[IC] [closed]

[Rockette]

Luan Fields — Battle of the Eagles.

---

Something, resonating, pinged within her breast as the capers and wails of the avians of might and splendor pierced the sky. Pain, and agony bathed their calls thick and wet in the throes of anguish and defiance, stubborn brutality and predatory inclinations baited them to continue this plight no matter how hopeless it was thus deemed. Evangeline's grip tightened thrice across Umbra, the registration of her grasp not coming to fruition as the gazed towards the Eagles falling and defying the strength of her comrades. Weapons were gleaming in the sun of Viera and behind her, she heard, and felt, the fear of the infantry in face of these collective powers. When the ping finally dissipated, it was thus replaced with a burning sting and Umbra spun deftly amidst her fingers, slicing the wind, spinning into a whorl of ebony and silver as she followed after Quill, memory and tactics compelling her to see their healer guarded. And, it was here, in the thickets of blood and plume of white, that she noticed something peculiar beneath the breadths of wings and talons, something that glowed ethereal blue and seemed to shine and reflect against the darkest of feathers. It created a chill down the ridged peaks of her spine, making her halt in her loping after their stationed medic and to review her discovery. She disengaged her visor temporarily to dispel the barrier of vermilion, and crouched down low, willing herself to become small to the predator as the azure threat seem to intensify and swell.

Evangeline knew to study and learn to dismantle the foe, to judge the tides and methods of battle to tear down the opposition with her elegance of death and perception. Her perpetual smirk was devoid on her countenance, a rare visual of spliced eyes glimmering with fissures of deadly grace and intention. Great wings continued to churn the air, stirring their calls of despair as they fought to bring down the SOLDIERS, despite all cues that indicated to ruin and death, and Evangeline would grant them such. She felt the compulsion to sunder their lives, to grant relief to their pain, it was tragic and beautiful and in that was a depression of sadness that such creatures had to pass. But, they were the enemy, and the enemy must sometimes fall.

One of the Eagles that loomed over two of the SOLDIERS she did not know, and Quill whom heralded her whip like a true dame of battle, reared itself high. Its chest deeply embedded with twins prongs of a lance, and the report of a blade having carved deep into its hide and one eye uselessly gaping and lined with scarlet tears. The Eagle still managed to rise, beak gaped wide in a terrible cry as its wings began to churn. Gargantuan gales were summoned, the aforementioned blue beginning to shine and manifest into a near white before suddenly winking out of existence as those powerful wings came together in the imitation of a clap. The action was hastened by something they had never seen or encountered, a line of pure, glowing luminescence suddenly rocketing towards the three SOLDIERS before it with the hollow pierce of thunder. Evangeline witnessed in a dawning mistake that she had not protected Quill, for once the line connected to the trio, a terrible gust was formed. It swelled and twisted, swirling around, tearing armour, hair, attempting to sunder them as she watched in near helplessness before she sprinted towards them. A terrifying wind tore through the threads of gold, disfiguring her former plait and tossing the tresses in a frantic glamour as she loomed closer.

She could not reach them, however, as the Eagle turned one, malicious golden eye in her direction. The eyes of the predator and the reaper melded into one, golden and blue crashing like sunsets on the sea until the black of the night swallowed it whole. And she could see herself within that gaze as it pinned her into place, daring her to strike. Intelligence thrived there, bridled with agony and a bestial nature she could not begin to fathom, and she arose to that silent stare with a challenge of her own. Evangeline paused, spear held before her and wore a grimace of an apology then before she trust forward, allowing her hand to slip just so into a depress of a switch, and heard — felt — the fracturing and splintering of bone. Umbra's emblazoned spear head never failed to strike true and with a vicious intent, the force of her impalement vibrating up the entire length of her arms, piercing to her shoulders and causing Evangeline to almost buckle against her weapon.

Blood stained the gargantuan bird as it thrashed in terrible throes of death, the reaper grasping dominance over its' soul and spirit and crushing the remains of its heart into a not—so—silent bereavement. Evangeline murmured apologies, various words and tones tumbling over one another as she leaned into the shaft of her spear, surrendering further into the Eagles' cranium with Umbra having been interchanged to its' full length. She shuddered, her endeavors not wasted as the vile, terrifying gust finally came to pass and she smiled, directing the blinding simper to the SOLDIERS and planted her foot against the Eagles' wounded neck to shuck out her weapon from the embrace of its skull. A sickening flush of membrane and tissue came free, bathed in a vicious red that tainted Umbra in leagues of rouge and black. She laughed quietly, expression peculiar as she threw out her inquiry of:

"You all right, yeah? Sorry about that, I mean, sad it had to die. But you know, at least you guys aren't dead. Right?"

An answer, though, she did not expect as she turned to witness the rest of the battle field. Her parrying with the Eagle had only last seconds, in what felt like minutes to her, and from where she stood she could witness the same blue glimmering and beginning to manifest in some of the other creatures. Her face fell and she gnashed her teeth into a grimace as she engaged her visor once more and the Libra Scan diagram glistened to life. Another gust like the former could, potentially, rip them all apart and she was beyond thankful for her armour and their own constitution to see this battle endured.

However. . .

Silent and deadly, elegant and almost artful in arterial spray; this was the masterpiece of a rifle, metal and sinew conceiving the result of death like lovers intertwined in thread of scarlet fate. Evangeline witnessed another Eagle fall, screeches of fury and pain eclipsing the wind as throes took the creature over. The cranium was beyond recognizable already, splintered and bloodied, bashed with a ruthless and blind rage. Evangeline glanced to the man responsible, his beautiful shield bathed in the taint of the fallen, he was righteous and almost glorious in the thick of battles, but she could witness a terrible wealth of sadness about him — as if he had something to prove. Her spliced eyes fell away from the SOLDIER she did not know and glanced to the Behemoth looming in the distance. The infantry soldiers were poised still, watching them just like birds of prey, and she didn’t like it. Brows surrendered over a bi—colour stare as another cry rent the sky asunder, more bullets flying true to their mark as an Eagle intended to swoop low, talons poised to take them all.

She saw the Eagle nearly fall, the pain submerged into the gold of its’ burning gaze flickering with the manic intelligence of heavens and too quickly she saw it swivel a massive glare towards the vehicle. She could almost witness the pieces coming together, the fallen flock, the evidence that two Eagles bore wound and death from the gaping holes that had impaled beyond feather and bone. The wounded bird shrieked, a wail that surrounded the entire battle field, it was a call of defiance, a battle cry that demanded vengeance and pain and the bird took flight, great wings glowing a righteous cerulean. Evangeline’s face countered into frustration, her lips twisting into an unbecoming frown.

“It’s going for the Behemoth!” She shouted, throwing out her limb, delicate fingers of deadly efficiency following after the avian in question that climbed higher into the heavens of Viera. And like a king before his throne: it cried and threw its beak wide in a terrible, shrill caper and immediately dove for the vehicle. But, she did not see Hally there until almost too late, she did not notice him simply gaping and observing the field like the true scientist that he had once been. Her eyes peeled wide as she saw the Eagle descend closer and closer, talons open, wings aloft, those jagged, serrated edges of its mouth yawning open. She screamed and ran towards him, summoning an agility that came with grace and fear, adrenaline that swept her ligaments into over drive as she tumbled and shoved past her comrades; ignoring James’ shouts of fury and battle, of Kain standing like the Sentinel he was, even forgetting that two of the Eagles remained, and were preparing their attacks for more. Evangeline dove, her shoulder driving into his sternum and her arms embracing him whole as the Eagle shrieked, wings coming together as that familiar white line bloomed and then winked out of the realm. The air from her lungs were immediately ripped away as the terrible wind surrounded them, she clung to Hally all the more and heard the terrible screams and shouts riding through the gale as the maelstrom also encompassed the Behemoth, tearing the infantry troops apart with ruthless whorls. Skin flayed, bones cracked and splintered, scarlet malice bathed the fields of Luan in red and for many years would that stain remain: the Battle of the Eagles.

Evangeline shouted, knowing very well that some of their fellow SOLDIERS yet remained aboard the multi-terrain vehicle and while bodies fell, she realized that she felt nothing — no pain. Her own life did not join the taint of the dead, and she glanced down to Hally pinned beneath her, noticing he too did not bear a single wound. The maelstrom died with the Eagle falling from the grievous effort and wounds, the massive force making the ground quake as it fell from the palace of the sky. The Eagles remaining attempted their escape then, the rest of their brethren having fallen, dying and lost, their feathers marking the field with blood and pain. The Eagles with James' found on its' spine bucked to throw him off, trying to climb the heavens to retreat as the Eagle who had intended on attacking John and Beatrice made haste in flight towards the spires of Esper Ridge, screeching for the other to follow. This battle was lost, with both sides suffering injury, bodies given to either opposition - it was their first battle, and the memory would last for both bird and man for a long while.

Evangeline suddenly fumbled away from Hally and fell back to her heels, unable to fathom what had occurred only seconds before the dawning realization. She had seen the gust tear around Quill and the wounded SOLDIERS, and yet she was unharmed? A terrible tremor shot up her arms and pounded into her shoulders until her eyes fell on Hally and rage immediately shot over her expression, disbelief violating the depths of her eyes as she reached forward and grabbed him by his shoulders, the very depths of her enraged soul sputtering out.

“What in the fuck are you doing?!”

BATTLE SUMMARY

.Eagle A uses its' Phantasm against Castor, Quill, and Sable.
.Evangeline pierces Eagle A's skull with Umbra, killing it.
.Eagle B dies from Dach's bullets.
.Eagle E suffers injury and attacks the Behemoth with its' Phantasm before dying.
.More than half of the infantry grunt soldiers die.
.Eagles C and F try to flee the battle scene.

[Kefka Palazzo]

Cidolphus Escovane

Twenty Seven | 15, September | 6’0” | First Class
“They’re watching you die, and when you’re gone it’s like you weren’t even there…“

---

Battle of the Eagles - The Aftermath

---

Cid had watched it all.

His demeanor was calm. His face set in a still, concrete mask of nonchalance, his eyes locked on the eagle in the air. Massive wings churn with intent, sweeping broad strokes in the air to create a powerful gust. He felt the intent, as though the waves of hatred and rage that spiced the eagle’s blood where his to share, as though through some unknown form of shared existence he could feel the bitterness sat upon the majestic beast as it let loose the hold it had on its life and settled on the aspect of revenge. Oathkeeper was in his hands, it’s blade lowered to the ground, tip digging into the dirt, pushing deeper into the gravel and loosed dirt as he watched the attack building. The gales began to churn kicking up dust and debris from the battlefield, loosed dirt and fallen leaves, swirling in the terrible wind, giving pause to any that felt the strength of it’s winds. Cid wanted to call out. He wanted to warn the three whom seemed at the center of this creature’s rage, but something prevented him. He was compelled to silence, to watch with white knuckled grip on the oaken shaft of his glaive.

There was something else as well, something deep within. A feeling, like stretching after a long night curled. The sensation was powerful, a sweeping warmth that spread through his muscles, through the tense cords of his arms, the dense planks of his legs, through the very bones of his shoulders and the meat of his heart. It was powerful, exhilarating, intoxicating. The soldier’s mind drank up every breath shared between creature and himself, watched, as if in horrible slow motion, the wings rose and fell in their rhythmic flapping, until suddenly they came together. His eyes widened as the azure manifested, raced towards the trio. Cid’s grip on Oathkeeper tightened to white knuckles, not out of anticipation of what would happen to comrades he didn’t know, but in response to the ecstasy that coursed through his veins as though a fine drug. The thunder echoed off distant mountains, and Cid’s eyes turned, finally, away from the large beast.

And warmth filled him as an unknown power coursed through his skin. Never in his life had he felt so complete, so alive as he did in that moment. It was as though for those years of his life before this moment, he had been hollow, but never knew it. Fullness and tranquility combatted rage and a need for release, this new power calling from the back of his mind. Cid hefted Oathkeeper, as the Eagles prepared their assault on the Behemoth. Again the winds churn, this time the target too close to ignore for the slender soldier. Quickly he distances himself from the attack, moving just beyond its perimeter of effect. If someone asked him how he knew where the winds would touch, he couldn’t explain it. He saw the move once, felt its creation, its intent, and suddenly he understood far more about it than he realized. He felt…

Cid rose Oathkeeper above his head with a stiff, holding the glaive long in his outstretched, locked right arm. Instinct moderated his movements, as the weapon, serving as an extension of himself, became to rise and fall quickly, mimicking the flows and ebbs of the giant eagle’s movements. The elation that has only just relented began to resurface again, as the power began to course through his veins from somewhere deep within. And the wind around him began to churn. He felt himself moving faster, felt the muscles of his shoulders cry out in a swearing pain as the glaive stroked through the air, rising quickly and falling, time and again. Oathkeeper’s tip blurred to his eyes, a dim, azure aura taking host around its killing edge. Earthen eyes fixed themselves on the eagle, watching as the great beast let clap its wings, it’s attack unleashed, and it fell from the sky.

Shhh.. stop my love

The voice whispered through the swirling power in his mind, shattering his concentration with its presence. He felt an arm upon his shoulders, felt the power draining from his limbs to disperse into the universe, harmless unused potential. The winds around him faded, returned to normal, as he let his right arm down again, slowly this time, the tip of Oathkeeper digging once again into the dirt. It all faded, even as he felt the warmth of unseen arms circle around him from behind, the fullness of what he had been dimmed and winked out. Cid exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, feeling suddenly empty, spent. His mind reeled with what had happened. The questions began to formulate in the back of his mind, bouncing through the caverns of his skull as the voice again tore through his stillness.

“What was that?” he mouthed to the air, his eyes resting on the fallen eagle.

