✦ F L A S H B A C K — T H E A F T E R P A R T Y ◇ J u n e 5 ◇ A c l u b i n N e w A t r i a s
The Oakridge graduation party was a spectacular event, but what most students really looked forward to was the after party in the city. Each year, New Atrias and its clubs and hotspots knew that they would be invaded by the academy students, so they always prepared a warm welcome with the best drinks, performances, and music. Even if the world had basically come to an end, some of the wealthier city-states still lived akin to how the rest of Libra did before the Calamity.
The after party was the height of the year for Olivia. Going to the city and party was one of her favorite endeavors, and she had dragged along a wealth of different people from the academy on numerous occasions. Some of them were more inclined to tag along than others, but sooner or later they admitted to have had a good time.
The night was young, but the parties around the city were already pumping. Olivia had ended up at some trendy club with neon lights and experimental drinks. The atmosphere was already thick and warm from the crowd at the dancefloor, the pulsating music made new arrivals move their hips as they entered, and the bright and flashing lights gave the impression of another dimension altogether. Olivia could not help herself but to sway hips as she made her way to the bar. She attracted a bit of attention in her fabulous, black dress that ended by her thighs, and black pumps that added a few inches to her height.
It was going to be a night to remember for a long time. It marked the end of the student life at Oakridge and the beginning of the cruelty of the real word and the war. This was their chance to forget all about it, for just one night.
T H E F I E L D S ◇ J u n e 6 ◇ B a t t l e w i t h t h e E a r t h
The scenery grew darker and more ominous for each passing moment. The winds were authoritative enough to swirl Olivia’s rain soaked hair about, and flashes of lighting kept striking the earth within sight of the stranded Guardians. The oncoming convoys from Oakridge began to thin out as the battle with the earthen Mordrem begun. Olivia was stricken by panic for a second by the realization that nobody would stop to help them. Surely, she could act tough and collected, but her inner thoughts and emotions were often completely different from what could be seen on her face or actions.
Monika’s candor translated equally to her actions. The frigid woman commanded the attacks against the vile creature, which rumbled about and upheaved the earth. Olivia quickly stepped side to side and swung her blade at oncoming rocks and debris. Monika’s spirit unleashed their radiating power and washed a sensation of strength upon the Guardians. Nicholas took advantage of that strength and attacked the antagonistic creature with intimidating fury, a dexterous display. Olivia held her weapon tight, a steady stance, ready to synchronize her efforts with one of her fellow Guardians. She was about to make the creature know her capability, but the clash of the titans held her at bay. Graham’s commentary after some impressive acrobatics was the nudge Olivia needed to take action.
“Rogart, get down!” Olivia shouted as she darted towards the hulking man. She leapt off his enormous back towards the monstrous creature, her blade held with both hands above her head. Her half-moon arched body soared through the air and sliced one of the creature’s tentacles off upon impact. Olivia tumbled over its head and slid down its back to land on the ground behind it. The monstrosity roared in agony and curled up to grow a hardened bark all over its body in a matter of seconds. Olivia unleashed a flurry of strikes behind the Mordrem enormity, but the protective bark did not falter. The creature responded with violently throwing its remaining tentacles about, one of which hit Olivia in the chest and catapulted her away. She grunted as her body slid across the soaked grass and mud a few meters away, on the opposite end to her comrades.
“Come on, hit it again!” Olivia shouted from where she lay in the dirt. It was then that the monstrosity began to grow its fungus into mushrooms the size of cats. These fungal creatures bounced and trotted their way to the ground and towards the Guardians, spreading their vile spores.
✦ K I N A B A L U S U M M I T ◇ J u n e 6 ◇ A d a r k f i g u r e
The trek towards the entrance of the mine had been rather uneasy. Everyone seemed tense, even the wolf. He had managed to agitate Subira in some manner from their brief conversation. Selene remained silent at the helm of the path, which ended in a massive cleft at the top of the mountain. The storm reached them in all its fury. It was not yet raining, but strong winds carried sulfurous scents from the depths of Kinabalu wherein the One of Fire dwelled, and thunder struck the peaks with shattering force. Beyond the cleft was a clearing. A massive structure was awaiting the Guardians, likely the entrance to the Nexus mine. Selene slowed the team down and peeked through the cracks of hardened rock, a narrow path leading ahead. They knew nothing about this place. The Eidolon could be waiting around the corner, ready to turn them into ash.
“Death comes for us all, might as well be here.” Selene marked Roxie’s comment, and then she squeezed through the cleft.
But the clearing was silent. There was nothing to be seen as far as the eyes could carry them, except for one thing. By the colossal doors stood a strange anomaly, swirling shadows of some sort. Selene could not quite make it out unless she approached it. With a flawless movement she drew and unfolded her weapon into its haunting scythe form, and then slowly moved forward. The closer the Guardians ventured, the clearer it became that the anomaly had the silhouette of a person. Xander began to whimper slightly, sensing danger. It was probably a reaction of instinct rather than what his consciousness would have done in the situation. The shadowy figure did not move, nor did it indicate anything other than hostility.
“Who are you?” Selene finally uttered at the sapphirine eyes that were now distinguishable.
✦ N E X U S R E A C T O R ◇ J u n e 6 ◇ T h e r u i n s
The storm broods, drawing closer. The creatures fester and sense their prey. Something sinister lurks within . . .
FLASHBACK — Oakridge students have arrived in New Atrias to party all night before deployment. Olivia has found her way to a club with neon lights, funky music, and exotic drinks. Whoever so wishes can be with her at this event.
THE FIELDS — Olivia propels herself into the air with aid from Rogart and attacks the Mordrem creature. She slashes one of its tentacles completely off, which provokes the creature to use its ’bunker bark’ ability. Olivia then tries to hit it from behind several times, but the bark is rather tough. The creature then uses its ’lashing tentacles’ ability, which hits Olivia and pushes her away. Gastridamon uses its ’vile fungus’ ability thereafter.
