hand in defence, true to their religious beliefs in non-violence. But it seems that her son's adoptive parents are less ideologically pure - perhaps because they had a child to defend. There is a battle going on. A woman is holding a magical ward up, while the man attacka the creature with an improvised flamethrower - an aerosol spray bottle with a lighter.
Missy finishes it off quickly, and scans the area. There is a heat source below the floor, under a rug, below the woman, under the dome of the magical ward. Their son (my son!) of course.
"Remnant! Thank the Prophet you're here!" the woman says, her ward dropping. She looks exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. "I couldn't have kept it up much longer."
"Is there a safe place anywhere? We have a son..."
"Is he hurt?" Missy asks.
"No, just scared," the woman says. "Is it safe? Are there any more around?"
"I'll do a quick perimeter," Missy says. "Wherever he's hidden, leave him there till I'm back."
Missy isn't gone long, only making sure the immediate area is clear, before she returns. "Okay, let's get your son, (my son!) and I'll try to get us a teleport out. There's no time to pack."
The woman rolls back the rug, and opens the trap door. A boy, dark skinned and stocky, leaps out and hugs his mother (she's not his mother! she stole him from me!) tightly.
"I was praying so hard, mama. I prayed and prayed and prayed." the boy says.
"Good boy. The Prophet heard your prayers and sent Remnant," the mother says, with tears in her eyes.
"We need to step outside. We'll get a better fix that way," Missy says.
"Dad, get The Book!" the boy says.
"What book?" the man says.
And with that, the mother freezes, and pushes her son behind her. "Th-that's not Peter."
Missy doesn't hesitate. Moving in a blur she steps between Peter and the other two and sprays him with fire. Lots of it.
Missy tries to ignore the screams behind her as the man melts into ooze, bits of him trying to escape the flames. But Missy is ruthlessly thorough. The boy breaks free from his mother's grasp and tries to run towards the flames, but Missy reaches out and grabs his arm hard.
Too hard. She feels one of the bones in his wrist break. "That isn't your father!" She yells.
"But the Book!"
"Oh for **** sake, I have a copy of your **** Book. Now let's GO!" She activates her radio. "Boss? I need a teleport for three, transmitting coordinates," Missy reports in on Edijar's radio.
Locking onto co-ordinates now, and initializing teleportation. His voice replies. After a moment, there's a shriek of static and an arc of electricity erupts above the city's Blue Zone, fanning out in all directions as it slowly dissipates. There's a long pause before Edijar speaks again. The...the net is down. He says, a bit shocked. The fire in the sky must have finally killed it. I'm sorry, but you're on your own. Want me to try and reach you by flight?
Missy curses, inside her helmet only. Her two charges are waiting next to her, holding each other and crying for the husband and father they've lost, as their home burns behind them.
If I had come earlier. If I hadn't gone on the supply runs.
She could have asked Edijar for permission to leave earlier. Hell, she could have just left, permission or no. But she was a soldier, and she had done her duty first.
A mother would have come for her child first.
On the radio: "Yes, but stay low and as cloaked as you can. I think whatever it is might be intelligent."
To the mother and son next to her. "Teleport is down. Let me see your arm." She takes out some bandage and expertly wraps her son's (He's her son, not mine.) wrist. "Sorry I grabbed you so hard. I was afraid you'd get burned."
"Do you really have a copy of the Book of Arnold?" the boy asks, sniffling.
"'Soon will I rest, yes, forever sleep. Earned it I have. Twilight is upon me, soon night must fall.'" Missy quotes.
"Jedi 8:17," the mother says. "I didn't expect a Remnant to know the scripture."
"Oh I'm full of surprises." Missy says. She goes to pick up the pair, one on each power armoured side. "If there's trouble, I'll going to drop you. If I do, stay close. As close as you can. Got it?"
Her own suit's antigrav is iffy at best, so she simply takes off running. Hoping against hope that she can somehow get through.
Suddenly there's a massive explosion above them. Missy looks up. Florescent orange slime and mummified meat-chunks and a tentacle-piece the size of a mall are now descending toward Inside.
Missy responds on instinct, hitting the deck, while protecting the two civvies with her body. It likely isn't terribly comfortable for the civvies in question. Heck, if she dropped the full weight of her power armour on them, it'd possibly be fatal. But it's definitely more comfortable than tentacle acid or the rubble that's going to be flying everywhere once the main segment hits. She wonders who had been doing battle in the sky, but supposes she'll never find out. The explosion almost certainly killed whoever it was.
