The sun rises to a new day. Encephalon’s inhabitants will roll out of its sandy bed per usual, but for the Sixth child’s heralds, this is a day unlike any other. Few are allowed to witness a God Child rise into ascension, and for lowly heralds to be among that exclusive group is an unprecedented event in on itself. They’ve each received a year’s worth of Elric Zaitsev’s combat and psychological conditioning, running through what felt like an endless series of scenarios to prepare them for the unexpected. And not everyone passed. The group of heralds huddled inside The Sky Mariner are the cream of the crop. It’s also their first time together, under one roof…



A blue aerial transport scuttles across Snowstone's clear skies. At the helm is an enhanced-hume named, Albert Gentry, The Sky Mariner’s seasoned Captain. Don't let his age or compact size fool you. Old Al still has a spring in his step, likened to a feisty ball of energy that can keep up with any young whippersnapper worth their salt. Behind him are the newly appointed heralds of the Sixth child, randomly seated at the passenger cabin.

Albert is brimming with pride, honored to have such precious cargo aboard his modest ship. He spent the last few days making sure his vessel was problem-free, tirelessly repairing old hiccups and replacing makeshift doodads until he was satisfied. The last thing Albert wanted was for the history books to say, ‘The Sky Mariner crashed and burned before it even reached The Lotus Mirage, destroying all of Encephalon’s hopes and dreams along with it.’



The atmosphere in the passenger cabin was relatively quiet at first, so Albert played some acoustic music on the overhead speakers to fill the silence. He also turned on the ceiling projector. It relayed a feed from the cameras installed along the ship's exterior, displaying a holographic view of the large canyons down below. Upon closer inspection, aerial and surface traffic can be seen veining throughout these expansive crevices. They commute to and from the major city locales, stopping and going along the white outcroppings of Snowstone buildings in between; peeping out from the sides of these deep gorges like ivory-colored spores.

“Hey there, folks. We've just cleared lift off, so you're free to roam about the cabin.” Albert said over the intercom, momentarily cutting off the background music. “Restrooms are in the back. If you want some refreshments, make an order using the interface on the arm rest of your chair and the drones will bring it over. We've got aqua fresh from the Guidewater, along with a decent liqour selection from the finest Oasis vineyards and breweries. But, uh, I'd chug those to a minimum. Don't want the God Child to wake up to a bunch of glazed drunks now, do we? We’ve got about an hour or so before we reach The Lotus Mirage. Sir Elric will be waiting for us at the hangar bay."

---

---

The passenger cabin of The Sky Mariner was cool and well-ventilated. The ship’s Zyphan engines were surprisingly quiet, allowing Nacia to hear the full acoustics of the song playing on the overhead speakers. It was mostly instrumental, but every now and then a peculiar voice interjected. It sounded like a long chirp from a baby aviat of some kind, harmonizing with the background strings in a rich, but calming tone.

Nacia surveyed the faces of her fellow heralds. She recognized some of them in passing between her trials back at the Snowstone facility, but there was never a moment that allowed them to be in the same space like this. Introductions were being made if they hadn’t already, and the awkward silences were slowly fizzling out. Mostly. Nacia still hasn’t said a word to anyone since they boarded.

She half-listened to the small talk being tossed around; Her main focus were the God Child gifts some had in their possession. They were either neatly packaged, or displayed openly, showing off the fact that at least some kind of thought and effort were put into their presents. Nacia looked down at the clear, pill-shaped capsule in her hands and cringed at the fact that it contained a rolled-up finger painting. She tried not to overthink her choice gift for the Sixth child. Such a formality felt utterly meaningless to her anyways, but she obliged nonetheless. It’s not like my herald status will be rescinded if the Sixth doesn’t like my gift… Right?

She turned to the person next to her.

“Hey, what are you giving the God Child?” Nacia abruptly asked, hoping the answer was a rock with a ribbon tied around it, or something else just as equally ridiculous, just to feel better about herself.