A loss of control… nothing more

[icmasticc]

S a b l e M a x w e l l

Luan Fields - The Battle of the Eagles

---

It felt good. The blade meeting the meaty hull of the eagle's neck was so supremely satisfying that Sable was silently surprised that a huge grin did not break out onto her face. Then she realized, underneath the helmet of her armor, a small smirk had indeed managed to escape. The violet hue of the Sabre Edge cut a straight line cleanly down the side of the monster's neck even though it fought through and rose into the sky anyway. Instinctively, Sable danced back a few feet and immediately retook her fighting stance. Everything was flowing perfectly. Her body was in tune with her mind and actions came through effortlessly. All that time spent training and practicing in front of mirrors was paying off at the moment. One of the detriments of solo training was that there was not an adequate representation of the fury of your opponent's retaliation however. It was not long before Sable caught a firsthand taste of this experience.

As the beast rose, Sable could feel her heart begin to jump. She could feel something coming. Her blood began to pump faster and her muscles tensed. Her head began to throb as well. She tried to shake it off, but it was no use. Her senses seemed to be hyper-sensitive. The beat of the eagle's wings became a thunderous clap louder than anything else in the vicinity. The scream of its call echoed far longer than it should have. The wind it was kicking up became stronger than anything less than a hurricane. She became acutely aware of her veins and the inner workings of her circulatory and respiratory systems in her own body. She could even begin to feel her own nerve endings and the synapses in her brain. It was a phenomenon that one could not describe in words, but the feelings were overwhelming. She stumbled back a bit, unable to fully concentrate on the predator preparing to unleash some sort of attack in front of her--until she forced her gaze to meet the giant bird.

An azure glow radiated around the silhouette of the giant enemy, but Sable could see more than that. She could see the skeleton underneath the hardened exterior. She could see organs and blood flow and muscle layout. She could sense the feelings and thoughts of the beast as it reared back. It was obvious that it meant to attack them, but something more hid underneath this apparent animal instinct. In the span of a few moments, Sable could... understand the eagle. She felt its emotions and intentions in a much deeper way than she could orate. As supernatural winds kicked up once more, this time much more violently, she immediately understood what was going to happen and why it was going to happen--why it needed to happen. And as an unknown rage and fury built up within herself, Sable could only stand and watch as the eagle unleashed a ferocious attack that cut at her even through the armor. The angry winds were relentless as they picked her up and threw her violently backward and sent her crashing into the ground, rolling a few times before sliding to a stop.

The pain was immense and Sable's helmet opened and retreated back into the neck plates as she lay on the ground breathing heavily and staring off into the distance. Her thoughts were centered on everything she had just felt rather than her aching body and checking to see if there was any serious injury. No amount of processing could break down this experience into something that she could understand. She had not just felt and seen the offense before it occurred. She had, for a brief moment, understood how it worked completely and even how the beast felt as it prepared for and unleashed this desperate last attempt at living. She had essentially become the thing she was meant to slay; she simultaneously felt the release of power and strength it took to form and launch such an impressive final offense while also equally taking the full brunt of said attack as the intended target. Both her body and mind were thrown into a confusion of physical anguish and mental insanity. How was this even a possible thing?

Sable laid there as she struggled to come to grips with what just occurred and as her eyes slowly closed and the darkness overtook the sights in front of her, the familiar voice returned once more. "You've finally witnessed their true essence..."

[Raijinslayer]

---

James Lockeheart, Luan Field, Couple Dozen feet in the air[/hr]

As the Eagle attempted to escape into the skies, James felt a surge of exhiliration enter his blood, smelling the beast's fear and panic with his finely tuned senses. This awakened the beast in him as it strained to break free of its cage. As he held on for dear life in order to resist the monstrous bird's bucking, he felt his breath grow more haggard as a dark force began to enter hus mind. Visions of ancient hunts and bloody feasts under the light of a black and red moon igniting his mind with primal urges. He hungered for the hunt, for the chase, and now, for the kill. He would not let this one escape his grasp, he would end it here and now . . . and to do that he needed to give into to his inner beast. Letting loose on final breath, he opened the gates.

Like a stampeding horde, the waves of dark emotion and predatory instinct ripped throygh his body, tearing his body apart with maddening pain. Underneath hus helmet,,his eyes took on a savage glow as he suddenly charged up the beast's back, making his way up to it's head, where it once more tried to throw him, but his grip waa too tight as he brought up his free hand and sent down blow after visicious blow upon it's skull. Soon, his fist was coming away with it's blood and the beast flight pattern began to falter, the blows to the head taking there toll as it's end was in sight. But that wasn't enough for the beast . . . it wanted more than this paltry offering of blood. Working it's will through James, the beast thrust it's iron claws forward, the strength in which they struck brealing through the base of the creature's skull with a brutal crack. The Eagle gave an aguished cry that only seemed to grow as James began to break open it's skull, pulling it apart with a savage roar, distorted and haunting as it rolled across the valley.

With one last push, the back end if the eagle's cranium burst open with a bloody squelch, bit's of grey matter flowing out asmit went careening to the ground. James quickly leaped off near the last second, landing with a harsh thud before he rose, his body shaking from the rush. His black armor was now dyed red with gore, adorned with feckled bits of the avian's gray matter here and there like dull pearl, glistening in the sunlight. And as James stood there, looking at his bloody form, the only thing he could manage was an uncertain laugh, straddling the edge between disturbed fear and dark insanity, it grew with each passing second, ringing louder and louder in his ears until he couldn't stand it anymore. His hands desperately clawed at his helmet, ripping it off and throwing it too the groind, the laughter still echoing bpth in his head and out his mouth. His gore-strewn hands tore at nis face and hair, painting it with the same red stain as he fell to the ground. His eye's were glowing, literally glowing red, and a dark blackness was suddenly rising from his body. It writhed and leaped in tune with his laughter, spreading further out to wreathe him in it's unholy embrace, framing his bent figure with a blackened ayra of corruption. Not only that, but it was spreading along the ground as well, killing the grass as it made it way across tne ground like an oozing pool of shadow. And throughout all of this, there was his laughter, a sound that sounded as if it were made from equal parts pain and pleasure. It was the laughter of the mad, and it seemed as if it would consume him, until suddenly, it stopped.

The darkness faded away as his form ceased it's erratic movement, resigning itself to the ground in a small heap of armor, flesh, and insanity. His eyes were still open, his gazed locked with that of his dead prey, it's golden gaze fixated on him. He'd been struggling to return the beast to it's cage, and it had stopped fightung the moment the creature had passed. It slunk back into it's hole, the cage doors shutting behind it. And yet, it smiled with contentment, for it had gotten it's kill, and even better, it had gotten it's slice of fear. For in the struggles, the thing that drove James so close to madness were memories returned to him of his life before. That was what the beast was, what it always would be, and what it would feed on as long as he was unaware of it. His memories, now forgotten again, were the key to uncovering it . . . and are now the key to mastering his new found power lay in taming the beast . . . in harnassing his pain into power for him to call on. But that is a mission for another day, for now, James is weak, the violent birth and use of his power draining him heavily of his energy. He could barely move right now, and in this case, it was probably for the better. Otherwise . . . he was unsure what he'd do, to himself or those around him.

Summary

James kills Eagle in violent manner, goes a bit insane due to unlocking his ability, before his trance in madness ends with him falling face first onto the ground.

[Hellis]

Something boiled inside the Sentinels head. Death was all around him, and all he could think of was Fire? But it was all he felt, the heat of fury. The flames of vengence. There would be hell to pay. Something inside him knotted around his heart. Chains of searing heat scorched it and somehow he knew that the only way to allevate it was to avenge the fallen. His comrades fought like possessed. Even the ones to whom they had arrived to aid fought. They turned the tides rather quickly, with Darch shots ringing out between battlecries and the sound of blades smashing into giant bird skulls. Around him he felt peoples flames go out. Lives snuffed out by the last desperate attempt from the eagles. And he realized this fire wasn't anger. It

No, it wasn't about vengence. It was about justice. Vengence was cold and corrupting. It drove people into madness. Justice however, was a flame that could not be snuffed.

These people didn't need vengence, that was not the nature of this tragedy. These people were crying out for justice. The situation needed to be put right. Before he knew why and what he was doing, he was running. The air coming from his nostrils seemed oddly hot, it was as if he was breathing steam. As if the fires that had been lit was trying to forcing itself up trough his pores. He ran right at the oversized bird that was trying to flee the battlefield. Trying to escape the chaos it had wrought. Trying to get away from what it deserved. That would not stand, that would not be allowed. Not today. Not ever. Kain would pass judgement on those that stood against their cause. He would burn them of the surface of the planet.

His muscles were like bands of iron, twisting and straining in his arm as he pulled his blade to the side of him while he ran. Teeth threatened to crack as he gritted them and gnashes them together. Everything in him was like a machine burning fuel at a incredibly rate and in hypereffecient manner. The eagle was gaining altitude when Kain reached a rock and did something incredibly, unbelievedly bullheaded. He turned his oversized sword onto its broad side and them smashed the rock like he was batting baseball. At that moment, the dull ember of his cigarette that had been glowing against his blade for so long, ignited into red hot fire. Scratch that, it burned white hot as he swung his blade. The clang was deafening to say the least, the force reverberated up the blade and into his bones, rattling him.

But regardless of pain and discomfort, the giant of a man made the rock fly in a feat of stupendous strength. The white flames seemed to latch onto the rock at the moment of impact, coating it and making it glow. The rock, now on fire, streaked like a comet towards the fleeing bird. It smashed into the wing of the eagle who crashed back against the ground, now on fire.

Kain strode towards it, his sword no longer on fire, the ember entirely snuffed out. The fire that engulfed the bird however, was still alive. The Eagle was dying to the flames , flailing best it could. Had Kain been out for vengence, he would have watched it burn for a while longer. Instead he lifted his sword, then let it slam down, slashing the creatures head clean of in one stroke.

It was only after the last of the flames died down the thought came to him. ”What the hell did that fire come from?”

[FantasyChic]

---

Luan Fields

---

After the Battle

It was truly exhilarating.

Quill never had to battle anything other than training bots and other students for training purposes. Her body felt warm and pumped as she danced around. Cracking her whip against the Eagles was more than anything she could have anticipated.

She kept one eye on the injured parties. Always the healer. She tried to put herself in between the Eagles and the wounded, but they kept on fighting regardless of their injuries. Quill had to give it to them, they were fighters. She worried their wounds would get worse, but she could worry about that later. Now they had to finish off the threat.

As her gaze left the Eagle, it's dying effort left Quill and the two fighting her target even more hurt. It's final push attack caused a pain that Quill hadn't felt before. She grunted against it, but felt herself being pushed back as the Eagle let out a cry and finally fell. She took a few deep breaths.

...

...

...

Her lungs were fine. She was sore, but she was alive. That attack left her winded. She knelt down and clutched at her stomach. She glanced around the battlefield. The dead on the ground, gone before their time, the wounded being hurt even more, her own injuries. It was a lot to take in.

Without notice, her eyes began to glow and she felt her back getting warmer. She stood up and her mind went blank. Anyone who was watching her would see what appeared to be Angel Wings form out of her back. They weren't real, but none the less, she had wings. Her eyes glowed white. She moved her hands forward and a silver sword slowly formed in her hands. Her face remained calm.

After the pop and circumstance, Quill let out a yell and slammed the sword into the ground. This left a quake that could be felt by anyone near. Those within the realm of would suddenly feel bolstered and better. They may have injuries, but they hurt a bit less. They felt the will to continue on.

After some time, the sword dissipated, her eyes returned to normal, and her breathing settled. She knelt there for a bit, contemplating what just happened.

Battle Summary

Quill just went Super Saiyan

[JJ Doe]

---

Luan Fields

---

In hindsight, he should have known the giant eagles would suicide attack a group of soldiers if and when their lives were nearing its end. Biological altruism at its finest. He had kept the possibility of the birds targeting the SOLDIERs farthest from the center of the battlefield —especially the absent-minded looking ex-scientist who was just standing there in the open without any armor to speak of— tucked away in the back of his mind, but when one critically wounded eagle came diving into the Behemoth’s direction, there was nothing that Hal, or anyone for that matter, could do about it.

When he first saw the signs, Hal had thought simply that all it meant was that he’d have to defend himself from the incoming attack. When he realized that there were foot soldiers right behind him that was when panic set in. He did try, though. Hal even had time to turn his head over his shoulder to shout at the people around him to run, take cover. He, however, underestimated the eagle’s determination. By the time he finished shouting and returned his head to its original position, the creature was almost at the Behemoth. From there, everything was in slow motion.

Despite the immediate danger being right in front of him, Hal’s eyes found themselves wondering to the figure behind the eagle: Evangeline running after the eagle with an expression that could even give Kain a run for his money.

A little girl comes running towards his direction —arms extended forward, hands desperately grabbing the air unable to wait for the moment that it would grab something tangible, eyes full of tears, and her mouth wide open as she sobs. She calls out to her sanctuary for protection from something beyond physical harm.

He reaches out to her to shorten the distance between them so that she could be one second closer to a warm embrace, a moment closer for him to whisper soothing words to her.

She jumps into his arms—…

… And Hal held Evangeline as tightly as he could when the deadly winds came. Although he was ultimately the one to get pinned down, he attempted to shield the blond from not only the winds, but also from the sight and sound of people being sliced into little pieces like food in a food chopper. Not that his attempts succeeded.

When both the wind and screams of anguish died out, the two SOLDIERs finally freed each other from their embrace and looked at one another to see how much damage either one had taken, which turned out to be none. Hal furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to what had spared the two from the ugly fate that fell upon the unfortunate soldiers.

Evangeline did not give Hal much time to deliberate over the phenomenon as she suddenly scolded the older man, “What in the fuck are you doing?!”

“Oh my,” Hal gasped overdramatically, “such language! Where did you pick that up from? Have you been hanging out with the wrong crowd?”

If this had been any other circumstance, if there hadn't of been death waiting to strike them both in the form of wings and gales that tore people asunder: she might have laughed. But, as the situation had provided, she did not and the perpetual tilt of her mouth only seemed to twist and conform to an enraged snarl as more of her disbelief quaked into the depths of her eyes.