KINABALU — The team reaches the summit and the entrance to the Nexus mine. There they stumble upon a shadowy figure guarding the gates. Selene asks who it is.
Kinabalu Mission Entrance to the Mines Cameron Thael Conrad
As they walked up the path, Thael naturally moved to the front of the group. The path set him on edge, and he donned his helmet before drawing his spear and shield. Despite their intelligence gathering, they had very concrete information to act on. The only real consensus was that they’d be facing fire in some way or another. It was unfortunate then that none of them were particularly affiliated with water or ice spirits. Subira could work her healing trick though, perhaps she could improvise that spirit into an offensive form somehow.
On the approach to the mine, it began to look increasingly like they were dealing with the legendary Eidolon of fire. Thael grimly looked away from the burnt out shadows that had once been people.
Roxelana finally gave voice to the discomfort they were all feeling. Thael was quick to voice his assent, stamping down on his irritation at Selene’s macabre declaration. “I feel it too. Everybody get in close behind me, I’m going to keep Surana ready to shield us all. Let’s make this trip for scouting only; the second we make contact with the Eidolon, I want an orderly withdrawl back here so we can come up with a strategy. We have multiple mission outcomes on this one. Talking the Eidolon down would be nice, setting it on the Mordrem would be even better, but we may have to settle for a less desireable outcome depending on the situation. Any objections?”
He’d had his back turned to the mine, but the Timberwolf’s whimper alerted him to danger. Thael whirled around, assessing the situation in an instant. A figure wreathed in shadows, literally. Someone with a strong spiritual affinity then. Up here, alone, when everyone else had run, certainly not part of their mission. Perhaps an Agressor. At best, neutral, at worst, actively hostile. He slammed his shield into the ground, and a barrier of light sprang up between his team and the stranger.
On the off chance it was a lost villager, he called out: “It’s not safe here, you should leave the area.”
Thael readies for combat as they ascend the path. Outside the mine, he attempts to take command, suggesting their first trip into the mine be solely for scouting purposes. Upon seeing the strange figure, Thael activates Surana, forming a defensive barrier, and advises the strange figure to leave.
Hammer of the Army The Fields Kyle Ademnon Conrad
Even in the armoured transport vehicle, Kyle could still feel the storm raging outside. The rain reverberated off the hull, and wind jostled them from side to side. As a junior student, Kyle was relegated to the tail end of the Hammer convoy, ostensibly the safest place to be. Considering where they were going though, “safe” was a relative term.
The vehicle swerved sharply, dislodging packs and boxes from their storage racks. Kyle checked his HUD; evidently a large Mordrem had appeared just ahead. A few Guardians were engaging it, names he didn’t recognize except...Olivia Celestine. Of course she’d managed to get herself in trouble at the first possible opportunity. Thael had told him and Kevin that Olivia would watch out for them, but at the moment, it looked very much like she was more in need of rescuing than any of the Conrad brothers. Of course, Kyle was also itching for action, but far better to justify it as a rescue.
Kyle clambered up to the drivers at the front of the vehicle. “Stop the transport, those Guardians need assistance,” he said shortly. The driver shook his head. “Sorry, orders are to keep moving, no stopping for anything.” “Alright, your choice bud,” Kyle shrugged, then drew his greatsword. After a moment of concentration, it began to glow red, and blue sparks climbed up and down its length. “What are you doing?” the driver asked nervously. “Helping them out obviously. Don’t worry about it, Cataclasia won’t have any problem punching through the hull. I think the Mordrem’s somewhere over there?” he waved his sword nonchalantly at the right hand wall of the transport. The driver swore, and hit the breaks. His co-pilot however, grinned. “Go get ‘em kid.”
“Thanks bud, will do.” Kyle returned the grin, then clambered out the roof hatch. The height advantage gave him a clearer shot at the Mordrem. He planted his feet firmly, and activated his radio. “Hey kids, heads up, facemelter incoming!”
His HUD outlined the Mordrem and highlighted the creature’s head. Kyle adjusted his aim carefully, then summoned his spirits. The sword glowed red again, the sparks of electricity growing more intense. Suddenly, a crackling red beam blasted out of the sword, arcing across the sky in an instant and slamming into the Mordrem’s head in a deluge of fiery energy.
The beam fizzled out after a second or two, leaving Kyle panting and laughing on the roof of the transport. “BOOM! Headshot!”
Kyle convinces his transport drivers to stop, climbs on the roof, and uses Cataclasia against Gastridamon’s head.
F L A S H B A C K — T H E A F T E R P A R T Y J u n e 5 A c l u b i n N e w A t r i a s
Ezra gazed around the club, and took within its dualism of darkness brightened by bright and shining lights. The music blared, piercingly permeating through his mind, and he took it within him like breath. There was no peace here, and thus peace there was.
Ezra was stilled surprised that he had allowed himself to be dragged away, and towards something like this. He had never before visited a club, and he still had no urge in him to ever visit one again. Yet something within him made it so that he did not regret coming here, if only for a single day. There was something melancholy about graduation, and for that reason he sought solace in something which would give him of a proper ending. Of all the places he had lived, he was happiest here at the Academy.
Beside him was Olivia. He remembered when he only saw in her an intellectual rival that needed to be surpassed. He surely had been foolish then. Now he had come to her as a friend.
“You know, there was a time when I thought I held you in contempt. I had to surpass you, intellectually if in nothing else. Really, I just idolized. In my mission to be better, I delved deep into my studies, and one day I saw just how beautiful the world and spirits I studied were, and I abandoned that silly of obsession of mine.
“Actually, I don’t know why I’ve told you any of this. I suppose I thought I could trust you with it. But it felt good for me to say it to someone, finally. I suppose I said because, well, it seems like we’re all going away to war. Some of us will not come back, and the rest of I’ll bet’ll be changed.”
“But for now I think I’ll just enjoy myself. You’ve always had a way of lightening things. So, do you think I could a drink here?”