The debris she expected is blocked when a shadowed figure suddenly appears standing above them. Edijar is hunched over slightly, and has his shield deployed. He grunts as a rather large piece bounces off, but otherwise seems okay.
Chunks of meat and bile smash into the ground around the group. That isn't too terrible, all things considered. Just a really unpleasant sort of rain. Except this unpleasant rain begins warping anything it lands on into mummified flesh.
To make matters worse the massive tentacle slams into the ground about a quarter of a mile away. The result is about what one would expect from such a massive object crashing to earth.
Between Missy and Edijar, they manage to keep the civvies from getting hurt at all. Of course, then there's the massive dust cloud raised by the tentacle. and the damage to her armour. Missy doesn't want to think about how the heck her armour has partially turned into jerky, so she doesn't. She pulls out a pair of face masks from her first aid kit. "It won't do much, but it's better than nothing," she says. And to Edijar, "Thanks, boss."
The boy obediently puts on the face mask, then looks up at the two soldiers. "We're not going to make it, are we?"
Edijar breathes a bit heavily, audible to everyone. As the dust settles and clears, Missy sees his shield falling to pieces, with his left arm noticably smaller, the armor having withered with the mummification, crushing the arm within. For a moment, he's in excruciating pain, but his armor is still functional enough to administer a heavy dose of painkillers. With a grunt, he reaches with his good hand and tears off the destroyed shield.
The rest of his armor is still in one piece, as is his helmet, so it luckily hides his face. He straightens up and flicks his good wrist, letting a long slender blade slide out. "We aren't too far. Missy, take one, I'll take the other. We'll fly out of here. You'll be safe, I swear." He promises with complete conviction.
"My antigrav is damaged. I've relegated it to emergency use only," Missy says, on the radio line to Edijar. And then, to her son on the speaker on the outside of her armour, she says, "But if we don't, we'll be taken on ships from the Grey Havens to the Paradise Planet. And when we get there, your dad will be waiting."
Missy's suit is mostly airtight still. Edijar's is fairly damaged, but should protect his lungs. But the civvies just have dust masks. Not good.
Missy points out a butcher shop. "They might have an airtight freezer."
They make it inside just before the dust cloud hits. The butcher's freezeris magically cooled and the air magically recycled. Which is good, because otherwise they would be hiding in an air-tight freezer filled with rotting meat.
The mother grabs a couple of jackets that are hanging outside the freezer, supplied for the workers, and wraps her son up in them.
"Your name is Submission-in-Adversity, isn't it?" the mother asks in a low voice.
Missy meets her eyes, though her helmet partially conceals her face. She knows. Of course she knows. She stayed in touch with Mum after all. Finally, she nods.
"How do you know her name?" the boy asks his mother.
"I knew her parents, Halifax" the mother says, still looking at Missy. "You were named after her- her family."
Missy takes off her helmet, to look at her son. "Hi Halifax. It's nice to meet you."
Edijar keeps one ear on the conversation as he seals the doors to the freezer. A small nozzle slides out of a fingertip and he sprays a liquid over the cracks in the door frame. In a moment, the liquid solidifies, turning to solid metal. "We'll stay here for an hour, then move on." He informs them before reaching into one of his compartments, pulling out a handful of red stones he passes to the step-mother. "Key word is "Heat". Go ahead and activate them, they'll provide enough heat to warm up the room to an acceptable level." He tells her, his voice slightly off-kilter as he keeps from slurring, the powerful drugs in his system beginning to take their toll.
Missy turns to Edijar to try and provide what field medicine she can. He activates his comm device to talk to Missy silently, not wanting the others to know how bad his arm is. Don't. The arm is lost. Crushed. I'm already doing best I can to minimize other damage. He tells her right before there's a slight metallic sound, and the arm falls limp to his side. Inside the armor, a mono-edged iris had shut at his shoulder, severing the arm and cauterizing the wound. He silently tears a strip from his cape as the others talk and ties his arm tight to his body. It was awkward, but if the worst came to be, he could use it to shield himself just a bit more. Missy knows what that sound means, and simply helps Edijar with the cape. She doesn't have her own helmet on, but her cybernetics allow her to hear him just fine. She just can't talk back without being heard.