The plane was cold, an offsetting tone to the heat that Ben was used to. He sat and waited as the plane, personal listening device plugged into the port, listening to his own type of music. As he glanced around, he noticed a scarred woman clutching a small pill with a colored piece of paper inside, looking anxious and worried. He scoffed and went back to listening to his music, not paying attention to anyone else, and thinking about how fast the training was. It was a large cocktail of emotions. He was quickly chosen to become this "Herald", that he had never heard about. The training was so fast, and yet he was so efficient with it, quickly surpassing even his own expectations, and now this.

Speaking of cocktails, Ben was getting quite thirsty. He grumbled to himself, unplugged the music, and pressed the drinks button. Near instantly, they hovered over to him, and in a "droning" nature, they stated, "We have non-alcoholic and alcoholic drinks, which would you like sir?"

He grumbled, in a low volume, and in rather grungy tone, he squeezed out, "I'd like an alcoholic vodka. An entire glass, the strongest you have," and like that, they rushed off to get what he ordered.

Again, they rushed out, just barely missing to spill the vodka he had ordered, and placed it down, "Have a nice flight, and thank you for gracing us with your presence." Ben wondered as they hovered away, and thought. Wow, I really am a really important person, but just as quickly as it came up, he brushed it off. He was going to the place he was going, with all these unfamiliar people, and he just wanted to see Raza, his EXO. He plugged in his music again, and droned into thought, trying to resolve all the things that could happen in his future.

As he sipped his vodka, he remembered all those memories in the past, and how they all led up, separating what mattered and what didn't. Seeing all the different paths his life could play out, and realized that this all happened for a reason.

But then, in that moment. That unbearable boredom, he just wanted some action. And that came to him quick. He wanted off soon.

Cyneric Abelli
Scout
Near the The Sky Mariner

---

Cyrenic scanned his new allies as they lined up into the Sky Mariner, a rather modest ship with both passenger sections and cargo sections. Several massive crates had already been locked in onto the railings, heavy equipment and supplies the scout assumed. He guessed their tonnage by the size of their containers and the heavy duty forklifts that were lying around, airport ground crew using them as seats while taking a break. EXOs and MEUs. Cyrenic knew that some of those could carry some serious firepower. He wondered if they were getting air power, VTOLs, bombers or jets, to fully transform this rag tag group of people into a combined arms force. Most of the others had no patches or insignias that gave away their former allegiance, and even Cyrenic was told to give up his patches. He touched his shoulder plate where the emblem of the Snowstone would normally be attached by velcro, instead, there was the understood patch of a combat controller. A globe behind a parachute, lightning bolt, and a star. Of course the job description of a combat controller was a little esoteric, but anyone who knew their special forces groups would know. The scout examined the others carefully, looking for patches, signs, equipment to see who was from where, but more importantly he was looking for other former-Snowstone troopers, and other combat controllers. He didn't do a very good job, a good portion of his new allies were in casual, formal, or semiformal clothing, only a few kept their armor or battle dress uniforms. Cyrenic himself was wearing his full kit.

He sat on the floor, his L90 LBR resting on the ground next to him to his right, unpowered, and a small expensive cooler in front of him. His group was called up to board the ship next, and Cyrenic got up on his feet, pulling his rifle up and pulling the sling over his arm and neck. It was a simple, one point sling. He let it rest on his chest. Next was the cooler, he carefully squatted and picked up the box, like it was the most valuable thing in the world. The scout pressed it against his rifle, ensuring that the weapon wouldn't sway from his steps. Then he took off towards the ship.

Aboard the The Sky Mariner

---

The interior was chilly, but he was comfortable with the cold. His scout armor was plenty warm anyways with all that heavy fabric on. It was one of the more fancy flights he had ever taken. He took a seat, as there weren't exactly seat assignments, resting his rifle between his legs and placing the cooler on his lap. Shortly after the vessel rumbled as the engines flared to life, and then take off. Pleasant acoustic music filled the mostly awkward silence. Only a few people quietly chatted, having found friends quickly. The music wasn't too loud as to drown out chatter, but it was audible enough. The ceiling lit up, displaying the ground underneath them. Cyrenic looked at it in wonder, and if he could whistle, he would have let out an impressed whistle. A few moments later the captain of the Sky Mariner spoke up into the intercom, “Hey there, folks. We've just cleared lift off, so you're free to roam about the cabin. Restrooms are in the back. If you want some refreshments, make an order using the interface on the arm rest of your chair and the drones will bring it over. We've got aqua fresh from the Guidewater, along with a decent liqour selection from the finest Oasis vineyards and breweries. But, uh, I'd chug those to a minimum. Don't want the God Child to wake up to a bunch of glazed drunks now, do we? We’ve got about an hour or so before we reach The Lotus Mirage. Sir Elric will be waiting for us at the hangar bay."