T H E B A R Ezra Malchut Recruits of Doral
Ezra was definitely a long way from the Academy. Undeterred, Ezra stepped across the creaking wooden floor and towards the bald bartender in his monochrome outfit, annoying a few denizens who were uncomfortable for this young upstart being so close.
“Can I help you?” the bartender said, the hint of hostility none too subtle.
“Yes,” said Ezra. “There’s something I want to know, someone I want to find.”
The bartender gave a mirthless chuckle. “We get a lot of people through, some don’t stay long. But go ahead, boy. Who’s this you’re looking for?”
“I don’t have a name-” began Ezra.
“‘Course,” the bartender scoffed.
“But tell me, of all those who has been in Doral, whose the strongest?”
“The strongest? Tell me kid, where’d you come from?”
“I’m a Guardian.”
“You, a guardian?” and then the bartender scoffed again. “Must’ve just graduated, then. Listen, kid, this isn’t Oakridge. Looking like that and talking like that, you can’t really expect anyone to take you seriously. This isn’t your Academy, kid. Nobody knows anything ‘bout this ‘strongest.’ Go ask the others, and they’ll tell you they’re the strongest.”
“Well,” Ezra said.
So Ezra tried again, approaching a table occupied by a group of men gambling with cards whose appearances warranted worry on the veracity of their virtue, and who it was apparent that they were drunk. The leader was a man who wore a dirty fedora, with a bold-eyed prostitute sitting on his lap, and had a wicked laugh. As Ezra approached, they stared at him, their roguish smiles not vanishing as they gazed at him with sneering expressions.
“Well, now look what we have here!” the hatted man said. “I saw you with the bartender over there, kid, and I saw how he tossed you away. What can I help you with?”
“I am looking for the strongest among all in Doral,” Ezra said.
The hatted man laughed and said, “You’re lookin’ at him.”
Ezra eyed him, and he said, “I…don’t think you fit the description.”
“Oh, so do you, now?” said the hatted man. “I suppose you think you’re pretty tough, then?”
“Tougher than you, at least,” said Ezra.
“Well, we’ll see about that!” said the hatted man.
He came up with a punch, which surprised the prostitute, who gave a look of horror and quickly left from the hatted man’s lap. Ezra ducked the punch, and gave a strike of his own. An uppercut knocked the hatted man off from his chair and from consciousness. His friends got up from their seats to assist their leader, and lunged at Ezra. However, their movements were sluggish and disorganized, and Ezra dispatched of them easily.
“Get out!” said the bartender.
And Ezra was glad to leave, as he saw that there was nothing more to be gain there.
In a flashback, Ezra attends a post-graduation party at a club, and he reveals, surprisingly, how he feels, and how his outlet on the world has matured since he arrived at the Academy. Meanwhile, in the present day Ezra pursues the hint his note gave, asking for who the strongest in Doral is. This results in a fight between him and a drunk, and he is kicked out and forced to ask elsewhere.
T H E F I E L D S. // June 6. // H a m m e r O f T h e A r m y.
There, within, was a profound wealth of pride, power, and excitement.
Hubris engorged the slick death of Caladbolg, grooves of unique fixture and ebon finish swelled to the mass with the venom of ichor drenched and flush down to the taut vice of her unwavering conviction. The impenetrable glacier of her stare brimmed and gleamed with the spirits embedded into her being, ingrained and fixated to the wrath and absolution of her physical might. Monika inhaled, swift tendrils of luminescence shimmering abroad and enduring the onslaught of the deluge coating her construct and stalwart stance; booted feet shifted in the mud, muck clumping thickly as her heels dug in, sloshing tracks into the deadened slop of Earth as the storm raged every on. Eternally fixated in the wiles of battle conduct and merciless fortitude, Monika hardly noticed the weight of her chaotic braid coming loose at the binding, ebonette threads were suctioned and wed to the planes of her hardened battle visage, and thin lines of waning carmine diluted from the downpour as her Guardian constitution spiked, allowing her former injury to begin the process of healing the bruised flesh. She had previously penetrated the earthen shell of the Mordrem, impaling her sword and being the initial strike of death and fury that led a champion effect onto her companions; she would later admit she was impressed by them, by their haste and reaction, and found a glimmer of dependency in their blows. Monika withdrew, only slight, witnessing with the eyes of an observer of critical deduction and conduct; each strike they would lay pinged a chord, a vibrating thread of intensity and something more correlating down to the centre of her being.
She was. . . Enthralled.
The bewitchment was not lost to her, no, Monika was not so easily deduced by her own rigidity and obedience. Her soul and spirit were eclipsed in ice, in uniform severity and straight edges that refused to yield, but the esoteric monstrosity before her - burdened by pain and terrifying cries of anguish and vengeance - appealed to a yawning groan betwixt her physical and spiritual existence. It was an abyss of hunger, a pool of curling and swarming need and pit that roared for glory, victory, and the sin of Gluttony. Monika's self analysis, though, would have to wait; when reality came in droves of thunder and lightning and the sweltering heat of the field turned thick and suffocating, nearly assaulting to the frigid complexion of herself. The coolness of her skin was alive in shimmering hues, a light that was hardly noticeable in the purity of daylight, but here in the thicket of storm and ruin, she could see the whorl of spirits that thrived there - out in the open, being the shield and barrier against any and all. When Graham launched his assault, his daggers penetrating deeper into the hide, she had to applaud his ability to hold on whilst the creature thrashed and roared, attempting to dislodge the man who - unbeknownst - was proving himself to Monika when she fixated those icy hues onto him, her sword angled at her flank and cleansed from the sludge of the beast by the heavy pellets falling onto them.