"I - what?!" She screeched, confusion bleeding over into her rage, blending the two into a glamour of utter despair and fear. "You were just standing there!" Evangeline accused, sweeping armoured limbs out wide to gesture to the entire field. "You!" Small fingers curled and cinched tightly into fists that lashed out in fury. "Idiot!" The first punch descended, hammering against his shoulder. "Did you not see the big." The second punch fell onto his chest. "Fucking bird coming towards you!?"

“OW! OW! Bubbles, I bruise easily! Ow! Oww…” Hal rubbed his shoulder and his chest, simultaneously, “I know who you’ve been handing out too long with… Honeybun. Jeez. Next thing you know, you’ll be beating me to death just for saying good morning.” When another fist threatened to hit Hal again, he quickly added, “Okay, okay! Yes, I was standing around, but it’s because you guys obviously didn’t need me out there! You were kicking ass! Plus, you know I can’t fight! I just thought it was better for the team if I just hanged out in the back! Can’t say it quite went as I thought it would haaave…” His eyes drifted towards the bloody mess the creature had left behind before it perished, but not for long.

She listened to him quietly, almost sullen, her cinched fingers trembling in throes of anger as they thrust and rested on her thighs, each word he sputtered and exclaimed making her brow knit together and her lips to quiver in both frustration and another emotion that she would not admit to: fear.

"You're such an idiot, Hally!" Evangeline woefully cried, her fingers immediately grasping fistfuls of facial hair, bring her burning, mismatched stare close to penetrate into his own gaze. "I'm here to protect you, remember? What am I supposed to do if you were..." There was a pause, heavy, inflicted with memory and the fog of something.. more. Something that she could bring herself to speak aloud or utter, not even in a personal whisper. Thus, her grasp loosened and she carefully spread out her searching touch and felt her palm across the hilt Umbra - still tainted in the life of the Eagle she had taken - and brought it, thrust, against her breast: silent.

Familiar hands planted themselves onto each of Evangeline’s cheeks and a soft voice called for the woman’s attention, “Evangeline.” Once fairly certain that he got her attention, Hal closed his eyes and leaned his head down, making their foreheads touch each other. He did not allow himself to continue speaking until his felt the muscles in Evangeline’s body relax. “And you kept your promise. You did protect me. I'm standing right here, alive, because you did.” Both knew that the strange phenomenon of a SOLDIER not being affected by the eagle’s attacks was not limited them —Quill, for instance— and there was no evidence to suggest that Evangeline had caused the phenomenon to happen in both instances, but Hal insisted, “You saved me, Bubbles, and you were bad ass at it.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Thank you for protecting me.”

Her brow appeared to knit even closer, lashes thrown wide as the wealth of memory and habit came to and visibly cajoled and seduced her fury. Her grasp a hold of her dear Umbra loosened, slack and almost useless as her gaze riddled with emotions incapable of being uttered too began to shut. His words seemed to seep through her pores, every muscle visibly relaxing under his soft utterances and reassurances that she had, indeed, saved him. She knew that Hally had taken stock and recognized that they had not sustained injury, either due to their position of her clamouring to envelop him into her protective embrace, but to inquire of such a phenomenon was not a luxury they could afford. The aftermath was staggering and the capers of wild Eagles told her that some had remained yet.

Evangeline quietly withdrew, lashes slowly beginning to rise until she met Hally's gaze with her bi-coloured stare and, slowly, allowed a cheek-caving smile to wreath her face in cheer.

"Of course I was bad ass! What else would you expect?" She boasted, laughing in her obtuse mirth and pride. She bounded up to her heels, her movements fluid and sudden and no longer hampered by her fear and sorrow. She twirled Umbra through her gestures and carefully swung the butt down, the hilt mere inches from Hally's nose.

"Remember for next time, you idiot. Get down and out if someone comes at you, and let me do all the bad assery killing! Okay?" She drawled, almost lapsing into a jaunty little tune as she playfully knocked him with her fist, letting it curl against his cheek in a playful box before she began making head towards the Behemoth, trying to dispel the jitters that made her gait hesitant and slow - as if wary of approaching the dead as she left Hally behind.

He lets the little girl go, despite knowing what will happen to her if he did. This is why he could never be her white knight; he could not, cannot, and never will be able to protect her —anyone. He can never truly be her sanctuary, no matter how many times he wishes he could have been… he knows the truth: it is he who should be slain by the white knight. But maybe then…

[Noxious]

_____________________________________________________________________________

Luan Fields; The Sacrifice of Allen Thomas
_____________________________________________________________________________

A walnut rimmed pupil exchanged millimeters for focus, seemingly gasping through the modified scope that traced along the mountain backdrop. The nut hue flickered with a foggy ice that mirrored darting perspective captured within the scope. The encumbered yet enhanced view failed to relinquish the sanctity of ancient mountainous overlords; plummet coaxing gray, deeper than granite, reeling out of bright frozen tinsel and a void of statuesque and enduring repose.

She gave no notice. A singular demand had enraptured her thoughts; weighing heavily on an insidious vision as it rippled through grandiose scenery to capture a straying elevated fowl. Point of convergence came for her mind, a tenacious line drawn with a pale aura between herself and the target. Fingers, specifically the trigger, quivered with an electric devoir, but an agitated and louring shriek resounded and threw her; calling like a mighty corrupted siren.

She headed the call, the barrel sifting through a blur of activity just as her knockout rifle released a shrill notification of the incoming threat; capturing the penetrating eagle in a blinking radiant crimson. She caught sight of the livid eagle in corresponding tempo and immediately relinquished hold of the weapon. An eloquent slur escaped from her lips to drift about the creeping silence, a piece of media fractured so that she would likely be remembered by such poignant final words,“Shit.”

Her body lunged, led by fingers that scrambled towards the latch. “Prepare for impact!” Her warning would slip into nix, a dim lighthouse misplaced in time so that it’s purpose was refurbished maliciously into a body tightening discord, if experienced at all. Her own chassis was intently engaged on the latch system she had recently dismantled. She got one section recoupled and clamped before a bleaching white light shattered into existence and near blinded her own.

There was an instant as she remembered things that were not hers to recall, stolen for herself somehow in a viscid manner, one she could not recollect; a loving family, open arms that smelled of kinship. Then Allen surrounded her, his body encompassing her shoulders and modest form, petite in the face of oncoming disaster. He dragged her beneath him and she in turn grabbed her favored accomplice as the cosmos twisted about them. The air became the universe, gapping and expansive as it drew from them, atmosphere entwining and repelling as if they were crashing.

There was a soul wrenching spasm as zero gravity,
designated to the void of traversed space,
shifted into an unwelcoming and frigid atmosphere;
horror agitated by crash landing into captivation.

The experience was an overwhelming firing of synapses so that she gleaned over apt introspection on that last thought and its origin; though she, or it, somehow arranged for the ability to feel guilt over such a paltry comparison, one she could barely comprehend in the infinite and brief seconds she had as her Allen cocooned carcass drifted through the atmospheric tidal wave in this metal coffin. It flitted out of her mind just as the tumbling ceased and an obsidian haze consumed her consciousness. Sights and sounds that would haunt her fellow soldiers became incongruent whispers and barely resonating clashes in a womb like mist.

Get up. The empathetic urging bathed over her, wiping all prior speculation clean. An insufferable beeping resonated against her temples. Fist and digits constricted and released, experimenting against the still humming particle rifle. The wind had ceased. In a clash that mirrored the eagle bearing down upon them her facilities cracked upon her like their healer’s glistening whip. Heavy lids and bruised facial muscles gasped into the crumpled body of her bunker mate. She shoved fiercely at the mangled corpse, tossing him aside as her lips continued to inhale in stinging and rigid succession.

“Fuc…” The words failed to come to fruition as a grievance flared across her cheek, tenderized and bruised by her cradled friend so that the color was already recasting to a competition of sallow green, charcoal blue and midnight indigo. Spidery digits etched across her battered cheek as she strained to haul herself into a sitting position. She gave little thought to the blessing of survival and instead exalted the overwhelming soreness of her body. The entire Behemoth seemed to be emitting sharp merciless tones that did little to abate the weariness enraptured outlook. Stoic warning bells corrupted and screaming to toll the present reaper rather than facilitate reaction.

Her body finally vertical and leaning heavily against the still breached bunker wall canted marginally so that Allen entered her focus. She conceded a frown that tugged at her pounding cheek as she took in the rapidly paling eyes, locked open and staring so that she witnessed death demand the light of his soul. He had earned this minute strain of her shattered cheek. She reached towards him with trembling fingers and touched upon his awkwardly placed hand; still warm with blood that began to seep from his parted lips, his ear cavities and tear ducts. She made no move to exit the bunker, she felt sanctimonious in her loss and intended to give Allen and herself this moment and thus ignored the shouting and chaos below.

Summary

& Tries to save the bunker
& Allen (Jacob) is affected by her ability
& Sacrifices himself to save her
& Dach has a shattered cheek bone, overall soreness
& Possible internal bleeding, concussion
& Sitting in the bunker with the dead guy

[Rockette]

Luan Fields — The Aftermath.

---

She had been sired on death and ruin before, all SOLDIERS were literally bred and cultivated for these finalisms of battle conduct and destruction; wrought by their hands and the endeavors of their foes marred already by the woes of the reaper. But, standing erect over the shredded membrane of someone that flayed over twitching muscle and splintered bone was an experience that no drill, sequence or matrix input could properly formalize. In the remains of man she witnessed through the entrails a macabre series of anguish, despair wreathed in matters of crimson sorrows spread aloft on the wings of majestic fowl and wind. Evangeline's beloved Umbra displayed as a sentinel against the sun of Viera that was beginning to descend, the massive star encroaching further to the peaks of Esper Ridge where it awaited for Eagles that would never return to her spires. Quietly, her spear swirled down, twining through the remains with the emblazoned spear head providing the bedlam of chemistry as the blood of the infantry youth and the Eagle's desaturated remains combined through the alloy.

So many have fallen. . .

Evangeline summoned her reflexes and pirouetted on the heel of her boot, digital frequencies sputtering to life in the media of voices and screams, each utterances propelled by signatures of pain laden in each cadence sputtered from their lips. Hydraulics hissed to life in the following sequences, the Behemoth groaning with the damage taken from the wrath of the terrible bird. The hatch yawned open from previously sealing shut to avoid the inner mechanisms from being wrought useless. The realization that they had sealed the fate of those who could not retreat into its' bulk crested over the hill in her consciousness, remains to the evidence that they had been allowed to die to preserve the innards of the vehicle rather than their fragile hearts. Injustice, is what manifested beyond perpetual cheer and indulging simpers, and bi—coloured eyes mirrored the wrath she should have conceived much like earlier at the death wish of her beloved, but instead she could not foster the concern, or care for those now gone. Not a blemish was located on either of them, nor scratch, and dexterous digits went bone-white at her knuckles from the wealth of sudden empathy swelling inside her breast.

. . .Death happens, remember that.

Perhaps it was the report of the collateral damage that fixated her soul in a vice, or that — by the span of her eye — two of their comrades had fallen by exhaustion or injury. However, it remained that the Lieutenants were entirely too casual and nonchalant as they palmed through remains, turned bodies by their splintered shoulders and broke the chains of their tags for their collective. Evangeline turned away from the demented filing, the butt of her spear impaling through tainted soil by the grinding twist of her grasp, palm and skin burning and nerves screaming with the abuse that she could not feel. But, she could not forget that horrendous, manic laughter though was the grace that vocalized the entirety of the battle, manifesting literally in a blanket of pure, sweltering darkness akin to that which had tied and bound her heart. The blonde Saboteur took an involuntary step forward, and then back, her muscles fumbling with the electric impulses of her mind that could not concrete and fortify her will and desire to move towards the man responsible for such dementia.

And there is a wonderful luminescence that beckons to her; it's warmth, wonder, benevolence bidden by the shine of ethereal grace.

Evangeline's eyes rapidly blinked, attempting to dispel the illusion of feathery grace and might that had been there only seconds before, Quill shining like a beacon of hope in the midst of chaotic remains and blood and impaling the ground with a sword that rivaled the utility and power of every weapon brandished at hand. Her hand lifted, palm out and attempting to shutter the light that had eclipsed the field until it finally dissipated, leaving the silver healer in wonder. And she, true to her academic nature examined the rest of the SOLDIERS and the — what word could compound the might of their souls — exhibits of prowess some had suddenly shown. There were many inquires, a myriad of fascination and confusion that also fixated her own perplexity at what occurred here in the field. She knew that every SOLDIER broadcast a certain affinity for warfare and some were awarded with individuality in concerns to their might; but this... This went beyond conventional ability and skill at the swing of a blade.

Evangeline's gesture finally lowered, slowly and carefully, to witness the truth and evidence that all of the Eagles were destroyed and thus, left to rot in the Viera sun. She swung around back to the Behemoth, knowing some of their comrades had remained at the bunker, had they avoided injury and ruin? She desired, almost desperately, to lash out inquiries and amazement to what the battle field had yielded to them all, but the presence of the Lieutenants immediately shuttered off that near lunacy to find answers to the plight that plagued their minds.

"We need to continue onto Zalera if we're to get you to the drop site in time, SOLDIER 155-7436-SB001." One spoke, voice eclipsed and a mere gruff murmur by the plate of his helm and mask. To be addressed as a number, an identification, rather than any of her given appellations made her lips arise and curl, the illustrious simper of her infamy carving dimples through cheeks.

"Oh, of course! Must not delay the quest!" Evangeline chirped, spinning Umbra through her digits, fingers fluid and almost purposely careless before her thumb punched, depressing a switch, and the spear clanked and whirred to its original measurements before she allowed the mechanism at her spine to holster it. "Since you're done picking at the remains of your infantry, I guess we can leave now, yeah? No reason to stay! We got this now." She thrust her index finger of her shoulder, proudly displaying the decay beginning to fester in the fields. Each of the Lieutenants spread out, addressing the SOLDIERS individually, indicating that they had to hasten departure — given no time to contemplate the aftermath or the results of the feud, no luxuries were awarded to killers warriors.