He rested his head onto the headrest of the seat, looking up at the holographic projection of the canyons. Captain Elric Zaitsev. Cyrenic pursed his lips, the Captain must have recognized him as Snowstone special forces. Cyrenic had no idea what other tests his new allies went through, but the grueling tests of endurance, agility, strength, marksmanship under stress and even specialized tests targeting his skillset specifically made him think that the Captain purposely bumped up the difficulty of the tests. There was the possibility that everyone had to go through the same things he did, but Cyrenic doubted that. Maybe the Captain wanted the best out of his former troops, Cyrenic blinked at that thought. He knew that soldiers who had particularly tough drill instructors ended up as exceptional warriors, even though they hated their instructors at the time of training. Perhaps Elric Zaitsev wanted to push him a little, sneak in a little bit of training? Cyrenic mentally shrugged at the thought. Maybe.

“Hey, what are you giving the God Child?” Someone asked him suddenly. Cyrenic, pulled out of his train of thought about his former Captain, looked to the voice quickly, taken aback by the sudden interaction. He blinked at the woman, she looked rather unprofessional. Haircut not to regulation, visible tattoos, but the massive scar across her face implied something else. If she passed the trials, then she must be an experienced hunter or warrior of some sort. He glanced down at his grey and white colored cooler, back at her, then at her capsule. Was it some kind of ancient scroll? A lost piece of art from a long dead artist worth untold amounts of wealth? Was it incredibly rare? He had heard of flowers that bloom only in specific conditions, spices that take a full decade to fully be completed. He looked back down at his cooler, he had a cake anyone could get at a bakery. He looked over his seat, arching his back to get a few more inches, and tried to glean what the others had but at a glance he couldn't tell much. Despite his face being concealed by his helmet, it was clear that whatever certainty he had of his gift before was now shattered. He slowly turned back to her.
"Ah-" He inhaled, "Uh. Well," he glanced away for a split second, "A cake." He blurted out. The scout cleared his throat, "It's a really fancy cake." he followed up quickly, trying to find the words to make his cake sound more impressive and exotic but failing. He looked away sheepishly and paused, well that went well, he thought to himself. "... Why, what did you bring?" he asked, a little defensively.

Sullick boarded the Sky Mariner, a ship clearly built more for the average hume than his own race. There were varying races but the majority lacked the size and bulk that came with being a Südkharri. While these races sat comfortably in the seats provided, Sullick had to settle for a low hand luggage rack towards the back. He sat himself down with his armour still on, not understanding why anyone would be outside of their house in anything but armour given the state of the world. Either way, it wasn't for him to judge others choices but to ensure that whatever was asked of him was carried out to the best of his ability.

Once everyone had taken their seats a drone approached him, "Excuse me sir, you must take a seat." Sullick raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet, the advanced piece of tech hiding his clearly confused expression. The drone persisted, "You cannot sit in the luggage rack for take off." Sullick finally spoke, his voice serious in tone and clearly not hiding his agitation. "So my dear drone, where do you suppose I sit? I am clearly to big for the seats provided.". The drone moved closer to Sullick's face, turning a spotlight onto him in an apparent sign of anger. "You must move to a seat or find yourself ejected from the flight." The filters within Sullick's helmet adjusted instantaneously with the light to ensure that he could still see clearly. He let out a sigh and pushed himself from the luggage rack.