When Olivia pivoted herself from the broad spine of a literal mountain of gargantuan muscle and flesh - Rogart, she recalls him saying on the transports - Monika followed up behind her, barely avoiding the writhing tentacle she had successfully detached with her impressive grace. Monika had sparred and combated against her numerous times, she was well informed of the deadly efficiency in her traditional and initial prototype of a blade, so it was no shock or surprise to witness her rise and prove ability to Graham's jeer towards her previous stance. Champion to the call. Her acute sense alerted her to duck down then, immediately surrendering her weight to descend as she became parallel to the ground, mud grasping at her form compressed to the pitch as Olivia soared overhead and within her suspended position, Monika felt the vibrations of her impact that slid her onto the opposite sides of the field. Monika felt the spiritual wrath of the Mordrem increase, the bark ridged and planed over the body bearing mark of the gun blade, but was impenetrable nearly like her fortitude and will, she carefully considered the new testimonies to the battle and adjusted accordingly. Caladbolg never faltered, it never failed, for the blade that personified her strength and power was not allowed to fail.
Monika launched to her feet, grasping her sword a new, and redoubled her efforts until the multitude of spores began to writhe and expand, their caps quivering and unleashed from their host. The fungi began to swell, a size that barely held any imitation, but the cloud of infectious spores was what gave Monika pause. Her brow surrendered, concentration blurring the border of her previous enthrallment until a cloud of the vile spew landed on her forearm slick with rain and mud, immediately the surface hardened, crystals of ice encrusting the entire limb and shimmering with the power laden in each of the tines that began climbing up to her shoulder, alarming her to the rate of growth. Monika lurched back, her sword descending in an acute whistle as it severed and cleaved, effectively decimating a contingent of the fungi before her until they began to swarm and spread onto the others. Her teeth ground, grinding against one another until her lip parted upon a cry, her sword before her and shimmering with the ribbons of her virtuous valor.
"Don't let the spores touch you!" It was all of a warning she could supply, as the Mordrem host wobbled into a pitch and sway, the domination quickly vanishing, the disappearance enlightening her to a newly acquired method to vanquish her foe. Until a beam of plasma suddenly launched, the superheated rage reflecting in the diamond barrier and pitched a series of sighs from the raw power displayed. She recognized naught the Guardian, but his appearance poised atop the roof of the transport was almost surreal. She didn't know why, but somewhere within, she had been anticipating assistance, or rather, an appearance. Maybe, just maybe, a part buried deep beneath the tundra of her soul, she was hoping to see them.
Family. . . She thinks. Don't they always come when one needs to saved? Salvation.
Monika heaved her sword abroad, Calabolg swarming and shimmering, eclipsed in the holy wrath of her spirits that belted out cries of absolution and purpose, their mortal faces and vulpine attributes allowed in varying hues of gold. He was a joker, a light hearted aficionado much like Graham; but he was no salvation, he was not a hero no matter his position and power. Absolution and strength here would rely in only herself, Monika knew that. But then - her sword swung down once more, silencing her, and penetrating through more of the vile fungi and lanced overhead, spearing deep into the Mordrem that had turned to face her assault. The head a swirl of violated flesh and stream of ichor, and the terrible cry shuddering her down the marrow as another spear of light catapulted from the head of her Caladbolg to canter after the first. The sheer power launched her back, nearly several feet and closer to the transport where Monika nearly collided with the hull.
N E X U S R E A C T O R. // June 6. // W i t h i n t h e R u i n s.
They were hasty and efficient to the Reactor depths and ruins, and Ollie nodded in his mute satisfaction at that. Though he still compared the contingent to the silent followings of lambs onto the belt of slaughter, the brief reflection of their initial power began the process of proving valor and character to the man who personified his personality and morals as a thin sheet of silver laden glass infused with ebony corruption. No matter, his thoughts supplied, the Magus Bow carefully nocked as he gave a brief scope of the exterior. The Army was beginning to push back on the lesser hordes of Mordrem, securing the entry when the last of the Guardians vaulted up the steps, he released a final arrow and grappled for the door then, grunting in his excursion until the door came to and shut with a distinctive clang of metal and locks falling into their purpose. Ollie stepped back, observing the interior with fresh perspective now that they had a supply of efficient light.
"Great idea, you take point." He instructed, holstering his bow in tandem with the sheath of Eric's rapier. "We'll go in a line, since these cat walks," he gestured to the grated path ways with railing welded to either side; the series and multitude of ladders and piping, the entire reactor a near maze like construct that was now revealed in assistance to Eric's spiritual orbs. "Won't provide much else room." Ollie glanced to the women then, swiftly analyzing with a curl of his lip lifting into a simper, one designed to cajole and smooth any inflection and a mere shadow and reflection of his usual aplomb. "I'll take the rear, you three stay in between, with your sniper and those chakrams, you make up an efficient range to mid range combatant should we run into any stray Mordrem here. We'll communicate with hand signals, I don't want anything knowing we're here."
Of course, there were other reasons Ollie was designating himself to follow, instead of spearheading their line, from the final construct of their unit, he could easily gather the information he required: the constructs of the Reactor, the internal hard drives left behind by those who operated the facility and to efficiently see that operations here continued without hindrance. Julian had special reservations with the Reactor and the primary location at the Dark Zone. Outside the storm continued to swell and brood and thunderous claps echoed from the exterior and seemed amplified by the depths of the Reactor awaiting their journey.
"Now. Let's see if we can't locate the breakers for these damn lights."
But, as they began to traverse the various cat walks, Ollie felt the sensation of peculiar wonderment and curiosity, it made his skin crawl and the penetrating ebony of his stare to narrow. Glancing over his shoulder, he attempted to inspect the shadows, that foreboding switch continuing to assault and violate his sense, and his steps almost faltered when he swore that the depresses of black conformed and moved and a quiver sent a swift rattle through the grating beneath his feet. So, something was following them. Ollie wondered if it was another intention of Julian's, perhaps there indeed was something he also desired here in the ruins of decay of metal and abandonment. He inhaled sharply, glancing up the line of his companions, wondering if they too felt and noticed anything amiss. He briefly considered aimless chatter, to diffuse attention and silence and simply hastened his stride, stepping close the Guardian nearest to him and kept his gazes and observation occupied. But, the flashing bulbs and dim luminescence reminded him of a previous endeavor, of where low lighting and vibrating cadences reined and the darkness swarmed and swayed, haunting and yet, inviting.