Halifax snuggles close to his mother. Any machismo from being a ten year old boy is quite lost in being in the middle of an apocalypse and having just lost his father. But thinking about his father hurts a lot, so instead, he thinks about the strange people who are here. "Are you an Arnaudin? Should I call you Sister Submission-in-Aversity?"
"I was an Arnaudin a long time ago, but I lost my faith. My friends call me Missy, but maybe if you call me Sister Missy, it will help me find it again." she says.
"But you carry weapons. We aren't supposed to fight our enemies." Halifax says.
"This is different, Hal. We are supposed to help people instead of fighting them. But the monsters outside aren't people. Sister Missy and her friend are protecting us from them." His mother says. Missy, turned away from them at the moment, bites her lip. Her own parents would never have made such a concession to her.
"Oh. Okay. Are you an Arnaudin too?" he asks Edijar.
Edijar is quiet, thinking for a moment before his helmet slides back, exposing his face for the first time to them. He looks paler than usual, and obviously somewhat uncomfortable. "I...am not. My faith and loyalties have always been to the city." He admits.
"You can call him Mr Losthold," Missy says to Halifax, knowing he would have been taught to address adults by their title. And she looks at Halifax's mother, who she had spent the last ten years of her life hating. "And I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know your name."
"Sister Sonja."
"But Mr Losthold, if you aren't a believer, that means you won't go to the Paradise Planet with the rest of us," Halifax says, very worried.
"The Prophet cares for believers and unbelievers alike, remember?" Sister Sonja says. She was grateful that her son's faith was so strong, but did not want it to become a source of distress for him in what was likely to be his final hours. "That's why we aren't to raise our hands in violence towards them."
She may have been trying to comfort her child, but her words were also giving comfort to Missy, who had left her faith behind so long ago. She had never expected to find a seed remaining still inside her, suddenly finding fertile soil in the midst of this nightmare.
"'We cradle each other's lives, and what threatens one of us, threatens all,'" Missy quotes from the scripture.
"Yes. Whatever he believes, Mr Losthold is one of us now."
Satisfied with this answer, Halifax says his prayers, and falls asleep, with his head in his mother's lap.
Edijar watches the child fall asleep, feeling a pang of regret at never having his own, but he quickly shoves it aside, thinking of all the wonderful times he had enjoyed with Charity. After a few long and quiet minutes, he reaches into another compartment, pulling out a small flask and a ration bar, offering both to the mother. "You need to eat and drink. Keep your energy going. Take it all, then sleep, we'll keep the place safe, I promise."
Sister Sonja hesitates, and Missy guesses why. "I have more for Halifax when he wakes. But you need your strength for him."
"Thank you," she says, and the hand on her son's shoulder suggests what the gratitude is really for. She slowly eats the ration bar, having to force down every bite but knowing it's necessary fuel for the body.
Edijar stays silent for a while, looking at the others from the corner of his eyes as a dull ache began to seep into his bones. It wasn't the pain of his wounds, even though that was part of it. It was the pain of loss, hopelessness. He knows that all they were doing was buying time. For a long moment, he runs the math in his head, trying to figure out the probabilities of survival in certain situations. Before, they had been somewhat high, but now, with Missy compromised...
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, relaxing and pushing the negative thoughts aside. He couldn't tell them that they weren't likely going to make it. They all knew it anyway, but, no one would say it for the child, and maybe, that much was worth it. Silently, he pulls out a small bundle from yet another compartment and unrolls it, exposing several syringes filled with clear fluid. His fingers dart over them, pausing at one, causing him to think. Cyanide solution...that much would make it silent and painless for the child, near instant...Mother next, make it quick, as painless as possible. One arm would be enough. Missy would be too slow to react likely, and her weapons would be hard-pressed to kill me before I finished her off as well. Chance of survival...negligible.
The thought passes, and so do his fingers as he pulls out a different syringe, passing it to the boy's mother. "Inject that into his shoulder. It'll help the healing process and will help dull the pain of his arm." Edijar tells her before taking a seat against the wall and slumping down, tired, as he pulls in a breathe of cold air. He closes his eyes. "Tell me about the Paradise Planet." He asks.
Even though he doesn't believe in such a place, and even if there was one, he believes he won't be going there, the others need to hear something about their own afterlives, to make them feel better, that this wasn't all for naught.
Sister Sonja injects her son with the painkiller and softly recites, "Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back and all change to silver glass….and then you see it. - white shores and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."