He found the nearest aisle seat and took hold of the arm rest. He gripped it with one of his upper arms and with minimal effort wrenched the side of the chair off. "Oh dear, sir you cannot do that." Sullick threw the side of the chair over his shoulder and let out a laugh. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you told me to move." Sullick sat down, his backside only half on the seat. He looked around where he was seated, poking at random buttons to see what they did. He eventually brought up a holographic screen in front of him that gave him the option of localised music. He scrolled through the options before settling on a band that he had discovered recently. After a few minutes of the drone behind him talking to itself about the damaged chair the captain announced take off over the loudspeaker.

Even though his appearance was somewhat intimidating and sometimes his actions a bit out of the ordinary, he was a caring individual. It hurt him to have to tranquilise Korvo so that he could be put into storage with the various EXO's and MEU's, he was like family having raised the large beast since birth. Korvo was a Korragan, a massive herbivore whose body was covered in thick armour plating. Much like Sullick, Korvo's appearance betrayed who he really was. While on a battlefield he was the enemies worst nightmare, off it he was extremely playful. They had dealt with bandits and raiders many times over the years, even being involved in some larger fights when caught in the middle of larger conflicts. Wherever Sullick went he made sure that Korvo was well looked after and made no bones about what he'd do to someone who mistreats him.

Once in the air Sullick stood up and stretched, being on his feet was infinitely more comfortable than squeezing onto the seat. He looked about the cabin and noticed the drone from earlier earlier looking at him, it was almost as if it was scowling at him. Sullick turned away and began to look at those around him, he fully expected someone at some point to say something to him given that he stood out like a sore thumb. Being 7'1", having four arms and weighing over 300lbs meant he wasn't one that could easily hide in such a confined space.

K8C93 Kate

---

---

There was a certain expectation that K8 was holding to. She arrived far earlier than the other passengers in order to get first choice of where to sit on board the Sky Mariner. This wasn't out of some attachment to an isle or window seat, as she cared not for where she sat, but others did according to previous observation on other flight craft. It appears organics usually had a preference to not sit in the middle and without knowing the layout of the Sky Mariner, K8 was prepared to seize a middle seat in an attempt to attract an organic to sit next to her. Conversation was her secret motivator to get an organic to sit next to her, since others have noted that she is still clumsy in dialogue.

Despite K8's initial expectations, the layout of the Sky Mariner was a fairly spread out system which came as a disappointment. Being let down was sort of an odd thing to feel but there was an inkling of that feeling as K8 just chose seat before speeding through some minor tests into the drone network on board. Technically without permission, she went ahead and took control of a few drones, having them fly in formation for awhile before relinquishing her hold, allowing the drones to resume work unhindered.

--

After takeoff, K8 had briefly inspected each organic that came on board. She wasn't a walking database so it wasn't like she was pulling up public records on them or anything. Instead, she tried her best to predict things about them and according to sources, they say organics did this too which was a nice sentiment if true.

The Südkharri had held true to one of K8's initial predictions in that the organic had an exerting disposition when he ignored the drone while ripping apart a center arm rest. However, this was deemed appropriate and therefore acceptable by K8's metrics. The organic did need the room and an arm rest, even if there were components inside, would not cause unrepairable damage to the Sky Mariner.

Seeing an opportunity, K8 leaned out from her seat and called the organic. Now it is important to note that K8's voice and movements weren't robotic. She sounded like a Hume female, albeit a bit monotone, and her movements were smooth and natural. Her face and hair even made for a very convincing mask but her identity was betrayed by the chips and faint scratches in her plating. "Südkharri. If that drone is presenting an issue for your enjoyment, I will take care of it for you. In exchange, you must reveal something private about yourself. Deal?"

K8 did not wait for an answer and instead took direct control of the drone and flew it into the restroom where she had it lock itself in the bathroom. "There. I have locked away the drone. You must now reveal something private to me." Organics shared secrets all the time and what better way to be like one of them to have secrets shared.

Sullick stared at the hume in front of him, studying with great detail as she spoke. He had spent alot of time around the species but there was something most certainly off about the person who had just spoke to him. More than anything it was the way in which she spoke that made him suspcious about the individual. As she began to clearly manipulate the drone he had recently spoken to, Sully began flicking through the various visual filters of his helmet and soon enough he realised what was stood before him. "There. I have locked away the drone. You must now reveal something private to me." Sullick bowed slightly as a sign of courtesy, still standing taller in doing so.