F L A S H B A C K — T H E A F T E R P A R T Y. // June 5. // A c l u b i n N e w A t r i a s.
When Ollie laughed it was rich and thick with charm, the timbre of his voice smooth and reminiscent of velvet desires. Though he was here on invitation, one that was taken by the refusal of another, he had taken it upon his own wiles to invite others from the Academy to join him. He had various associates outside Guardianship, common infantry troops that located Guardians as means to attention and attraction to these sorts of festivities. Ollie was nearly a regular patron, and his infectious laughter made swift purchase to the group of those surrounding him, creating a whorl of activity and jovial wonder. He was known to dress accordingly to the present state of fashion and his wardrobe reflected and testified to that eternally interchanging penchant of his. Most of his accomplices here donned for excessive and carnal sorts, with sequins and form fitting laces, and barely any imagination left to the oblique shutter of his eyes when he visually appreciated them. Ollie however was swathed in eternal monochromatics; with a button down of ivory over his front and the teasing glimpses of his ink embellished skin given through the material and rebellious lines swirling across the skin of his arms with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was artful and careful, deliberate and purposeful with a couple buttons undone and suspenders clipped and unused to blend with the aphonic thread of his dress pants, as if he had retreated from the formal dining of a reception.
Which in truth, he very much had escaped from the confines of a banquet, sired by his father and the BATW department upon his graduation. Ollie had shed and discarded the jacket and scarlet tie upon his entry into the club and a quick comb through his tresses had the strands nearly falling into his eyes. They had cheered upon his entrance, swarmed around him with sycophantic intentions and migrated to the dance floor without reservations for those already dominating there. The lights were hypnotic and searing, just the way he liked it. However his integrated practices of battle and simulations provided the habit of observing the fields, for even in the club, it was a battle. One of bodies, charm, and lust. It was at the bar where he saw them, quite the unique pair, he would later muse. Olivia and that curious Ezra fellow, in which, had he ever talked to the latter individual? Ollie processed that swiftly before the weight of a body swirled into his arms, severing his concentration and trading it for a quick dip and bend, his body conforming the one against him and dipping her low to the shimmering dance floor alive in colours as the song ascended in tempo and nearly demanded he keep in tandem with the beat thrumming through him.
K I N A B A L U S U M M I T. // June 6. // P u r p o s e a n d F a t e.
She'll find the answer, not now maybe, but she'll bring herself to propose the inquiry another time when she's kneeling in the dirt, lost and spent and brought to the end of her measures as they fight on, it'll be in the last catches of breath when she finally finds the answer.
But there had been no answer; only pain.
The figure before the entrance into the mines drew up. The wealth of shadows teeming about them immediately rising higher, the claps of thunder overhead summoning strikes of lightning that penetrated the backdrop, the mountains peaks seeming to shudder with the amount of force and energy compounded within their spires and before their gates. The thicket of obsidian wraiths parted, briefly allowing the figure to step forward to meet the Guardians appearing through the cleft left within the fissure at the top of the path. Her eyes glimmered and narrowed, the sapphire depths darkening as she counted each, confirming what she had felt previously that morning. She continued her observation, her perspective altering just so, enough to provide a clear representation of her profile clothed in black. The figure was donned in uniform, a much older model of the current dressing most of Oak Ridge assigned to their students. On top of that was a literal cloak of a void, as if she wore her spirits in a literal sense despite the sheer mass of shadows swarming over the entire clearing. The eclipse of her own shadow began to yawn forth, stretching out in the swarthy imitation of a hand, fingers poised as if to grasp them.
But, stopped short at the inquiry offered.
"Who. . ." She breathed. It spurred a disturbance in the shadows, each of them vibrating, pulsating, as if the very question was a physical wound to their ruby cores. They continued to fluctuate, reminiscent of a heart beat as a shield of burning light made the figure flinch, the edges of the holy rapture combating against the shadows that fell back, retreating from the protective barrier and wailed in their protest and offense. The sounds were deep moans and wails, howls that shuddered through the air and accompanied the pounds of thunder increasing in their oscillating power as the storm came upon the threshold. The wind disturbed blonde tresses belonging to the figure until the shadows imparted once more and she came forth, toeing the circumference of light the shield projected and here, it was briefly noticeable, the resemblance and infamy of a Guardian that none spoke of, a family shamed, a family never uttered. She peered through the light with her sapphire eyes, penetrating each and finally they fell upon the wolf, where her apathetic glamour shifted, reflecting something within as her shadows wailed.
And then silence.
"You're correct. It is not safe here." Vermilion lines began to form, almost serpentine and cording around her iris in both of her eyes. The sclera bubbling with black, the lines of her corruption swelling until her stare was of infernal hell fire. "Who I am is not of importance, but what you want is. Has Fate seen you to these doors, has purpose designated you here, to meet me, to the now. I would know your intentions, all of you. For I protect this place and all that lies within it." Her shadow seemed to expand, teeming the edges of the light, testing the strength of the holy luminescence and began to push, just so, almost tentative as it tried to reach for each of the Guardians, to access their emotional depths and truth.
THE FIELDS — Monika feels something aside from her usual emotions, a hunger she cannot explain. But the battle distracts her, and she's impressed mildly by everyone present. When the fungi begin to move, her spirit of Diamant forms on her skin, trying to shield her from the effects of their spores. Attacking them and slicing up a number of them, she intends to attack G A S T R I D A M O N once more, but is distracted by the new Guardian. He makes her think of her family and salvation and in her need to silence those thoughts, she used her spirit Vergeltung twice to follow up on his attack and is thrown back several feet from it.
REACTOR — Ollie closes the door to the reactor, glad everyone has followed suit and gives out instruction to how they'll proceed. The depths of the Reactor is like a maze within, prompting further exploration as Ollie suggests they find the breakers for the lights. As they continue on, he feels something, a sensation of being watched and notices, he think, something lurking in the shadow. But he ignores it, thinking it's another part of his own mission and plans for the ruins. Here, in his thoughts, he thinks upon his memories.