"Right... We ran a message to the base in Mrihl, and to Dalmasca, relaying the... new additions." He carried on, playing over her exuberance with a quiet performance of clearing his throat. "So far, no transmission has been returned and suspicions of their placement have been briefed, the President has ordered they travel with you to Mrihl before returning to the Base for interrogation."

"Suspicions of what?" She muttered, carefully glancing through the chaotic threads of her hair to glance at the trio on topic.

"Among them is a SOLIDER with a.. history. His father was a deserter, labeled a SeeR sympathizer. Their discovery has gained some particular interest." The Lieutenant supplied, indicating briefly to the man in question that Evangeline defined as the original owner of the unique, two—pronged spear that had impaled the Eagle that she had reaped. Her face fell, contoured into curiosity, before her grin bled across the interest.

"Right, of course." She beamed, rejoinder laced in sarcasm and quip before she loped around the Lieutenant, calling out for Hally and the rest of the SOLDIERS whilst they engaged with their retrievers. Evangeline followed up the ramp of the vehicle, pondering on the fact that only moments before she had flipped out over this incline to herald the succession of battle and blinked, almost owlishly, at Cid before her countenance fractured into brief alarm and the memory of peering azure that struck her to the depths of her very spirit. She immediately ducked, slim fingers retracting back and palming through golden threads to assemble the gale—torn disarray it had become, to occupy her gestures and balm her erratic infections sired from both his presence and the death suffocating the fields of Luan.

Aboard the Behemoth — Checkpoint of Zalera.

---

Those wounded had been attended to with basic functions of medicine, appliances of balms and careful patches to conceal wounds with the promise that full infirmary privileges would be provided in Mrihl. The check point at the border of Luan and Zalera was brief, but the atmosphere was dreaded and weighed heavily, many of the infantry grunts were dead, more than half sacrificed and burned. Upon their departure, the Lieutenants had taken special capsules from their ebony coats and detonated them upon pressure and friction, setting flame to the remains of Eagles and man alike. Evangeline found it proper, to decimate all traces of the battle, but found a hint and reflection of sorrow in the action of literally erasing them to naught but ash. She did not voice such aloud, taking to reclining against Hally for the duration of their journey into the tundras of Zalera. The paneling of screens shimmered in hues of indigo and violet, darkening to sullen ebonies as the sun of Viera descended and the moon heralded within place, a pale silver sphere suspended in the blanket of gloom and stars.

The temperatures in Zalera were obvious in the peculiar frigidness that had settled in the hull of the Behemoth, making Evangeline curl up tighter against Hally's flank as the drivers signaled out with their voices at each crossing of a small town or city. The roads here beginning to bear evidence of their machinery—crafted origins by stone, and sometimes, blackened rock. Originally, they were to be given halfway into the frozen climate and to trek the remainder of the destination on foot, however, given the circumstances of the wounded and time allotted, the Lieutenants and provided drivers had proffered, through hesitation, to see them entirely to the borders of Mrihl. It appeared like hours, each increment of time spanning into near eternity that almost drove Evangeline near madness until she surrendered herself to rest, sleep dragging at her lashes until she succumbed.

There was silver feathers suspended into obsidian tar; and a gargantuan eye that wept poison and a mouth riddled with needles; but there was no fear here. Only wonder. . .

Zalera Tundra — Mrihl.

---

The whirs and clanks of machinery became the announcement of their official arrival, the cheerful and perpetually thrilled blonde rousing from her rest with a small grimace at the kinks in her neck. Only slow rotations of the muscles bundled there providing any comfort as the visual feed of Mrihl's borders illustrated to their viewing pleasure. Evangeline unbuckled the harness fixating her into place, approaching the panels once more to peer at the port—town slumbering idly into the night. Few lights flickered to life, orange glows dotting the landscape and leading a fascinating trail to the manor that, she assumed, belonged to the Baron that would be providing them proper lodgings. The prospect of rest was alluring, but she doubted she'd be able to garner any sort of slumber in the comforts of a bed, it was surprising enough she had managed to gather small moments of reprieve in the Behemoth, but she supposed she owed that entirely to Hally.

A pair of the Lieutenants descended into the hatch then, helms ominous as one of them moved around Evangeline and punched the ramps controls, allowing the door to squeal open and the ramp to drop. Silence blanketed the gathered warriors of Galbadia, not even the usual source of cheer and bright simpers providing any of her quips and laughter to the situation at hand. This was the initial introduction of their mission, this is where everything would begin, this is where they would commence to prove their worth at the bereavements of fellow man instead of fantastical creatures of winged admiration and terror.

The Lieutenants vacated the vehicle first, followed by Evangeline and the rest of the assigned crew that slowly made way into Mrihl, crossing the threshold of the town's borders and swiftly marching the streets towards the manor of the Baron under the blanket of the latest hours that was suffocating in its darkness.

The manor was indeed wreathed in splendor and befitting to the town, it was of older origins and time, almost vintage in the masonry and woodwork displayed in the flickering glow of the lights lit for their convenience. The doors slowly yawned wide, creaking on hinges and allowing a glimmer of light to shine on down the steps of stone and to the contingent of SOLDIERS gathered at the base where the street was flush with the method of entry. The Lieutenants performed salutes and dips of respect, in which Evangeline bothered naught to repeat, but only to examine the sounds slowly encroaching from somewhere in the manor, approaching at almost a luxurious pace. Bi—coloured eyes narrowed, carefully at the inceptive introduction of not the Baron but a man that could only belong in her own ranks: a SOLDIER. He was tall, elongated like many of their particular troupe, broad in every aspect and glamourous to her appraisal. Sheathed in armour, he was imposing, but the depths of eyes bespoke of an inter laden kindness and cheer that could champion and reflect to her very own.

"Oh my..." A quiet voice spoke aloud, following up behind the SOLDIER Evangeline had wed her examination to. The Baron of Mrihl was a peculiar man in appearance, lanky, tall — towering like Kain — and simply all joints and marrow sealed in an ecru complexion. Ebony hair was twined down his spine in a thin tail, small pieces fallen away to frame high—set cheeks bones that cradled eyes of a cavernous greenery like the forests located in Baanga. "I wasn't expecting this number of SOLDIERS." He carried on, descending down the steps with his own SOLDIER following in pursuit: a guardian then, Evangeline deduced and regarded him as such before the Baron spoke once more.

"This is.. only slightly problematic, but fixable. You all look entirely exhausted." His eyes swept over the remains of blood, flaked, and those still bound with wounds before the proportions of his countenance split and fractured at the obtuse grin breaking across. "Come inside, please, we'll see you tended to and bedded within the hour."

[AmongHeroes]

Luc stood at the window, peering down to the quiet streets that led to the Baron’s Manor. His cool blue eyes worked slowly across the chilly city, as the cogs of his mind whirred in steady rhythm on the problems of the day. Regaled in his heavy armor, Luc clutched his massive hands over the collar-rim of his breast plate. It was a position of rest which lent itself well to the task of waiting and wondering.

The barony had received word that the contingent of SOLDIERS from Dalmasca had fallen under attack, and that their arrival had been substantially delayed. Initially there were few details of the event, and even less so of the disposition of the survivors. Luc had enough experience in combat to know that there would plenty of casualties that required attention; be it medically or simply comfort for exhaustion. As the Baron’s trusted personal bodyguard and security officer, it was easy to convince his lordship of the necessity of extensive preparation. Luc only hoped that the relatively humble estate could handle the SOLDIERS’ demands—Mhril was no Dalmasca.

It had been some six months since Luc had been sent to the strategic port city with orders to organize the barony’s defenses, and protect his lordship. Luc had taken to the task with alacrity, feeling his new and dutiful purpose swell pride within him as he crossed the border into Zalera. At first the cold had tried its best to dull the edge of Luc’s optimism over the prospects of his posting, but an intrepid spirit honed with the real prospect of danger, gave Luc the impetus to not cede his passion.

From the moment he had arrived in Mhril, there was work to be done. The lands surrounding the city proper had become more frequent targets for the monstrosities of the outer tundra, not to mention the threat of SeeR incursions. The small force of grunts and regulars stationed to protect the barony were hardened men and women. What they lacked was guidance and leadership. That was where Luc found his purpose.

In short order, Luc had managed to reorganize the regulars into a more manageable and responsive fighting force. He beefed up security around the key intersection of the port and canals, as well as staged the deployment of more effective patrols to the outer reaches of the barony. Mhril’s security forces had become proactive, and as such, attacks in the countryside had dropped dramatically. Luc himself had led more of those patrols than he could recall, and he valued the hard-won experience highly. Yet, as effective as he had been at rebuffing the beasts that threatened Mhril, the growing threat of SeeR operatives posed a more elusive problem.

The click of boots behind him on the oaken floor brought Luc from his reverie. Looking from the window, over his armored shoulder, Luc regarded the young grunt that now stood at attention in the frame of the doorway.

“Sir, we’ve received word from the outer units that the SOLDIER contingent has just moved into the city. They are making their way to the manor now.”

Luc, nodded and smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he did so. “Very good. Thank you, private. Please inform his lordship of the news. I’ll meet him the foyer to receive our guests.”

The private gave a quick “Yes, sir,” and a salute before spinning on his heels. Luc watched the man go, chasing the departure with an introspective sigh. He knew not what had brought more SOLDIERS to Mhril, but Luc knew it did not portend good things.

Reaching down, Luc pulled his warhammer from its place in the corner of the room. The weapon was four feet in length from pommel to tip, and ensconced in matte black enamel. Its octagonal hammer surface was pocked and scarred from combat, as was the conical spike that made the reverse of the weapon’s head. Hefting it, Luc took comfort in the familiar weight of the thing, before spinning it expertly to attach diagonally across his back into the purpose-built mag points of his armor. He left the room without his massive rectangular shield however; it was unwieldy indoors, lest one desired to block an entire hallway.

Luc met the baron at the foot of the main stairs, and gave the lord a quick salute in greeting. The tall, spindly man accepted the greeting with a harried wave of his hand.

“The times in which we find ourselves…” the Baron said, continuing past Luc towards the front entrance. “SeeR’s creeping around our corners, and even traveling across the country is becoming a dangerous prospect it would seem. For SOLDIERS, no less!”

Luc fell in step behind his lord, keeping back and to the right of the man. “Things have changed across Veira, my lord, of that there is no doubt. Take heart in the fact that there are those willing to protect what we have here in Galbadia.” Luc allowed his voice to carry into a resolutely hopeful tone, “It is my sole purpose, my lord. As it is for every one of my SOLDIER compatriots.”

The Baron half turned, his braided ebony tail shaking from the back of his head. “My friend, if only the world was a virtuous as you believed it to be, we wouldn’t need SOLDIERS in the first instance.”

Luc blinked at the Baron’s reply, but lost the chance to conjure up a rebuttal. The front entrance opened on the Baron’s command, and the doors began to swing open.

Instinctively, Luc positioned himself now in front of the Baron. His protective nature was ingrained in his very soul now, and it mattered not if his lordship was receiving delegates of the President himself, or the entire SeeR army—Luc would be the first to take any blow.

As the light from the interior of the manor lit the street below, Luc’s eyes fell to the SOLDIERS at the foot of the entry steps. He was at first taken aback by the number of the prized warriors that had been sent, as no expectation of such a sizeable force had been conveyed to the Baron’s office. His surprise, however, turned quickly to a prideful joy. Luc had not kept the company of fellow SOLDIERS since the time of his training, and the prospect now was a pleasant one.

His attention focused next upon the beautiful and impish face of a blonde that led the phalanx of SOLDIERS. Her stunning features were only made more unique by the orbs of deep umber and cerulean that stared back at him. A slight involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The Baron whisked past him them, and Luc followed. Descending the steps, he appraised the rest of the company. He gave little nods of greeting and acknowledgement to each, pausing as he did so to give a knowing look to a gargantuan man with a claymore sword at his back—a kindred spirit, if Luc had ever seen one.

After the Baron finished his greeting, Luc saw his opportunity to fulfill his own duty. Stepping forward near the baron, Luc added his deep, rumbling voice to the night.

“I am Luc Watkins, security officer and guardian to his lordship.” He smiled broadly to his fellow SOLDIERS, concern wilting his gaze as he looked to the wounded in the company. “We have made preparations for proper medical treatment, as well as refreshment and sleeping quarters.”

Sweeping a gauntleted hand towards the entrance, Luc stepped aside on the stairs. “Please make your way inside. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask me. I will see to it personally.”

[icmasticc]

Aboard The Behemoth - Zalera Checkpoint - The Aftermath

---

She was getting impatient.

Staring at the same four wooden walls, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor for almost an hour at this point was a true test of Sable's willpower. Arthur had instructed his student--or his charge as far as she was concerned--to meet him in the dojo behind the main house immediately. It seemed that immediacy was only required for one of the two individuals however. Suddenly, the somewhat out of place metal door opened and in walked a man. He was tall and thin, built like an endurance athlete of some sort under a roguish face, a mop of dirty blonde hair, and piercing, aqua eyes. The door closed on its own as he strolled towards Sable, hands in pockets and nonchalance radiating. "What's up?" He greeted. Sable heaved a heavy sigh and rose to her feet though the top of her head only made it to his chest.

"Don't 'what's up' me. Weren't you the one who told me to hurry up and come?!" Sable began stretching as she spoke, but also took a moment to adjust the loose gray sweatpants she was wearing.

"You know how it is... I was on this date--"

"The fuck?! You literally called me while out trolling?"

Arthur began his own series of stretches after rolling up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt. "Come on, that ain't fair. As a single guy, it's my duty to let women know how available I am. Besides, I wasn't trolling, I was on a date,"

"Oh yeah? What was her name?"

"Something pretty"

"How old was she?"

"Mature enough, but not pushing the upper echelon either ya know,"

"Where does she work?"