"That drone was only trying to do it's job, but it should have been able to assess the situation and realise that there was no way I would realistically fit into a seat." Sullick turned to the door, gesturing with his hand. "There are not many in this world who can do that without any sort of equipment. That means one of two things, you're either a modified hume or you're an AI." Moving his outstretched arm out in front of himself he reached out towards as if to present a handshake. "My name is Sullick, and my secret is that my eyes are an icy shade of blue with a faint glow in darkness..." It was very rare for Sullick to take his helmet off outside the confines of wherever he was resting, so the likelyhood any of these people would see his eyes was slim. "...it is a pleasure to meet you AI."

---

---

"Uh, well, it's a painting." She said. "Made by orphans. A God Child can't dislike something made by orphans, right?"

Nacia nodded her head as if she were answering her own question. When doubt started seeping through, she deflected back to the herald's gift.

"Did you bring silverware?" Nacia asked, staring at the cooler then back at the helmeted man. "You know, just in case the God Child wants to eat the cake right then and there. Come to think of it, I've never seen a God Child eat anything. Hope it likes cake."

The enhanced-hume was beginning to feel a little better about her gift. She nodded to the man, extending her cybernetic arm out for a handshake.

"Sorry, I've got shit manners. Nacia Jarno. Gunner." She stared at the familiar-looking patch etched onto the man's shoulder pad. "I've seen that before. Back when Zaitsev was running me through combat trials, he had me spar with a couple of guys that had that same patch. Tough SOBs I tell ya. What's it supposed to represent anyway? The globe, the parachute, the lightning bolt, and the star?"



Albert Gentry sighed as he was getting drone reports about his passengers, how the Südkharri gutted the center console of his seat, and how the A.I. hacked one of the drones to lock itself inside one of the restrooms. Al wanted to put The Sky Mariner on auto-pilot and give them a piece of his mind, but these were the heralds of the Sixth. Still, he couldn't resist. Nobody messes with his ship and doesn't, at the very least, get an earful for it. But just as he was about to initiate the auto-pilot, a communication frequency beeped in.

"Sky Mariner this is Icom. Do you read me? Over."

"Sky Mariner to Icom, I read you. Over." Gentry frowned. Icom? The Snowstone Commander and Fragment of the God Child?

"Hostiles are attempting to intercept your flight path from ground level. Request that you alter your course, dramatically. Sending recommended flight coordinates to you now. Over."

Albert's eyes widened, his many years of piloting instincts kicked in as he manned the controls. A private message winked into his eye, confirming that it was indeed Icom of Snowstone, Shirod's daughter and potential successor.

"Better strap in folks, might be some turbulence." Is all Albert said. He read the coordinates and made the adjustments on his console. The Sky Mariner rolled up and slanted to the side, its metal hull groaning as it lurched onto its newly altered course. Some of the drones lost equilibrium and spilled beverages everywhere. The exterior cameras of the ship zoomed down to the top of a canyon where a firefight was taking place. Albert enhanced the zoom even further. A group of unknown hostiles was seen opening fire on one individual.

Icom.

The ceiling projector showed the white-haired Snowstone Commander engaging the group. There were at least a dozen hostiles, some of which were armed with anti-aircraft weapons. The holographic stream momentarily glitched. Or did it? Was there a delay in the camera feed, or was Icom just that fast? The gunfire stopped. Bodies were laid broken on the ground.



All that could be seen was the lone woman in white, who turned and watched as the Sky Mariner flew away from potential danger.

"Uh, sorry folks. Just had to take a minor detour to avoid some... unpleasantness. We've got about 30 minutes or so left before we arrive at The Lotus Mirage. Try not to hack anymore of my drones, or rip out anymore center consoles until then, please."