FLASHBACK — Ollie is in the club, of course, after having escaped the reception held previously in his graduation. On the dance floor with his random partner and group of associates, he loses himself into the music and beat, intending to enjoy himself. He has noticed Olivia and Ezra, but made no move to join them.
KINABALU — The figure is revealed as feminine and wears an old, forgotten version of an Oak Ridge uniform. She approaches the Guardians, ignoring those who had spoken and propels her own questions, intending to ask what they are doing here and their purpose, attempting to use Empathy to reach them past the shield of light.
O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y -[]- Serenity Danvers -[]- The Nexus Reactor
Serenity held her chakrams near her tightly as they made their way forward. As they continued towards their destination, she noticed the creatures approach them as if they were lying in wait the whole time. Mordem. She read about these things before, but it was different seeing them outside on the field than in the pages of a book.
It took only an instant before the others gave way towards them. Ollie seemed at home on the field, lighting the creatures with his arrows. The others seemed at ease too. She didn't want to admit her feelings of inadequacy, but now wasn't the time to hold back. She blasted forward, throwing her chakrams at the nearest Mordem, slicing through it as it let out a small cry. She grabbed her weapon as it came back and started slicing at the next one near it. The chakrams allowed for easy movement and she was gracefully flowing through the field. They made quick work of the creatures.
She let out a small sigh. She did it. She smiled at the others, who didn't seem to share her feelings of succeeding in battle. She kept it to herself as she lagged behind the others. They came to a dark corridor of the Reactor. Eric lit the way with the small orbs around him. Serenity was thankful for the light source, however small. Darkness hid many things.
Ollie seemed to take the lead in this case as he had the others follow him. She was about to ask about the hand signals, fumbling in her mind as to what they were (there was just so many to learn!) but she felt a cold shiver run down her neck. She sensed that Ollie knew it too because his hand motioned for them as she glanced around. Something was off in this room. Who or what...that remained to be seen. Serenity clutched at her chakrams, glancing around. She thought she saw a small movement in the corner, but it could be her own imagination.
Or is it?
Serenity kicks butt and follows the others into the Reactor. She also senses something off in the room, much like what Ollie has noticed.
K I N A B A L U S U M M I T ◆ Subira Arendse ◆ A Dark FigureThe sulfur smell that drifted from the top of the mountain had only clarified Subira's suspicion and Roxelana's comment, and it seemed that the same tension in the air that made her stomach churn and flip was being felt by the rest of the group. While she'd usually brush off Selene's dark remarks, Subira had felt the other girl's words hit her to the core. She knew only rumors of Selene's mentality, hearing about it from others gossiping in the locker room of the gym or in the classes they shared. It was a conversation Subira never joined only because she didn't care, and not only did she not care for gossiping, she didn't care about how Selene felt. Besides seeing her in the gym they had no relationship, but if Selene was really going to bring that kind of attitude into such a crucial mission, Subira was going to make sure it wouldn't effect the team or the outcome of their assignment.
Following behind Thael, as the team crept through the crack, the same tension they had felt coming up the mountain seemed to increase exponentially as they came to the clearing. Despite the wind, the air felt thick, and as Subira took in the massive structure before her and the rest of the Guardians, her eyes widened as she caught sight of the dark figure at the entrance of the mine. Selene was quick to question the stranger, while Thael laid out a plan and warned of danger that lay within the mountain. As he called upon his spirits and sprang forth a shield of light, Subira raised her fists to her side as she waited for the figure to reply or even move. Seconds seemed to move like hours, and as soon as the stranger spoke, a chill ran down her spine.
This person held no fear or tension in her tone, and even as she began to move Subira could not see any hesitation in her steps. Her aura was almost suffocating to be around, but once the bruiser stared into the woman's eyes she felt her stomach flip and her arms grow weak. Behind her large dark sunglasses, Subira's features were perfectly hidden. Lips tightened into her typical frown, while her dark eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty. Who, or what were they about to go up against? Was this the Eidolon, or was this another Guardian? All of this hesitation and overthinking was quickly going to her head but in the heat of the moment another sensation filled her.
With a chill down her spine, and a soothing rush of confidence at the pit of her stomach, all of her fear and hesitation she felt was taken with the wind. Internally, she began to rethink Xander's inquiry. 'Then your Spirits are uneasy.' She knew these feelings were not her own, but with little interaction with the beings dwelling within her, she could only assume these feelings were the encouragement of her Spirits.
Fist clenching and raising to her sides with her newfound courage, Subira's stance widened as she carefully watched the woman step close to the barrier of light. Her lack of caution made the bruiser tense, but a steady breath kept her from losing her cool. Eyes narrowing behind her sunglasses, Subira's lip tightened as the rest of the team had yet to reply to the woman's question. Not one to beat around the bush, a slow breath of confidence ran through her nostrils and chest before she finally spoke up on behalf of the other Guardians.
"We were sent here to investigate the claims of an Eidolon. We mean no harm," Her fists raised in warning as she said this, her hard gaze turning into a glare as she continued. "Unless harm is brought onto us." Standing at the edge of the group with her full focus laying on the mysterious woman, Subira had yet to notice the shadow reaching around the barrier growing closer to her ankle and the Guardians positions.
D A R K Z O N E ◆ Ophelia Ferrero ◆ In Etro's WillFor years the rim of the Dark Zone had been a silent threat, growing slowly and consuming Libra into its depths. Many were quick to flee and those that didn't soon witnessed their cities, towns, and villages grow into havens for crime and bandits. Some towns held on for years, retaining their peace and pride, but eventually they all fell crumbling back into the earth, or becoming nests for those who planned to use the worlds current situation to their own advantage. As criminals and bandits grew cocky in this new power, others knew to wait and listen. Those among the latter had taken notice of the growing silence within the Dark Zone. The lack of Army surveillance and Guardian sightings over the past two years had declined greatly, and eventually a swell of rumors had swept through the wasteland that many were quick to brush off.