"In a building,"

"Christ, what color were her eyes at least?"

"A deep shade or hue,"

"Those are the same thing,"

"What?

"A shade or hue? It's the same thing,"

"The point is, she was pretty good lookin' ya know,"

"You don't even know,"

"But who really does?"

"Good fucking lord," Sable exhaled once and shook her hands out. She had finished her stretches at the same time as her mentor. Arthur chuckled as he pulled himself into a fighting stance.

"You should feel honored. I raced back here just as soon as I realized what time it was. Your parents hired a pretty punctual guy, don't ya think?"

Sable adjusted her fitting t-shirt and took her own stance. "Oh yeah, I feel damn honored to sit on this floor for an hour. I can really appreciate the craftsmanship." She replied. The two stood focused on one another for only a moment. With a mutual grin, they lunged forward.

#

Sable lurched forward slightly and grabbed her now throbbing torso. She felt the hardened exterior of her armor and the memories of the battle came flooding back. She sighed and slowly pushed her back against the seat and gazed up at the metallic ceiling of the behemoth. How had everything gone so wrong? It was bad enough that her first mission had gone south when SeeR ambushed the unit she was assigned to, but now she had suffered what she considered another loss against eagles--fucking eagles. Were monsters even supposed to have special attacks? The intense pain hummed and danced in all major body parts, but the only thing Sable could focus her mind on was everything that could have been done better or more efficiently. Maybe that was the result of SOLDIER training at the fort, but for once she wished she could forget about combat tactics and just... Empty her mind.

"He always said that remaining calm was the key in all situations... All situations... " She thought as she closed her eyes briefly and attempted to cleanse her mental processes. Fragments of the phenomenon played in her head instead; the azure blue outline of the eagle and a faint feeling of rage and refusal to wither away without taking the enemy down too--the enemy being the comrades who lined the other seats of the monstrous vehicle. Sable remained motionless, but opened her eyes once more to gaze at nothing in particular. She had moved her head around enough to notice that the moon was in its place and the lay of the land appeared to indicate that they had arrived at a checkpoint. With nothing else to say or think, she let herself drift off to sleep while the pain continued to forgo such human necessities.

Zalera Tundra - Mrihl

---

Sable was well awake when the hatch droned towards the ground and allowed the visage of Mrihl to slowly peek into view. She was still in pain, but at this point her body had grown used to the companionship and was getting better at ignoring its presence. The Lieutenants aboard hopped up first of course and Evangeline followed after them. Sable brought herself up and slapped the top of the doorway as she made her exit. Despite the current situation, she couldn't suppress all of her excitement. For one who had never traveled before joining SOLDIER, this was an opportunity. Even under the soft light of the moon fighting against the vastness of the darkness, the ravager appreciated all the sights as the silent group marched through the streets towards an unknown destination. The architecture was much different than anything she had seen before and the layout of the city--from what she could tell anyway--intrigued her greatly.

It was not long before the troop stopped in front of a large and obviously important manor. Its large doors pulled back and several individuals came out. The salutes and slight bows of the Lieutenants confirmed that at least someone important had just exited, but Sable fixated on another obscenely large man, heavily armored and carrying an equally heavy looking thing on his back. He immediately reminded her of the Sentinels that already resided in her current unit and she rolled her eyes at the introduction of yet another one. How many obscenely huge men existed anyway? Once Luc Watkins introduced himself, Sable understood. They were in the presence of the Baron of Mrihl. The only thing she took away from his introduction however was the offer of sleep and refreshment. Considering this was the real start of their mission, Sable longed to eat real food once more before she wouldn't have the chance.

[Kefka Palazzo]

Cidolphus Escovane

Twenty Seven | 15, September | 6’0” | First Class
“They’re watching you die, and when you’re gone it’s like you weren’t even there…“

---

Mrihl - The Silver Scale

---

The longer the journey onboard the Behemoth, the more cramped and confined Cidolphus grew to feel, and by the time they arrived in Mrihl, Cid found himself as eager to get out of the Behemoth had he had been to get onboard the hulking vehicle at their journey’s start. The hours left him feeling coiled, as though the spent the trip with knees up to his chest and head tucked into the darkness of his chest. The first thing he noticed, upon exiting the behemoth, was the freshness air. The breeze was gentle, cool, and fragrant with the smells of roasting chicken and boar his mind attributed to the manor’s kitchen preparing to receive their guests. The idea of fresh meat, of a warm meal and a bed to lay on and stretch out knotted, weary muscles was enough to tempt the young man, but his heart yearned for something else entirely. For hours now, he’s been cooped up with nothing more than his thoughts and the stable hum of the behemoth to occupy him, aside from the occasional comment from his traveling companions. There hadn’t been much as far as conversation, the lot of them clearly as different as they were similar, and nobody looking to open up or talk in anything more than a necessary capacity. At least, none of it had managed to catch Cid’s attention had it gone on, but in truth, his mind had been occupied by the events of the battlefield, and it’s puzzling end.

These were the thoughts that Cid has spent the last few hours engulfed in, the thoughts that drove from his mind everything else, as he tried to relive and understand what had happened. He could feel the serge of energy building up within him, as if it were born of his own blood. Like heat that seemed to radiate off his skin after a particularly strenuous exercise session, the power was born from within, and perhaps what complexes him the most, was the fact without prior training or understanding of such abilities, he felt as though not only did he understand them, but he could recreate it. He could have thrown the eagle’s wind right back to them.

What scares him, as he stands on the outside of the behemoth, listening to the large form of the quaint hamlet’s baron, is that if he had desired to do so, he could produce the same effect now, hours later.

He pushed away the thought, told himself that perhaps what he needed was a way to take his mind off it all. Cid was a warrior, a master of stealth and agility, good with technology… he was no mage. Not in the way the stories portrayed them. He had always been a quick study, that was true, but a talent buried in a quick mind and vast capacity for understanding the mechanics and physics of a trick. He could see the sleight of hand that most did not. He could see the barely visible threads, or the crisp edge of a mirror, a hidden door, a trap in the floor. Trick the thief had taken into his own bag of tricks throughout the years. But magic. Magic was a childhood’s fancy.

The baron led the group within, but Cid decided not to follow. The others passed, as Cid wordlessly let himself slip away into the nearest shadow, disappearing while the others concerned themselves with rest and food. His mind plagued him, his thoughts a swimming torrent of children’s stories and probable doubts. He longed for the voice, that voice which he had grown accustomed to, which seemed to set right world when it began to tilt one way or another. The voice that began as the lessons of Soldier began: he longed for Alice, for the gentle curls of her brown hair, the depth of her emerald eyes.

Once away from the baron’s estate, Cid felt the world open around him. Space, as though he had been just now released from chains that hung form him, chains of duty and expectations. For the moment, as he stopped to peer back the way he had come, he was alone. Soldier was never something he could be rid of, not once it had become a part of him, but that doesn’t mean that for a few minutes he couldn’t allow himself to breathe free of its watchful eyes. It was duty, honor, respect, military structure, and to a soul that lived its life free of rules and hierarchy, it was stifling. In the moment its grip loosened on him, suddenly he was aware of the salt in the air, the quaint, aged appearance of the old town of Mrihl, as his boots scooted across cobble stone streets. The thoughts that had bene plaguing him fell away as the first notes of the lute caught his attention. A soft, distant sound, melody carrying over the distance on the back of the smell of roasting fish and freshly baked bread.

Perhaps it was his freedom, perhaps it was the music, or the fact that for the first time since the battle with the eagles his mind was empty, but Cid suddenly felt very hungry. His left hand dipped into his pocket, drawing forth a handful of coins, peering over the lot to determine if he believed himself enough for a good meal. The music carried his feet as the gil fell back into his pockets, his eyes looking over the town as he walked, guided by ears and nose, through the main square of the small town. It took him but a few minutes before he came to stand at the doorway of a small busy inn, the source of both the smell of roasted fish, and the strumming melody of the lute. The inn was well lit, and with enough life in it to seem inviting, yet not so busy as to seem, at least initial, as something overly dangerous or troublesome. The warmth that passed through the door, as a young man came out of the building and scurried off into the darkness, was inviting against the cool chill of the night, and the longer Cid stood in the door, smelling the sweet smells of baked bread and fresh fish, the more he began to notice the empty, churning feeling that took up residence in his belly. He opened the door, and stepped within.

“Take a seat” came the gruff voice of the innkeeper, as Cid was noticed, and had he been noticed by any other than the older man, he didn’t take note of it. The crowd was busy within itself. The group of more than half made up of men, the majority of them dressed in gray and white fishmen’s clothing, telling their tales and laughing between one another. The barmaids scurried between tables, going about their work to keep happy the small crowd within. A few kept their eyes glued to the stage, where a young woman, seemingly little beyond the age of a child, sat with lute in her hands, fingers busy strumming the melody that had been calling to him. Plates of fish and potatoes, bowls of some kind of soup or stew, and loaves of fragrant bread passed him as he made his way through the small inn, to come to a table along the far wall, and he sat with his back to the hard wooden surface.

When the maid stopped by his table, Cid ordered a plate of fish and potatoes, a cup of that honeyed tea he saw floating about the place, and a loaf of bread with some cheese.

“Yer not from around these parts, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay up first,” The maid spoke, her voice friendly enough, and her red curls settled around her shoulders just enough to frame the deep slit in her blouse . Friendly was hardly the word of it as she did an exaggerated bend across the table to collect the coins from him, and again, as she brought his food and drink. The first, Cid had taken notice of, felt the blood stir in his face, the second, his attention had already been taken by the young woman sitting on the stage with lute in hand. She couldn’t have been much more than seventeen, with long blonde curls, and the deepest emerald eyes Cid has seen since…

Alice flooded back into memory, and memories danced with the melody of the lute.

[Noxious]

---

Behemoth. Sacrifice Continues.

---

This tomb of theirs permeated with a dim and detached mood. It was near impossible for her to gauge if the blinding light had affected her sense of sight, but it was more than lack of illumination that settled alongside them. Time itself appeared stunted by brutality and rapid mechanizations, dripping through reality at such a decrepit speed that she was a tad put off when an invasive cranium soiled their reverie. With a sigh that hinted at something pensive and agitated she acquiesced and soon the cranium and herself were hefting the dead weight through the latch. Allen Thomas deviated gracelessly in her hold; like a doll whose joints had deteriorated and become more hindrance than frame, misplaced junctures that masticated in a warm crunch beneath a tepid husk.

His body was hefted from her persistently quivering fingers; scrapped and forsaken in his terminal resting place, a singular empty shell among a handful of others. While the reverberation within her fingertips seemed to betray some enduring sorrow, the betrayal itself was a lie tailored by realities defined in normalcy. She was no more sorrowful than she was thrilled. Rather it was unchecked adrenaline that coursed through her, routinely reigned by focus and a steady mind that currently eluded her.

An armored knee found itself at the head of her departed friend, nestled into the blood soaked soil that hemmed the Behemoth. A twitch of her neck and eyes assured her that no attention was on the pair. This illusory moment allowed a gawky, yet authentic, exposure of self that snaked out in spindly digit to boop Allen Thomas on the nose. To further the juxtaposition of gentle adoration and flippant desecration the same digits converted to a narrow claw and burrowed into the man’s skull up to the knuckle. Her expression remained passive as she jerked the sightless eye from an unappreciative skull, breaking the optic nerve with a lackluster snap.

There would be other Allens. There always were, but she needed something to keep herit grounded.

Her fingers tilted upward spanning the mountaintops for the dead eye in palm, bringing its sight to her own. An Allen that was almost Allen mirrored the blankness in her stare; casting it’s own reflection of judgment upon her. A chaotic halo of misplaced and disheveled hair seeped out of half adorned armor, doing nothing to disguise the malleable meat of her cheek. She wanted to grimace but could clearly see in the deep battling colors it would lack any satisfaction. And who was she to cringe at a dead man over a swollen cheek? Enough judgment Allen. She twisted a laundered, yet heavily stained, handkerchief around the eye of Allen and deposited the watchful package into a chest pocket, for now. It would be placed in a small jar she had in her pack when the time was suitable.

Her reentry into the Behemoth was hastened by one of the Lieutenants who, in return, received a barely audible snarl. There was something inexorable, something haughty and weak, that came off him in waves and brought out the predator in her. Her lethargic form brushed by him with calculated proximity so that he was forced to yield his stance or welcome her squared shoulder. Her face the way it was he probably rolled his bearing out of pity, but as she cleared his view those tepid lips came into possession of a coy smile; she’d spent enough time in a cage to know surrender is a slippery slope.

Once inside, the treatment of her cheek, while apt, seemed disagreeable. Their healer, with gray strands that reminded Dach of the whispered myths of sacrificial witches, had a plethora of maladies to keep her engaged. Dach was intrigued by their femme fatale healer and would likely seek her out later; but now the solitary creature within wanted to nurse its wounds alone.

The Behemoth roared to life as she made her ascent into the tomb above, finding a new tenderness housed within her knees as they dragged across the metal, marginally heated by the bodies below. She crouched near the latches, taking her time and rebinding and fastening despite the uncomfortable position. When the security and integrity of the bunker were assured she moved to a sitting position and rested her, still armored, back against the outer wall and took up the particle rifle. The Behemoth continued on its deathmarch as she inspected the well protected rifle; it had fared better than its counterpart, anyways.

She hadn’t intended on sleeping; she rarely did anymore. It came and went as it pleased with regard only to preservation, and she wasn’t quite sure it was her own; but, at some point the sandman had caressed her unsteady soul and swept away her consciousness so that her favored cheek nuzzled into the particle rifle.

a fog, cliche in dreams, comforting and invasive
allen’s face m o r p h s through t h e variations,
fractured and static images, but a l w a y s allen
glimmering with existence recognizable, soulmate
something she clung to while supplanting the rest
memory that had grown to grandiose proportions
its e n d l e s s cycle t r y i n g to make a whole

---

Zalera Tundra, Mrihl.