Missy nods along with Sister Sonja's words. "It is said that no one sleeps. That to simply to walk among the gardens of the Blessed Realm is to be refreshed."
"The Force will reveal the truth. That we are not these mortal frames, but luminous beings."
"And in that land, there will be no more suffering, for broken hearts... are mended."
And that's enough for Missy to crack, lowering her face and shaking with silent sobs. For ten years, there had been a gaping, unhealed wound in her heart. For the first time, it is starting to heal.
Edijar gets up with a bit of a grunt before moving closer to Missy, kneeling next to her and giving her shoulder a pat. He looks concerned, and completely understanding when he looks into her eyes. With a bit of a nod, he speaks quietly to her. "Command phrase: More Cow Bell." He whispers. She'll feel a prick inside of her suit after a second before a strong sedative kicks in. As much as he's trusted those under him, there were always things he needed to keep for himself.
Such as a number of phrases integrated into their armor's programming.
Missy gives Edijar a hurt and angry look before she falls asleep, sitting up with her armour supporting her.
After she falls asleep, he stands the rest of the way before taking off the remains of his cape and draping it around the other woman and the child before sitting against the wall.
"Your Paradise Planet sounds wonderful. If...if the time comes, and you find a wonderful woman named Charity Evans there, or another named Rebecca Gale, tell them I'm sorry I won't be joining them."
"Is she..?" Sonja asks.
"She's just asleep. I'll reverse it when we need to move."
Sonja is silent for a while. "I was always so afraid that one day she'd come and take him away from me. Then I saw her, and I wanted to shove him into her arms and send him away to be safe with her."
"She won't. As much as she loves the child, I think she realizes he isn't really her's any more." He reaches out to gently squeeze the woman's hand. "You did a good job of lasting this long. You need not fear anything. I'll be sure all of you get back safely to the MagCave."
"I know." she says, with quiet conviction. She isn't despairing like Edijar and Missy have been. She truly believes that it will all work out somehow. Except... "I wish Peter was here." She doesn't cry though. She loved her husband deeply, but she can't cry for him yet. Not until they're safe.
And then.
Something happens.
Somewhere below the streets of the City the taint of Mantorok finally comes in contact with a small, grotesque statue that had been set up on an alter. And in that moment a window to another realm is rent open.
There will be nothing to see. No visible flash or pulse of power. Simply all the mummified flesh crumbling away into inert clumps of spongy fungus. The plague of undeath will be scoured from Inside and the surrounding regions. And even undead creatures not of Mantorok's fold find themselves destroyed in like fashion.
Survivors find minor wounds healed inexplicably and without any apparent reason as an invisible tide of eldritch power washes over the landscape. The power of life and growth and fertility.
Halifax breathes a bit easier in his sleep as his cracked wrist is healed most of the way, the strain on his young body lessened greatly, and his mother feels the same, most of the aches and tiredness of her muscles leaving her.
Unfortunately, Edijar, even if he notices the effect, doesn't feel it in the slightest. He lifts his head at the sound of Missy groaning, waking as the drugs in her system break down quickly.
As she climbs back to consciousness, Edijar checks his mental map one final time. They aren't too far from the MagCave, but it is still longer than was safe. They can't count on being uninterrupted. It is going to be a risk, but, it one they have to take.
Missy awakes, forcing herself to full alertness as quickly as she can. She considers berating Edijar for drugging her, but she's been a soldier too long. There was a reason soldiers were trained to obey their superiors without question, even if the orders were stupid or wrong. Questioning orders took precious time, eroded discipline. And without discipline, an army was simply a mob of armed men.
"The Prophet sent healing. Did you feel it, Sister Missy?" Sonja asks in a quiet voice, trying not to wake Halifax.
Missy mentally checks her biometrics, which report numerous injuries healed and fatigue poisons removed from the body, minutes ago. "I did." Maybe it's a sign? Maybe the Prophet really exists, even in this hellscape? She dismisses the thought. This isn't the time for spiritual meditation.
Sonja strokes her sons hair gently. Dark hair, tightly coiled, kept long and unbraided because he likes it that way. "I think we should tell him who you are. He knows he was adopted."
Missy shakes her head, her immediate answer concealing the turmoil in her thoughts. "No. Not the right time. Maybe after we get to the Cave." She looks to Edijar. "Is it time to move out?"
"I'm trying to get some external feeds, to find out what's going on. I don't want to unseal this room until we're sure..." he was about to say 'until we're sure it's safe', but of course it wouldn't be safe. All they can hope for was 'less unsafe'.