Among the ignorant, it was only on the final day of May that Ophelia had been contacted by the All Father and her eyes had been opened. In his magnificent voice, Etro warned her of an approaching threat from the West. Warriors and Soldiers would rise and his great wrath would be unjustly quelled. This was an outcome she had to prevent, and with his holy words leading her way, the harbinger travelled west.
This was the closest she had travelled to the rim of the Dark Zone in years, and at its edges was just as prophesied. In the midst of a massive storm, Soldiers of the Army and Guardians from Oakridge were moving in a massive assault, stampeding through the wasteland as Mordrem swarmed the front lines. Keeping her distance, she scouted the field and took in the situation at hand. It was far too dangerous for her to move in any closer, but leaving the area without gaining any knowledge of why the Army was there would be a complete waste of effort. It was only then that the woman spotted two singled out armored vehicles. Broken down a ways from the rest of calvary, six remaining soldiers were fighting for their lives as Mordrem surrounded them. Cut off from the rest, the falling infantry was like a sheep who had lost its way from the flock, and Ophelia was the wolf who had finally found its prey.
✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖
"Keep firing!" Wind and rain whipped at the backs of the remaining Army unit. Their Sergeant and other comrades were already dead, and with the armored vehicle out of commission, the only thing they could do was shoot desperately at the approaching threat. They had downed two Mordrem by themselves, but three massive beasts were still surrounding the unit and they were running low on ammo. It seemed like all hope was lost, but in the midst of rain and wind a lone figure rose from the cliffside. Arm and body reeling back with a long slender lance in hand, electricity ran along the weapon lighting up the feminine figure of their savior, if only for a second. In a swift motion, the woman arched forward with great speed and strength as the lance was thrown precisely at the largest beast.
Spiraling through the air and cutting through the wind, steel met the hard shell of the insectoid as the lance pierced through the Mordrems first layer of defense. Sinking deep into its flesh and gaining the attention of the remaining two beasts, the figure on the cliffside raised a slender hand towards the sky. In awe, the Soldiers watched as the clouds rolled and in a brilliant flash lightening reigned from the sky, striking the impaled Mordrem in one fierce assault. A roar of pain and anguish rumbled from its chest as the impaled weapon allowed the electricity to go right into its tissue. With a guttural groan, the insectoid bloated grotesquely before popping in a spray of purple organs and blood.
"It's a Guardian!"
Jumping from her perch, the cloaked woman landed between the two Mordrem in the mess of purple guts and blood. Taking the weapon into hand, it hummed softly as the lance end collapsed into the handle while a long, equally thin blade grew out from the other end. The beasts roared and twisted around to attack as the woman was knelt between them, but in quick bursts of wind her body blurred and each swift swing of her blade sliced through the dense husks of each beast with ease. Sword in hand and face still hidden beneath the cloak's hood, the stranger now stood at the center of the halved and defeated beasts as they fell to the ground in heavy, wet thumps.
Hesitation was clear on the Soldier's faces as a tense silence followed the display of power. Some kept their aim on the armed woman, few lowered their weapons. Sword still drawn, and figure unmoving, she watched the small unit quietly and carefully. Interested to see their reactions now that she had played hero, the woman finally got her response from the most vulnerable of the group. With a weary smile on his face, the Soldier that had assumed she was a Guardian stepped forward with his gun lowered. "Thank you! Things were looking grim there. I don't know what we would have done had you not shown up." His words would have made the soft feel guilt, or the heroic feel gratitude, but Ophelia was not soft and she was not a Guardian. The Aggressor's display of heroism was all but an act, and her true, malicious intentions were now seething from her body in the form of magic.
Another tense pause followed the boy's reply, as his assumed savior stood in silence, but in a roll of thunder and a flash of lighting from above his eyes began to widen as he caught sight of her shadow. Morphing and bubbling behind her like hot black oil, misty limbs and hands began to reach out, clawing at the ground as multiple figures fought to free themselves from their dark prison. "No need for thanks," Ophelia said, as she removed the hood of her cloak, black hair whipping wildly from the wind and rain as menacing dark eyes defeated the soft smile on her face. "I just wanted to have all of you to myself."
Stumbling back as the misty clones crawled out of her shadow and began rushing the small unit, the Soldier raised his weapon in panic as he finally realized the woman's true intentions. "S-She's an Aggressor! Fire!" Upon fire, the clones took every bullet, protecting their keeper and exploding into a thick black smoke on impact. Swarmed by the black mist despite the wind and rain whipping through the wastes, the Soldiers were caught in her web and Ophelia could smell their fear as they cried out in confusion and terror, "Where'd she go?!"
The shaky voice of another Soldier called out through the smoke as he attempted to back up against the armored vehicle, "Tighten the perimeter--Aaah!" Triggering a hail of gunfire and panic upon the cry, the sound of metal slicing through flesh and bone filled the air as pained screams and dull thuds surrounded the soldier who had thanked her. He was young, maybe even a recent graduate, either way it was certain the young man was not ready for such a threat. Tears were already streaking down his cheeks as he whirled around on his heels pointing his gun at every little noise. Soon there was nothing but the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions, the Soldier was alone, and as the mist faded he caught sight of his fallen team.
Blood stained the dirt around him and the armored vehicle from severed limbs and bodies which laid dead on the ground. Amid the horrific mess the soldier did not see the Aggressor, and as his head whipped about in attempt to find her, a soft voice came from behind him on the armored vehicle. "Behind you." Snapping around at the sound of her voice, she rushed down at the soldier before he could fire, and in a clean swipe Eleuterio severed the soldier's hands at the wrists.
Knee digging into his chest, Ophelia slammed his back into the ground as she pinned him under her weight. His face had turned bright red while an ugly, horrified look sat on his face. His eyes were squinting in fear and pain, face streaked with tears while his lips were pulled at the edges in a wide, open mouthed frown. Snot leaked from his nostrils while he cried and groaned, body obviously in shock, as he began to lose a copious amount of blood. She could feel him shaking beneath her weight, trembling in terror as he awaited his liberating end.