---

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The veil of sleep slipped away like a silk sheet; the antithesis of rude awakening. Each of her muscles contracted, expanded and released so that her form conveyed the luxurious awakening of a feline. Her disposition, while still herself, seemed exceedingly reinvigorated. The rumbling Behemoth had ceased its tiresome movement, which most likely had stirred the sleep from those deviant eyes. It was also likely that their now stationary position had reflected optimism into her animation. The prospect of removal from this beast was a blessing, and on a day such as today even a singular minute benediction was enough to recoil the unwoven yarn of sanctity and self assurance. The overall puzzling exuberance bled into her ailments so that her cheek no longer felt so tender and her forced companions appeared less strange.

Her descent from above was laced in pleased moxie, even daring to flash those pearly whites at the eyes that caught her own. Smiling flexed bruised muscles and a wince tainted the gesture, but the attempt was there. The bounce in her step refused to be stifled as she moved out of the Behemoth and followed along with the others to meet the Baron and his man. From beneath tinted lenses her eyes dawdled about the estate as the men before her spoke. A memory perhaps, or ingrained feedback from a prior life was humming about beneath the simple appraisal: evaluating entrances, exits, security, layout; surely there was something worth stealing.

Had they mentioned food? Her eyes swiveled back to the duo as her stomach headed the call and growled of its own accord. Such a vice of humanity. The migration of reflection diverted from crime to speculation; when was the last time she had eaten? Her appraisal moved from their hosts to Kain. If anyone would feel the effects of a lost meal it was that man. He probably had the bones of a dead boar he’d consumed on their journey within that pack of his. On her honor, she would not be the least bit surprised. When the talking had ceased and people began to disperse her attention was still on Kain, and her body decided to follow suit and she tapped the goliath gingerly on his shoulder. “Think I could bum a square big boy?” Her digits gestured to his cigarettes, and as they flashed into her peripheral she realized that Allen’s blood was still crusted on her fingertips. She didn’t seemed phased by the discovery. Kain wasn’t exactly in a position to judge considering there were bits of Eagle, was that ash?, still fresh upon his as well. He didn’t strike her as one to shy from a little blood anyways.

[JJ Doe]

---

Luan Fields; The Aftermath

---

After the battle officially ended, Hal started to check up on his fellow teammates with Quill and assisted her with any medical matter that she needed an extra pair of hands on. Whenever he approached a hurt SOLDIER, regardless of the severity of the injury, Hal face expressed great concern even though his mouth would continue to crack jokes when he wasn’t talking about medical related topics to Quill or the patient. Only when both Quill and Hal were certain that the SOLDIER’s injuries were not life threatening or could not possibly lead to any future disabilities, did Hal allow himself to smile his usual goofy smile. Once the two were able to provide basic medical care to each of their teammates, Hal took all the items with the SOLDIER’s DNA on it, put them in individual containers, labeled them, and placed the containers in a large bag.

The SOLDER’s DNA samples were not the only thing Hal collected, however. He went off wondering over to the bodies of the giant eagles and made sure he collected as much samples as he could from each one. When he was done with that, he walked towards the soldiers that had died from the eagle’s attack. It was much more difficult to collect and accurately label the fragments of flesh, so the scientist did not bother to pick up every bit of meat he found on the ground. He continued to acquire samples until the group was fed up of calling Hal’s name a hundred times and decided that it was faster to just drag the man into the Behemoth.

During the long travel in the Behemoth, Hal spend most of his time in the section of the vehicle with the most science equipment and analyzed the samples he acquired. Although he was not particularly secretive about the work, Hal would stop working every time someone—other than Evangeline—was nearby and would instead focus on starting up a conversation with them. Those who were not fond of Hal’s blabbering immediately vacated the area, but those who were willing to tolerate the man or even liked to talk with him, were welcomed by Hal with open arms. If someone was curious enough to ask what he was doing, they were treated with a straight answer—that he was analyzing DNA samples—, even though he did not give up specific details. Whenever he was fairly certain he was alone, or that Evangeline was the only person nearby, Hal carried on with the DNA analysis, talking to Evangeline if she happened to be there.

Every now and then, Hal took breaks and walked around the Behemoth to check up on his teammates, the injured SOLDIERs especially. He made sure he introduced himself to the newcomers. He talked to them enough to start listing up some potential nicknames he could call them.

When the announcement that they had arrived at Mrihl, and that the team needed to get outside, reached Hal’s ears, he immediately disposed the DNA samples he collected. He then inserted a small devise in the computer and when he pulled it out, all traces of the DNA analysis data vanished.

---

SOLIDER Base; Laboratory Conference Room

---

The meeting went as well as Haziq expected: mass hysteria amongst the higher ups while everyone else stood around awkwardly in silence. With how much yelling the President did, Haziq was surprised that a blood vain didn’t burst or that Haziq or Athene were still standing, alive. They were, unlike some other scientists, replaceable, after all. But Haziq would rather not have his life end just because the President didn’t like what they found out about Ondřej Ó Dubhshláine’s death.

Ondřej Ó Dubhshláine, one of the pioneers of Aeon technology and close associate of the higher ups, was found dead in his house a few days ago. Considering his age, no one would have thought much about his death if it weren’t for one thing: his body was found being consumed by green greyish blobs. With the recent SeeR activity, the government feared the possibility of an assassination using bioweapons so decided to send the body to SOLDIER base to investigate the cause of death. Good thing the government made the decision as fast as they did, because the unknown blobs did not stop devouring the body of Ondřej the entire time. In fact, all traces of Ondřej vanished from the face of the planet in the middle of autopsy. All the scientists had to really work on were the blobs and even that ended up being a race against time.

The scientists discovered that the green-grey blob was a colony of flesh eating—although it ate more than just the flesh—bacteria in which their only source of sustenance was Ondřej himself and when Ondřej was gone, the bacteria started to eat each other. The results had some serious implications. For one thing, the chances of bacteria evolving naturally to eat only one man in the entire world was thinner than the bacterium’s cell wall, thus, it was highly likely that the bacteria was a product of genetic engineering. If this was true, however, it would mean that whoever made it has extensive knowledge in the field of genetics and also has the resources to create the bacteria. Secondly, there was a possibility that the person who made it was able to get close enough to Ondřej—a man who was constantly surrounded by top security and actually hired food tasters just incase his food was poisoned—to infect him with the bacteria. The other possibility was that the Ondřej-eating bacteria were the type of bacteria that could produce an endospore, in which case, the bacteria could have been created years ago, remained dormant through the years traveling from one place or person to another place or person, and it only recently managed to come into contact with Ondřej. If true, the person who made the bacteria would not have to be close to Ondřej to infect him, but the person still had to find a way to acquire Ondřej’s DNA so that he or she could genetically engineer the bacteria to target Ondřej.

If the SeeRs were in fact the culprits, it meant that the rebellion might be more powerful and have more inside connections than the government had initially thought. This was what scared the higher ups: the SeeRs could be anywhere, ready to strike at anytime. The higher ups were most likely going to start an investigation on potential spies very soon at this rate.

Haziq glanced over at Athene who had been staring silently at the data they had collected. He was about to call her name when he saw her lips move to form the words “Verts Gris.”

Where has he heard that before?

---

---

Zalera Tundra; Mrihl

---

Feeling someone’s gaze directed to him, Hal turned his head around just in time to see two little children ducking into the bushes. He continued to stare in the direction and saw their heads come up, then immediately go back down when their eyes met with his. Based on their expensive looking clothing and similar features they had with the Baron, it was easy for Hal to conclude that the children were the Baron’s—a close relative, if not the Baron’s own. They must have been curious to know who the foreign guests were, but were probably supposed to be doing something else—school work perhaps?

Hal entertained himself by watching the children try and fail to be stealthy for awhile before deciding that he would go introduce himself the little misses and mister. Every time the children hid, Hal walked over to them and quickly froze in some ridiculous pose when the children stuck their head out again. It did not take long for the children to catch on what game they were playing and they were more than happy to play along.

After a few turns of red light green light, Hal was at arms reach of the children when he wobbled. The children pointed at him declaring that they had caught him moving. Hal laughed as he admitted defeat and kneeled down so he could talk to the children at eye level. The three introduced themselves in turn, confirming Hal’s suspicions of the children being the Baron’s offspring. When Hal introduced himself as a SOLDIER, the children didn’t believe him, because he looked nothing like Luc, but they forgave their new friend for lying. The children had no one but themselves to play with at the Baron’s estate and an adult willing to play with them was a breath of fresh air.

---

1 hour of fun and games later, the security mistook the children’s screams of joy with cries for help and immediately captured the suspicious man who was harassing them. He insisted that he was a SOLDIER, but the guards knew very well that the man was just making things up. They locked the intruder into a barred room until the proper authorities could arrest him.

[Ozerath]

Luan Fields

When the eagle reared back, it took Cas’s lance with it, leaving him unarmed. More SOLDIERs were joining the fray every passing moment, but he suddenly felt useless. The heat inside him continued to mount; he felt like he would burst into flame any second.

Consider the possibilities, lad.

The voice was low and lilting, both soft and firm, intimidating and simultaneously comforting. Cas immediately knew it wasn’t any external voice, but something deep inside him surfacing for the first time.

Expand yer thinking. Yeh feel the potential. Let it grow, let it change yeh

His surroundings dimmed out to hollow background noises and distant shifting shapes. He didn’t worry about the voice, it was a friend, at least to him. Consider possibilities...potential...change. He let the heat raging inside him flow outwards over his skin. He abandoned rationality. Reclaim the lance. Strike the eagle on his flank. Reposition himself with the other Guardians. They were not mutually exclusive actions, why should they be. They wouldn’t be sequential either, but simultaneous. It seemed so obvious now.

Yeh’ve been given all the tools. Now fight!

The heat washing over him abruptly reached its flashpoint, erupting in flames all over his body. Cas began to move...and was abruptly thrown backwards by the maelstrom of wind blasting from one of the eagles. He landed hard, and in a single instant the fire and the voice were gone. The impact left him winded, and he tore off his helmet to breathe easier as he sat up. The battle was dying down around him. It seemed the eagles had decimated the newly arrived support infantry, but the various SOLDIERs across the field seemed barely harmed at all. Odd flashes of light and dark died out, faint disruptions in natural order of things, focused on some of the other SOLDIERs. They were awakening.

Everyone knew SOLDIERs were special. The superhuman strength and speed, that was common knowledge. There was more though, more the subject of stories than actual fact. SOLDIERs had talents, strange and inexplicable and unique. There was no training for them, no lectures from instructors, but suddenly so much of what he’d been told came together and made sense. There would be a moment, he’d always been told, where things just...changed. The SOLDIERs on the Archadia mission had said the same thing, refusing to be any less cryptic than his academy instructors. There would be a moment, and after the moment, things would be different. He got the sense it was something of an initiation, and veterans wouldn’t discuss it with those who hadn’t experienced it.

Looking around the field, Cas could guess that some of his companions, new and old, had experienced something during the battle that might well have been that moment. Cas himself had been on the threshold, he was certain, before being knocked away by the eagle’s attack.
Cas reclaimed his lance from the fallen eagle and headed towards the behemoths. He curtly acknowledged the instructions of an officious lieutenant. He knew there would be questions, but right now, he wanted nothing more than some time to think.

Behemoth - Zalera Checkpoint

There were introductions of course. There had to be. In the aftermath of the battle though, they were rather more subdued than they might have been. Evangeline seemed to be nominally in charge, or perhaps she was just the most charismatic, but even she seemed subdued and quiet.

This all worked fine for Cas. After thanking the others for saving his bacon, he tried to find something approximating privacy. The Behemoth was big, but not THAT big. Cas settled down in a relatively secluded corner and dozed off. Even in sleep though, questions raced through his mind. One of the other guardians had somehow ignited a rock. A ravager had smashed an eagle’s brain into pulp with his bare hands and come away laughing. Cas himself had been ablaze for a half second, he was sure of it. Was this what all the veteran SOLDIERs knew about but didn’t discuss? Would things ever be the same? The questions chased eachother endlessly through Cas’ mind, and when he woke up, he felt even more tired than before his nap.

Zalera tundra - Mrihl

The baron seemed nice enough, though something about the man was faintly off-putting. Cas eventually decided it was his stature; lanky to the point of absurdity, the baron looked disturbingly skeletal.

The SOLDIER heading up his security was much easier on the eyes, and extremely professional; Cas had to make a point of not letting his eyes linger. At the mention of food, his stomach growled, and Cas suddenly realized he hadn’t had a meal in almost 24 hours.

“Luc?” he drew the guardian’s attention, and extended a hand. “I’m Cas. You mentioned food?”

[Raijinslayer]

James Lockeheart

---

Luan Field->The Belly of the Beasts->Mrhil

---

James was carried into the Behemoth off the fields, unable to move and deeply shaken by the visions that had afflicted him during the battle, only to find himself unable to what the content of said visions were. This fact, though small in size, disturbed him a tad bit more. As he was taken from his place on the fields to the Behemoth, he saw the bodies that lay scattered about the fields from the giant bird's attack, many having been torn limb from limb by the pressures, and yet, he felt nothing on seeing it. Nothing but a faint sense that he had seen it before, and the wetness of a single tear falling free from the corner of one of his eyes.

During the travel towards Mrhil, he quickly recovered, as it was only fatigued by what had happened. He also discovered himself to be able to call upon that strange ability again, the black energy that leapt to his hands with but a mere thought. He did his best to manipulate it, isolating himself from the group in order to experiment with this strangeness in privacy. In the drive, he discovered a few things about not only this energy, but about his own Cerburus Armor, as he found that it had chambers in it that could harness the energy and even launch it out in a compressed burst of some power, yet no sound. His power over this black energy also reveled itself to have the property to weaken organic matter, as he tested with some of the food he had been given during their travel. Already his mind was turning with potential uses for this new substance in battle, and more importantly, away from the questions that were bursting through the seams of his mind. So many whys and hows, but he took them all and shoved them in a dark spot in his sub-conscious, not wanting to ever get the answer to them. His experience had more than confirmed that whatever had happened to him was not something he wanted to remember, and that to go looking for answers would end badly for him, no question about it. The past was in the past, and it would help no one to go snooping for answers.