Cyneric Abelli
Scout
The Sky Mariner

---

"A painting?" He replied, at least he wasn't the only one that brought something rather normal.
"Did you bring silverware? You know, just in case the God Child wants to eat the cake right then and there. Come to think of it, I've never seen a God Child eat anything. Hope it likes cake." She said.
"Ah." He simply replied, he never considered if God Children even ate, he just assumed they did. He hoped they did too. He cleared his throat, "yeah, plastic ones. Maybe I should have brought some fancy stainless steel ones." He thought aloud, "didn't think it was that important since, traditionally, you eat this cake with wafer cookies." Cyrenic explained.
"Sorry, I've got shit manners. Nacia Jarno. Gunner." She extended her hand. Cyrenic took it and shook her hand with a firm grip. "I've seen that before. Back when Zaitsev was running me through combat trials, he had me spar with a couple of guys that had that same patch. Tough SOBs I tell ya. What's it supposed to represent anyway? The globe, the parachute, the lightning bolt, and the star?"
"Cyrenic Abelli, Combat Controller. Well they put 'scout' on my papers, and everyone calls me a 'scout', and I can do scout duties, but still. Combat Controller." He introduced himself with a hint of pride and emphasis. He was proud of it, out of the whole Snowstone military only a handful of Combat Controllers were in active service, less than four hundred. He made the cut when so many couldn't. "It's the patch of the Combat Controllers, well, a formal one. Its our flash on our berets, and for a moment like this, normally my superiors would order me to slap on my dress blues and my beret. But since I'm not officially part of their army anymore, they can't tell me what and what not to wear." He explained with a toothy grin. "Ah, back on topic, the patch itself... well nobody ever told me. I was one of the youngest controllers to make it through the pipeline and somehow, as a unit, they all agreed to leave that bit of history out when lecturing me. Telling me to figure it out on my own as some kind of joke. So far I've got that the parachute represents the airborne infantry, and the star represents the pathfinders, which we evolved from." He pointed to the parachute and star. "To be honest it's kind of fun tr-"

Cyrenic was cut off by the intercom, their pilot informing them of some 'turbulence'. The scout quickly fastened his seatbelt then gripped the barrel of his rifle and held the cooler by its handle. He knew that tone of voice in pilots, that cool, calm demeanor that didn't suggest any form of danger. "I hate crashes." He muttered. He looked back to Nacia, "Better brace just in case." In just a few moments, the whole vessel rolled. Drinks spilled and glasses shattered against the ground. Cyrenic lifted his cooler and made sure the cake wasn't rattled around. He heard shouts of surprise from people who were too slow to strap in, or were too big to. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the ceiling holographic display had zoomed in on a firefight, that was quickly over in just a split second. The Sky Mariner leveled out and Cyrenic let his grip on his rifle and cooler loosen. After the pilot explained that there was 30 minutes left to their destination, the scout looked over to Nacia to check up on her. "You okay? We're pretty lucky to have an escort like that." cocking his head towards the ceiling.

Ben couldn't think this flight could get any more boring. The landscape below, ever changing, yet not changing at all. Just a repeating pattern easily identified with a few things to break up the monotony scattered about. As he sipped his vodka, everything around him seemed to cheer up, brighten somewhat. There was a strange looking creature he had never seen before in school, books, or anywhere else. As the drone commanded him around, he ripped out the central console. Ben guessed maybe he might want to socialize at some point, these people seemed quite similar in some ways to himself. He brushed off the thought as he watched as a few other people converse and listened in on there conversations. Some were trying to console themselves about there gifts, and putting them in a better light than in what they actually were. He looked at his own, and realized that no one really cares in the end, and who knows how the God Child would react to their gifts, but as he was to conclude this thought, the ever present pilot came and interrupted him. As the plane shifted, he moved his glass so that the liquid would not spill out, seeming to hold it sideways.

He peered out the window and saw a cold landscape. Had we really come this far? All Ben could ever remember were the deserts of his homelands, he had never seen snow before. He looked over at the fighting, and in an instant it was all over. He gawked in aw, even if it might not look like it to onlookers, he was quite shocked. He took another sip of his vodka, and placed it down as he heard the final words of the captain, and realized that the bathroom had been occupied for quite a while. He guess a robot got hacked by someone on board and locked itself inside.

Ben chuckled when the pilot also warned the beast to not rip out the armrests on the plane. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. He slumped into his chair, and tuned into some progressive house, his favorite genre. He relaxed slowly, and dozed away, snoring quite loudly, vodka still in it's holder.