"I always wondered... when you left the Order to become a soldier. I always thought you might come and take him back." Sonja says.
The question hangs in the air, unspoken. Missy thinks about it a while, before she finally answers. "Losing him was the worst thing that had ever been done to me. When I thought of being the one to do that to someone else, it made me sick."
"I don't know what to say. Thank you seems so inade-- wait, you didn't give him up? He was taken from you?" Sonja says, as the implication of the words sinks in.
Missy nods.
"Oh Holy Prophet. Oh Missy. I didn't know." She wants to hug the other woman, but the power armour was in the way.
Missy doesn't answer. She mentally accesses her biometrics and sets them to Maximum Combat Efficiency. Inside her body, artificial signals are being sent to suppress some chemicals and encourage others. The betrayal, the hurt, the love for this child that she doesn't even know, the fear that she's about to lose him again... all of those emotions are dampened. Her senses are sharpened, her muscles filled with energy. "Not the time. We'll talk later. Wake your son. He needs to eat before we move out." Her voice is blank, emotionless.
Time to move.
Perhaps if Edijar still had two arms, or if one of them had a fully functioning suit of power armour, it would have gone differently. In the end, there are just too many of them. When the skirmish is over, Sonja is dead, and Halifax kneeling next to her.
"She went to be with daddy," he says. "She left me. Why did she leave me?"
He moves to take his mother's hand, and that's when Missy sees the wound in his gut. They have minutes to get him to the cave and onto an operating table, where he'd have a roughly even chance of dying on the table. And if he survives, a long, painful recovery.
"Hold her hands, and say your prayers, Halifax," Missy says. "She'll hear you."
She looks up at Edijar and holds out her hand. He hands her the cyanide syringe. The child, already in so much pain, doesn't even feel it.
Missy reaches into a compartment in her armour and takes out her mother's hand, and the bloodied garment that had been all she could find of her father and places them on the ground next to her son.
And then, she guesses what Edijar was thinking, or notices something with her heightened senses, or perhaps only imagines something. But she is certain that he is about to over-ride her suit again, and make use of another syringe.
She turns and meets his eyes. "No." She sees him hesitate, sees him decide. She sees a little more of the life going out of him. "We're soldiers, Edijar. We'll go down fighting."
He gives a tight nod, knowing she is right. There are other mothers, other children to protect. He'd only wanted to give Missy some solace. It isn't right that her reunion with her child should have been so brief, so meaningless.
They cremate the bodies, while Missy chants the Prayers for the Dead. And then they move on.
They never make it back to the MagCave.
* Rebonack and Wolfbane gave me permission to use their posts. Some editing was done to provide context and to work the roleplay cues into narrative, but the events are unchanged.
In the morning, my nose was still tender. I sat up, wishing very much to pass out again. I didn't get much sleep. My newfound ability kept me up as I kept feeling all the motion in the area.
I didn't get to sleep in, though. We were being brought out for some new thing that day. I found myself not really caring what it was anymore.
We were brought to the same room we received the injections in. All of the previous equipment had been removed. In its place was what appeared to be workout equipment. Or, something similar, at least.
We were split into two groups and started to go through a rigorous physical routine. This went on for weeks. They'd change the exact routine every so often, but it was always some kind of physical training. They never told us why we were doing this. Or for how long. We were just told to shut up and do it.
After one week of this, they started having us train with weapons. Just melee weapons. Guess they didn't trust us to not shoot them if given guns. I had trouble with most of them. Sure, I knew how to hold and swing a sword. But when I was up against a trainer, I got beat every time. Got a lot of bruises that way. I found I was more comfortable with a knife. But, even then, I wasn't great.
For some reason, I was starting to get worried by that. I mean, what would they do if I didn't learn how to use a weapon right? I didn't want to think about that.
In the second week, they started having us train our abilities as well. I had never felt my abilities to be so strong before. I could easily move objects with a flick of the wrist that used to take both arms. I could move things further and faster than ever before.
It felt wonderful.
In the third week, they started having us use our abilities in combat training. This is where I started to excel. Maybe it was due to my abilities being good compliments to fighting. Maybe it was because I finally had an outlet for every feeling I'd had since this whole fiasco began. Either way...it felt great to throw my opponents around. I realized quickly that there was no way I could escape from these sessions. They had armed guards at the door, and probably more in the hall. And I'm sure the guards were well trained with their own abilities.