In what felt like an eternity, they finally made it to the town they were assigned. He followed the group, absent-mindedly looking around the place and not paying too much attention to anything. When they made it to the Baron's manner, he couldn't help but find it rather quaint in comparison to . . . what? This is the most opulence I should have ever witnessed, and I should be awed by it, so w-NO. I don't know, I don't care, and I'm not even going to allow myself to swell on it. DOn't ask yourself questions, don't make curious statements, just do what you came here to do, and nothing more. Just ignore the feelings, and they'll go away. James' shook his head, tuning back in to events around him to hear one of the men they had rescued ask for food. Feeling a slight rumbling in his own stomach, he paid attention to what the other man would say, but offered no comment of his own.

[Rockette]

Mrihl — The Manor

---

Evangeline’s eyes never appeared to waver on either of the hosts, the lights from the foyer eclipsing most of their respective expressions, but the Saboteur bred within the blonde SOLDIER knew a smile when she witnessed one. Each bore a carving simper, obtuse, broad in cheer and wealth of consideration concerning each of their haggard and worn spirits. However, despite all the glimmering generosity bathing each of their proffers of hospitality, she could not wither away the ascending chill coiling rigid up the extent of her spine. The Baron's grin wreathed his eyes in fine lines, crinkling edges as they narrowed with the measurement of his lips thus spread broad and almost shining. Evangeline slowly bit around the juncture of nail and thumb, pallid bone worrying into the flesh before she carefully approached the steps, following after the Baron who was chatting almost carelessly. Each of his pronunciations and almost flippant accentuation, with his hands gesturing broadly and thus droned meaninglessly into an incoherent dribble about the factual dating of the manor.

Instead, most of her attention fell onto the Guardian, his astute performance of shadowing the lower—tier Lord broadcast that he had been protecting the barony for some time; being apart of the security regiment of the barony no less. But, it bade inquires of why SOLDIER was already here, and why Magdalena and the other Commanders had failed to include that particular tidbit of importance. The situation bade an ominous quiver across her sallow skin beneath the mesh of her armour and withdrew a silent query from her lips — slightly muffled around the pinch of teeth against her broad digit.

"You've been here the longest — Luc, was it?" The edges of her shell mouth lifted into the perpetual smirk that visually marked her. "Have you noticed anything... unusual since your station here?"

Luc had flowed naturally into the wake of the Baron without an effort to thought, following the eccentric man up the steps along with the other SOLDIERS. His massive, armored hands clasped at the small of his back as he ascended, and he gave care to dividing his attention between the Baron and the newly arrived guests.

As was his habit, the Baron slipped into the realm of inane chatter, gesticulating as we made his way inside the manor. Luc kept his expression neutrally pleasant, having long ago grown used to the Baron’s pattern of speech. In truth, he found listening to the man exhausting, but the Guardian would be hard pressed to ever admit it—his duty was to protect his lordship, no matter how exasperating he might personally find the man to be.

It was a honeyed, feminine voice from just off his shoulder that stole Luc’s attention away from the prattle of the lord. Turning an inquisitive eye to the sound of his name, and the question that followed, Luc affected a kind smile as he met the dichotomous eyes of the blonde woman he had first seen upon the steps.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, uncertain of the rank of the blonde. She had not introduced herself, and so Luc thought it best to give deference to her status within the ranks of SOLDIER. “Luc, Luc Watkins. I’ve been here for six months, serving as the security officer.”

He considered her follow-up question for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. Given the directness of her inquiry, Luc pegged her as a Saboteur.

“As for unusual, I cannot say—the current state of Mrihl has been much the same since I first arrived. What I will say is that the barony has been plagued by beast attacks, and reports of SeeR operatives and sympathizers around the city.”

Luc let out a small sigh. “I’m proud to say that our security team has managed to cut the occurrence of beast attacks dramatically over the last few months. However, civilian reports of suspicious behavior, and SeeR related concerns have only increased. These reports have especially increased around the port and canal areas.”

With the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smirk of his own, Luc asked his own question. “Ma’am, should I be concerned about anything specific? I must say, though I’m proud to be among other SOLDIERS, your arrival here is equally unnerving.”

So SeeR sympathizers were here. . .

Evangeline's gnashing teeth nearly speared through the keratin of her digit flush against her mouth, nursing the pout of her swollen, quirked lips as she hummed in consent to Luc's rejoinder laced with uncertain speculations. The beasts had been tamed and pushed back, which supplied evidence that the Eagles had been the only creatures they had faced against — a small favour, she was certain. Impressed by that feature of his security regiment, Evangeline gradually lowered her gesture and mimicked his posture, hands laced together at the plantation of her spine and compressed to the small of her back.

It was a queer sensation to be referred to in speech with such a moniker, garnered by respect no doubt to her SOLDIER default, but it was.. different when compared to a Lieutenant speaking to her with an appellation configured of numbers and singular letters. She had been cemented on those matrices of similar aesthetic, and knew such of everyone in SOLDIER, but it was entirely appreciative, evident by the swell of her smirk that sliced dimples into pallid cheeks.

"Evangeline Dashelle," she supplied with a small chirp of laughter threatening to slither up over her tongue curving against the shell of her mouth, acknowledging that he hadn't requested to her name, but providing it none the less when she considered his own follow up inquiry. That's when a small shadow fell over the breadth of her bi—coloured stare, immediately sharpening into the brief, shimmering barrier to guard the whorl of emotion and secrecy she had silently sworn to back at the SOLDIER compound. She, and Cid, were the only individuals deemed and burdened with a secondary objective and while the tantalizing notion to inform Luc pressed wearily on her insides, Evangeline only responded with the dazzling simper of her eternal exuberance.

"Oh, nothing at all!" She chirped, quelling down the urge to skip ahead of him and sweep on past the Baron to explore the splendors of the manor; she had time for that later. Instead, she canted her head to one side, slicing her unique, mismatched gaze through lashes. "I will say that we're here in response to rumours about SeeR possibly setting up base near, or even in Mrihl its self. It has the council on edge, and we were dispatched here to seek out the threat and.. temper it."

Which made her ponder. "However, they didn't tell us about SOLDIER already being here. Your own station here is quite unnerving as well." Evangeline admitted, pausing briefly to glance through the pane of a window here in the manor, the town of Mrihl silent and somber. She had never been in such a place before, the spires of the Fort and the Compound being her only memories of visitation.

"It's almost peaceful here, though, hard to imagine that you've suffered much opposition."

Luc’s mouth arced into a full smile at the introduction. She had not provided a rank along with her name, so odds were that she was no higher than First Class.

“A pleasure to meet you, Evangeline,” he said, dipping his head slightly.

The effervescent quality to Evangeline’s personality was ubiquitous. He watched keenly as the blond locks of her hair bounced and swayed with each new step; the effect softening the hard lines of the armor she wore until she seemed hardly martial at all. Luc was so disarmed by Evangeline’s manner, that he almost missed her response to his own question all together.

“Setting up a base? In Mrihl?” he said at last, the words low and soft. His brow knit in concern. “That is troublesome news, indeed.”

He looked forward, his gaze wandering with thought. “I can’t say that we’ve seen any evidence of a base. At least, not anywhere where we have patrolled.”

“If there is a SeeR base,” Luc continued, as much to himself as Evangeline, “than it must be extremely well hidden, or farther out into the tundra than we’ve ventured.”

His contemplation on the matter continued a moment longer, before Evangeline added her notion about the peaceful of the city. Luc looked at her sidelong, his eyes bright with a kind of pride.

“It is a lovely place, in its own way. The ports and canals are beautiful, and the people are generally kind.”

Luc shrugged, his massive shoulders moving metallically in his armor. “Yet, as with everything, it is not all good. Hopefully with more SOLDIERS here, we can achieve peace in a more permanent sense.”

His smile was infectious, the curvature of his lips compounding her own cheer and enlightening her glamouring simper to arc wider into completion. He was a balm to the grueling battle, the traveling across the states by the bulk of the Behemoth, and the withstanding stoical oppression of the initial SOLDIER contingent she had arrived with. Be it the results of battle, or something far more sinister, it had definitely effected the overall morale.

"That's part of the reason why we are here, we can expand the limitations of the current patrol." Evangeline voiced, gesturing offhandedly towards the pane of glass that supplied their perspective of tranquility. "Once everyone has rested properly, it'd be best to gather together and configure a stratagem with your security and begin scoping the tundra." A swift sigh exchanged her smile for one of waning edges and the pout of her lip to worry in alignment with the sliver of her teeth, habitual intricacies illustrated through minuscule details and performances in lip biting and tugging on the threads of golden hair.

"Though I share your worry, and don't get me wrong, but if you haven't found evidence of their presence, I wonder if our assistance will yield anything at all." Her syllables and intonations coated with a comic, palpable dread as her meshed covered hands tore back through her hair, fanning the blonde locks over her shoulders that fell at the dip of shoulders and spine. "If SeeR doesn't want to be found.. Then they won't be. But, considering that the Council was able to facilitate to these rumours.. Then maybe they want to be found. And we." Her spindly digit found its' way onto Luc's armour, prodding against the plate of his torso. "Are the bait."

"Of course, this is mere speculation!" Evangeline rapidly rejoined her speech, shoulders shrugging exaggeratedly in the slick lattice of her armour. "Who knows what SOLDIER wants, or SeeR, or the creatures even. They probably already know we are here." Her accentuations slid carefully into an ominous, hollow drone, the unique coloratura of her oculi pinning the Sentinel into place, and the reminiscent grin of her effervescent, bubbly demeanor briefly shadowing to something... different.

Luc added a chuckle to his smile as Evangeline accentuated her words with a poke at his armored chest. "SeeR is an elusive enemy, but our shared concerns aside, I think we can succeed in our mission."

He looked back over his shoulder, towards the group of SOLDIERS that had arrived with Evangeline. Some had dispersed already, while others seemed less sure of how to proceed. They were slightly worse for the wear following their recent battle, but Luc took confidence in their poise and presence.

Returning his gaze to the pretty blonde, Luc gave a wink. "We'll succeed, all right. As bait, SeeR will surely bite off more than they can chew. I suppose we just have to trust our superiors."

"To what end could SOLDIER have for not setting us up to succeed?" As Luc gave voice to this question, a slight frown played over his pleasantly arrayed face. It was a missive that held a lot of gravity, and it portended even more, depending on one's point of view regarding SOLDIERS upper echelons. Luc forced the seed of mistrust from his mind; such thought was a dereliction of his duty. If there was cause to worry, only then would he entertain such misgivings.

Turning to Evangeline fully, he gave her a small salute. It was a gesture meant to be friendly, and a bit whimsical, given his earlier habit of addressing her as "ma'am."

"Well, I should go see to the rest of the SOLDIERS, and to the Baron. It was wonderful to have met you, Evangeline. I look forward to helping out your team in any way I can."

“Of course.” Were her parting words, easily surrendered from wide simpers glimmering and disarming, flourished with the crease of her eyes sparkling to pools of respective oils, slick and impenetrable, and bright blues like the breadth of Viera skies. Luc left her at peculiar, whimsical ebullience that failed to dissipate in the fluttering and feathering increments that made her shudder beneath the monochromatic finish of her slick armour. It almost. . . Felt. L i k e. . .

No. . .

She blinked.

The Baron had continued to lead the progression of his tour, vacating into the upper tier of the manor by the glance of her stare; sweeping after Luc and the gleam of polished armour that bespoke of station, care, and prowess. Tantalizing notions bloomed across a lobe laced in perpetual glamour and cheer as the Baron’s quip and aerated demeanor bathed the drones of the walls, prattling on about his children and their tendency to hide with new guests on the grounds.

But, Evangeline hardly paid heed to these nuances of the household, the barony was a base of operations now and would be utilized as such, this led to the consensus that she needed to scan the perimeters whilst everyone rested and came to terms with their melancholy. The SOLDIER of constant and eternal exuberance blended and melted into the countenance of solemn contemplation whilst arachnid digits swept back, and up, coiling golden wheat into swift loops until she clipped the mass to her crown. Carefully, she participated in patience that was hardly unlike her before she dug into mesh and nylon, armour thus allowing purchase of the digital pad of her finesse. She initiated in punching her sequence of letters, and numbers and implemented the up—link procedure to procure conversation and enhanced, digital frequencies to amplify the signal to formulate the proper coding that would mask the original feed to any prying eyes of binary oculi.

First on the list. . .

Evangeline had penned and quickly transmuted a message to her fellow Saboteur, under her own guise of a scintillant moniker that contradicted to his “Shadow” — “Lumi”. She requested in cryptic incantations of literary prose, giving a brief, concise ideal to the amount of channels they needed to scan and secure for proper communication that benefited them and the security regiment they were to work with. She didn’t notice him with the rest of the group, so she could only assume he had gone under his own ambition to explore the port town. Not a terrible idea, she mused, and stood — poised and immaculate to appear casual — in one of many sections of an office where she deemed a meeting proper. She knew that most of SOLDIER would need to rest after the battle, especially to those injured and for Hally and Quill to properly attend to them with the provided medical staff. However, it left her too much time to think and ponder whilst the night ascended into the earlier hours, the quiet reflection of the time meant for the wicked that required no rest, and impaled speculation and doubts at the results of the trial with the Eagles. . .

They had gained three comrades at arms, wounded and bloodied, and no information had been provided, only that they were under harsh scrutiny because of the provided circumstance and the heritage of one among them. Evangeline gnawed onto flesh and nail, brow contoured over lashes as she contemplated the erratic situation. Come dawn, she did not doubt the Lieutenants would come for the trio, and that baited the inquiry and response to whether or not they would allow them to be returned for interrogation. . . Something, ominous and laced tight with dread, prophesied to the blonde — enough to banish all cheer and grace — that they would need them. Bi-coloured gazes, sharp and honed and penned with harsh lines, slid over the walls of the office as the night crawled on.