The ability combat training also revealed that I had a knack for using weapons with my abilities. I'm not sure why, but it felt more natural for me to hold a sword with my abilities than with my hands.
Finally, after weeks of this, we were told why we were in this training routine. We had been gathered in the main room again. Instead of our usual training equipment, there were ten storage lockers. Each one had one of our ID numbers on it. There was also a table on the side the had a figure of a human head with some kind of collar around its neck.
"Subjects, today you will be performing the first of many missions. This is what we have gathered you and enhanced you for. This is what we trained you for. This is what we made you for."
The doctor walked near the figure on the table. "Now, each of you will put on one of these collars. These collars are to remain on your neck until we say otherwise. If you try to escape during this mission, well, this is what will happen." He pulled a little device out of his pocket and pushed a button. The collar exploded, sending pieces of plastic flying through the air. "If you do anything against the mission, we will detonate the explosive. If you try to remove it in any way, it will automatically detonate. Yes, 5641, that includes removing it with shadows."
After that eye-opening display, we were told to open our lockers and put on the gear. I opened mine to find a black, skin-tight outfit on top. There was no way it would fit over my clothes. Which meant they expected us to strip right here. I sighed to myself and removed my shirt. By now, the branding mark on my shoulder had healed physically. But, the emotional pain from it was still there. I could feel it rubbing against the fabric of the outfit. It didn't hurt, but I still didn't like it.
After the outfit, I found a belt with several throwing knives. They were brand new and hardly weighed anything. I put the belt around my waist, then lifted up the next item. It was a two-foot diameter bladed ring. The inner and outer edges were bladed, with three spots around it without any edge. They lined up with the three straps on the back of my outfit. With my abilities, I floated the ring in place and secured it. Then I finished dressing, donning the combat boots and gloves. I looked around at the others through this, taking not of what they had.
Everybody had pretty much the same outfit as me, with some minor variations. Selvik had four swords as his weapons. I recognized the pair of hook swords he always used during training. He also had a pair of swords with custom hilts, so he could wield them like tonfas.
Trace, the Life girl, had a simple handgun with many clips, as well as a couple grenades. She was meant as the team healer. Part of our job would be to make sure she never had need to use her weapons.
My eyes found one of the Wind Bases next. His name was Vishta. He had longer, dark hair, and his face made him look brooding. He had a pair of single-edged blades in a custom sheath. One hilt was at his right shoulder, while the other was at his left hip.
The Earth Base, Malox, was leaning against his closed case, waiting to continue. I swear, the guy would've been smoking if they let him. He has a simple wooden staff.
Terrik, the male Fire Base, seemed a little on edge. He was a big guy, and seemed to prefer fist fights during combat training. He donned a pair of bracers that'd help give some strength to his punches. And probably keep his wrists from giving out, too.
The Water woman, Elisia, still seemed out of it. I found myself wondering how she made it to this point. Why would they keep her? It obviously wasn't for amusement. Maybe the pair of steel claws she held was the answer.
The other Wind, Wolver, seemed to almost enjoy this. He was holding his scythe like a walking stick. When I had been getting dressed, he was messing with the side handle on it. There was a loud click, followed by the top bar holding the blade swinging up, and the blade dropping straight down to the floor with a loud clatter. The blade had a chain running from the back of it to the pole of the scythe. He grinned at that. Which made me nervous.
The Fire woman, Ivie, kept nervously fiddling with he weapons. She had retractable blades on her forearms and calves. She did a lot of acrobatic maneuvers during her training. She was crazy flexible, too.
Lastly, my eyes found the male Water Base. Ozkar. He didn't have any actual weapons. He preferred using his abilities. And he leaned more towards the ice side of his abilities than the water side. He'd freeze parts of his opponents and strike them there.
Once we were geared up and had the exploding collars in place, they led us to another tram. It had no windows, so we couldn't see anything that was going by. We didn't talk to each other as we traveled. Not just because of the many guards with us. Because of the fact that we were pretty much all nervous and a little afraid of whatever was coming. They still hadn't told us exactly what we would be doing. Which, at least for me, was a sign that it probably wasn't good.
__________________
Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
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I know Jezebel is evil and all, but I'm glad she found love in both her incarnations.
She activates her radio. "Boss? I need a teleport for three, transmitting coordinates," Missy reports in on Edijar's radio.