And on.

---

[Hellis]

”The fire that burns the brightest, leaves the most embers. The ember that ignites with fury is one that never dies.”

Kain had not uttered a single word since the fight. His entire body felt strange, almost as if his nerveendings were on fire. Of course, the stoic sentintel hardly aknowledged this at all, he merely looked more stoic then usual. They had all driven the last part of the journey in silence it had seemed. The loss of life hanging over them like a dark and ominous cloud. He was concerned for himself as much as the other, Kain had no idea where that alien fire had come from. IT had made rock ignite, like it would consume anything his blade touch. Yet now, it was dormant once more. He tried to put it away in the back of his head. To not think about the implications. He wasn't fit for those kind of existential questions anyway. He left that to the brainy types. Instead, the giant of a man remained stoic and silent.

Ther was still so much death. So many lives that ended prematurely. Flames that flickered and died as the winds of change swept across the world. He didn't like it anymore then anyone else present, but he suspected the way he felt it was different then for others. To him, each flame snuffed was another flame that merged with the growing indignation of it all. He rememberd the feeling so vidily. They had been so.. so intense in his mind. And now there was silence.

The Behemoth offered no great comfort, the to small compartment was a pain for the bigger man and he felt like a sardin half the time. By the time they arrived, he was more then happy to disembark. He embraced the feeling of air on his face as he tried to regain his focus and composure proper this time around. The sight of the manor turned his face to one of scorn. He knew immedietly he and its owner would not see eye to eye. Flaunting money was one of the many things with the upper class he disliked. AS they entered, his mood soured even further, looking at the splendor of the interior. Some would feel awe or envy. He felt rightous anger. He quenced it however, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere far away as to leave the impression of control and dicipline.

His eyes only left that spot when the other soldier appeared. There was a brief moment of instant evaluation of his fellow Defender before he nodded, almost imperceptively. The nod was given a response that only Kain would know to inteptret. It was a kindred spirit. Someone who also bore the distinguishing mark of a sentinel on his soul. Sacrifice and stoic, unmoving resolve practically eminated from the man. Something that Kain found far more acceptable then the Mayor.

At the promise of food, something else then fire made itself known. A deep, hungry rumble from the deepest recesses of his stumache. Loud enough to be heard across the room. He smiled sheepishly as he followed the others. Only for their sniper Doch show up at his side. She asked about a cigarette and he turned to watch her. Perhaps for the first time. He raised a eyebrow.

”Sure. I say that shooting sure earned you one.” He said. His tone softer then he had meant it to be. He passed her the cigarette pack and let her take as many as she felt she needed before taking it back.”I am gonna see if I can't raid the kitchen while hotshot goes around bragging about his wealth” He added after he pocketed the cigarettes once more.

[Raijinslayer]

James Lockehart

---

Mrhil, Baron's manor

---

James having seemed to have seen the other man get ignored in his request for food, simply went off to take some for himself. He'd wander for a bit, his hand dragging along the wooden oak paneled walls to leave a trail of decay and rot in his wake. He would stop after awhile, of course, but he couldn't help but test his power on nearly everything he could find. It was fun to experiment, and the applications to combat were many and terrifying. he wondered if any of his other Soldiers had experienced anything similar, if that fight had caused all of them to suddenly evolve into something beyond human. An interesting though, but one for later, if ever, as currently he was concerned with finding the pantries so he could feed his groaning stomach. He eventually found it, and luckily enough, it was empty at the moment.

Opening up one of the fridge, he was quick to raid it of several packs of cheese slices, a bottle of sparkling wine, crackers, meat, and bread. He then made himself a simple set of about a dozen sandwiches, out them on a plate and left, cleaning after himself as he left. He'd wonder the manor in a bored manner for the most part, unsure what to do, until he found himself discovering a familiar silohuette when he decided to look into the windows of one of the offices. Feeling bored and having nothing better to do, he entered the area without a word of apology or announcement, cleaning the remains of his eighth sandwich from his fingers with a satisfying succession of pops. It was at this moment that he remembered that he had just used these hands to brutally and gorily murder and giant murder bird, but then he remembered that he'd been wearing gloves so he should be ine, and if not, than it might add protein or something.

He silently made his way next to Evangeline, holding up his plate of food in humble offering, whether it was just because he felt liek it or an apology for barging in on her alone time was hard to gauge. Whether she took one or not, he'd place it down on a nearby desk before taking a chair for himself and reclining back in it, releasing a tired sigh from his lips. Once again, he traced figures only he could see in the would, focusing ever so slightly to call the black energy to his finger, watching in fascination as it left black lines of rot and decay along the sides of the chair's leg.

"So, that was our first taste of battle?" James spoke out, his voice neutral in tone as he continued to trace a more recognizable figure, a figure eight, over and over again in the same place on the chair leg, causing the discoloration to darken as the corruption cit deeper into the wood. "Can't s say i was expecting much, but I must admit, that was something? I've never been so exhilirated, and at the same time, so terrified."

[Rockette]

SOLDIER Base — Saboteur Centre.

---

Almost twenty—four hours had passed since the departure of the SOLDIER contingent of one hundred fifty—five, pattered and inducted with randomized SOLDIER troops from separate units under the President's order; much to the glowering brow of one particular Sentinel Commander and his wife. And within those twenty—four hours a collective of digital information had been transferred through the frequencies of the Libra Scan system linked directly to the eternal collaborations of the Saboteur's Command Centre. The matrix was a complexity of particular codes that created a whorl of imagery in the presentation of textual evidence to the initial battle in the fields of Luan. Beryl oculi swept in increments over the supplied additions to the Libra Scan, properly assessing the evident threat of the fowl known to roost in the spires of Esper Ridge. A pale brow contoured, however, when the Libra Scan also assessed and calculated the lack of damage and severity when Phantasms — hellacious in their own prowess — seemed to glean over and object to a select few of the SOLDIERS. There was no evidence in the collected arithmetic that broadcast injury, despite the macabre results of sundered infantry and a Behemoth hull damaged.

That is what gave the Saboteur Commander pause.

The muffled whir and whoosh of the hub's solitary door withdrew her attention briefly, familiarity and warmth lightening her eyes to a tranquil cerulean in sequence with the bulbs flickering to life at the sound of dulls thuds and tread.

"How was the meeting?" Magdalena inquired, placing her back against the terminal continuing to process and analyze by the ascending matrix at it calculated through compilations of digital testimony.

"A waste of my time," Rene rejoined, propping his shoulder against azure—coated steel. "It's only from Haziq's and Kim's persistence that I even bothered to attend. Rayne was utterly pissed." His eyes slid over the petite and acute stature of his wife, eyes canted to one side in a curious pass over. "Did you know Ondřej Ó Dubhshláine?"

"I knew of him," she informed in the colour of nonchalance, arachnid fingers sweeping through her blonde fringe. "But not personally. I ran a scan, but only gleaned that he was apart of Aeon Technology. But that's a lost terminology, I took the liberty of researching through the archives but..." Magadalena sighed, a soft whisper of breath bubbling from her lips as her gesture swept over her brow and gathered across the bridge of her slight nose in a delicate pinch of frustration. "I can't gain clearance to anything associated with Aeons. The fact that Rayne was so enraged about Ondřej Ó Dubhshláine's death makes me ponder if there is some underlined connection to his demise and his previous occupation."

Rene scoffed. "Maybe you should have attended that meeting, I just stood there in the back whilst they all tossed shit back and forth, I couldn't make heads or tails of half of the things those scientists were hashing back 'n forth with the Council."

"I would have attended, but I don't want to be too far away from..." She gestured off handily over her slender shoulder, encompassing her entire terminal of the Saboteur Centre. The hub was minuscule, almost stifling and tomb like in the fortifications of steel and technology; ever span of alloy and walls laden with some model of precocious telecommunication. Rene often felt obtuse and gargantuan when he visited his wife, her own diminutive size bore enough testimony to their vast differences, much to the community's diversion. She bore a grin though, a delicate and fragile simper that was reserved just for him, and though brittle on the edges of her bow shaped mouth, it was endearing.

"I understand. But you need to rest, you're no use if you're tired." Rene chastised, his tone gruff, and potentially mistaken as crude, but to her it was of carefully cloaked care and kindness only she was privy to.

"I would, I will, when I figure out what's going on. I don't like these secrets and suspicions suddenly popping up even since I managed to dismantle the hack. In nearly a day, everything we've known is being brought into question. Even this battle information is... off." Magdalena pirouetted on her heel to face and confront her terminal, the screen emblazoned in lapis. "And everything I attempt to research is either blocked or suspiciously barren, even the files of our fellow SOLDIERS. I ran a simple diagnosis over the ones selected for the mission, other than their recent physicals and health records, there is almost nothing for their histories." A swift pass of her palm across the screen maximized the files in question, each SOLDIER individually displayed with their numerical epitaphs glimmering above each profile portrait. "I'm beginning to even doubt the information of their names, ages, and even these health records. It's too neat, proper, as if carefully illustrated for some purpose..."

Rene's brow fell, harsh and broad, his expression one of brooding and foreboding contemplation. "Have you spoken to Kim about this?" He muttered, clipping his voice low to avoid the rage boiling within. Whilst Magdalena sired her company under sabotage and secrets, he disfavoured the inclination of secrecy and lies; you never knew what was real anymore.

"No," she admitted with a sliver of pallid bone against her pout. "I haven't told anyone of what I'm doing in here, Olivia and I briefly discussed our suspicions outside the Council Chambers, but she quickly left after that. I don't know where she is..."

"She wasn't at the meeting." Rene concluded, eyes never leaving the profiles of the SOLDIERS. His gaze flickered, darkened on the pass of Henri's file and swiftly fell onto the blonde whirlwind of cheer and exuberance that was overbearingly bright and searing with her vocals and smiles. A minute passed between his events of scrutiny, every SOLDIER presented bore some kind of connection, a deeply pitted and seeded thread of Fate — this he believed. It could not be considered a coincidence, Rene did not adhere to happenstance. Experience had violated and mutilated that luxury of chance in his life, alongside with torturing Magdalena's complexity of persecution and paranoia.

"Where is Kim now?" She breathed, drawing and severing his glowering fixation on her screen.

"I assume they went back towards the Medical Wing," Rene supplied, carefully watching and observing as she began rapidly tacking in her process of suspension on her terminal, the sheer amount of gates and method of access daunting as she enclosed each of her modules of research and information. Until finally the screen winked to an ebony glow and finally shimmered with the insignia of the Dalmasice government: the crest of a blue whorl.

"Good then, hopefully I'll run into a couple of your favourite scientists as well." Magdalena uttered, ascending up the platforms of her command centre, lights humming to life as she came into near eye level with her husband, peering endlessly into the earthen stare she knew intimately. "Join me? We haven't spent much time together in months."

"Of course."

And the Commanders of Sentinel and Saboteur left, determined to shed light on their suspicions and ominous quarrels.

Mrihl — The Manor

---

She had been gazing vacantly at the martial flex of her hands, palms out, digits splayed, her scrutiny deliberate despite the coating of nylon and metallic woven fibers that protected her dexterous implements. When she realized that she was no longer alone, that was the official sundering of her peculiar, vacant observation, and she slowly twisted her wrists, aligning them almost in perfect horizontal performance in juncture to her forearms despite the strain of sinew. Every satisfactory pop from her impromptu companion made her twitch, the sounds assaulting her ears and nerves, fraying them into queer sensations that spiraled up each of her arms, fingers curling inward to her palms until she thrust her fists down, planting them firmly at her sides.

"Yeah..." Evangeline whispered, meticulous sighs and breaths following, chest rising and falling as she slid her gaze along, peering through the dark, ebony—gold of her fringe of lashes. Exhilaration and terror both masquerading within their hearts and souls, spiraling outward into their intentions and making them ruthless and efficient, yes. . . "It was something, all right." She managed to compound her sigh, carefully accentuating her cadence in favour of smothering her blossoming discomfort from her previous silence and contemplation.

"You kind of lost yourself." She blurted out then, unsure and incapable of discerning if she was referring to herself, or to him. She recalled to the manic laughter and squeals of the Eagle he had torn apart, the communication channel providing the entire unit with evidence to his brief moment of sadistic lunacy. Evangeline studied James carefully. In truth, she had been anticipating Luc to locate her, to follow up on the conversation to formalize a proper stratagem. Or, the rest of the SOLDIER contingent to host a meeting to discuss the battle. Or, the elusive shadow that had yet to return to the Manor, but James was not the one she had been expecting at all. He appeared too casual, too at peace with himself despite the battle — as if he had come to terms with the yielding results of death and ruin.

She had not.

Evangeline had no answer to why the gusts of terrible, slaying wind had spared her and Hally, and yet had flayed apart skin and bone and even damaged the hull of the Behemoth. She should have been damaged, skin should have bled and peeled apart in the manner of separating muscle and veins... She reflected on their first conversation, the official bequeathing of his name accompanied by their eager admissions to battle and the shared exhilaration they shared. But. That battle had been too different.

And that's when she realized she had not thought of Hally at all.

She almost panicked, and if not for James sitting there, natural in his reclining figure and tracing idle figures against the wood, she would have bolted from the office. She silently scolded herself, despair coating her oculi, drowning the respective Heterochromia as her brow contoured and fell, her mind awash in near shame. No wonder she felt off—centre, no wonder. . .

"How are you so calm?" Evangeline inquired, palms flush against the desk suddenly, slapping the wood with a groan and snap of her armour nearly fracturing the furniture, the top briefly shuddering as she leaned forward. "That battle... Did you notice anything strange? Did you see anything?" She continued, her tangent slipping into a frenzied flourish, the blonde Saboteur hovered, drawing closer to impale her bi—coloured stare deep into the depths of his scarlet gaze.