"Please--don't! Please, please, please--"
Her sword was pressed delicately against the skin of his throat, while her dark eyes held malice and enthusiasm as she watched the poor boy struggle and beg. "Hush, don't fret," She cooed, caressing his tear stained cheek gently as a soft smile returned to her face. "Your suffering is for not, young one. I am here to bring you true freedom, and in return you will tell me why you are here and your purpose." Despite her words the boy continued to sob. Incoherent begging spouted from his lips as his skin began to lose it's glow. She didn't have time to waste and with little hesitation or warning, Ophelia shoved Elueterio through the boys left shoulder. His body arched beneath her in a breathless cry, and as a heavy sob rumbled through his chest he finally spat out something coherent, "Please--" He panted.
Irritation growing, Ophelia kneeled in close as her soft smile fell flat and a stern look came over her face. Hand grasping the boy's chin, she forced him to look her in the eye as she spoke softly and slowly, "Then tell me, boy. I promise you, once you give me this information I will bring your suffering to an end." Instead of the reply she was looking for he only continued to sob and in return Ophelia only brought him pain. With her grip on the hilt of the blade, she began to twist and move Eleuterio around in his shoulder. Tearing at his muscles and skin, and causing his body to arch again, another sob wracked through his chest before he finally broke, "C-Calamity's Gate! We're--we're heading to Calamity's Gate to shut it down!" He cried, teeth gritting and chest heaving in mind numbing pain.
Sitting up and head leaning back, a wide grin had stretched across the woman's face as everything suddenly became clear. This meeting had been the will of Etro. From the very beginning he had lead her to the west, and if it had not been for his holy directions she would have never come across the fallen Army Unit. Her eyes closed slowly as contentment and gratitude welled within her chest, "Thank you, my lord."
Head lolling forward at a slow pace, Ophelia grinned down at the dying Soldier as she pulled her blade from his gutted shoulder and stood above him. "Rejoice, young one. The All Father has blessed us today with our meeting, and in return I will grant you the greatest gift of all just as I had promised." Wrapping both hands around the handle of her weapon, Ophelia raised Eleuterio and aimed the tip of her sword at the center of his chest.
Before she drove her blade into his heart, the Soldier's dulling green eyes met hers once more as he spoke his final words, "There.. is nothing you can do to stop us. We will.. win."
Instead of instilling hesitation, or fear, the boys words had caused a soft giggle to rumble from Ophelia's chest as her grin grew ear to ear, "Sweet boy. There's nothing you can do to stop me."
S U B I R A - Growing irritated with Selene's dark comment, Subira follows the group through the volcanic crack where she soon spots the dark figure waiting at the entrance. Experiencing a wave of uncertainty, unfamiliar feelings that she can only assume to be her Spirits, grace her with a second wind. Speaking up for the sake of the group as the mysterious woman questions them, Subira has yet to notice Empathy reaching around the barrier.
O P H E L I A - Contacted by the All Father, Ophelia is warned of an oncoming assault that would bring Etro's justly wrath to an end. Traveling west in his will, Ophelia witnesses a massive move of Army Soldiers and Oakridge Guardians. Singling out a falling army unit and playing wolf in sheep's clothing, Ophelia kills the rest of the infantry while leaving one to interrogate and torture. Learning of the Army and Oakridges motive, Ophelia kills the remaining soldier before leaving the front lines with a plan in mind.
T H E F I E L D S ◇ J u n e 6 ◇ M o v i n g F o r w a r d Her gunblade penetrated deep into the now miry ground. Olivia leaned against the hilt of the weapon to support the weight of rain and mud on her presence. The stench of earthen roots and putrid fluids invaded her senses. The last effort carried the brunette onto her feet, rusty and frigid air escaping her lungs. Olivia beheld the grace of the ice queen and her forceful weapon as a marvelous display of fury and efficiency. The two women combated the threat in tandem, similar to how they had sparred against each other at the academy and completed various simulations as a duo. Monika’s fervent attempts against the tiny, almost comical mushrooms that bounced around their larger host were suddenly brightened by a massive beam of energy coming from a nearby vehicle. The plasma melted away the Mordrem’s protective bark, but much of the heat of the beam reflected back to its source and knocked about whoever launched it in the first place. However, it was not for nothing. Monika was able to amply cut through the monstrosity and finally bring it down. The tiny spores rapidly withered along with their host.
The silence of the rain fell upon them. There were no more vehicles passing the Guardians and the screech of the Mordrem creature vanished with its death. Olivia’s clothes were completely soaked at this point, and her hair was tangled mess clad with sprouting bits of mud. She made her way across the torn battlefield to check on everyone. Most of the team appeared to be alright, minor scratches and bruises that were already vanishing due to the spirits mending their sanctuary. Olivia nodded at Rogart to let him know that she was fine. She could tell that the man was of the overly protective kind, which was not a bad thing in itself. However, Olivia had not expected his kindness to Eric to extent to her as well. Nicholas and Graham were the skillful, capable men that she needed not worry about. Her hand gently graced Niko’s shoulder as she passed him by—being of certain aesthetic appeal, she could not help herself but to be soft—and she patted Graham on the back as appreciation for his impressive acrobatics. Monika had managed to propel herself all the way to the vehicle wherefrom the plasma beam had been launched. That girl did not seem to appreciate the amount of punch her abilities packed.
“Alright there, darling? You should get a feel for your own recoil,” Olivia smirked at Monika.
Coming around the vehicle, Olivia was surprised but delighted to see one of the Conrad brothers laying in the dirt after being knocked back by the reflection of his own attack. The brunette landed him an arm and pulled the hunky man up on his feet. “Well, well, if it isn’t one of the better halves,” Olivia smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Your brother is going to kick your ass when he finds out about this, you know,” she continued with a light tone on her voice. “And believe me, I will tell him just to see what he does with you,” Olivia teased the boy and slapped the boy’s arm. “Anyway, I’m just kidding—you know that right?—Stick around with us and we’ll get through this.”
Olivia tapped on the window connected to the driver’s seat of the transport. The glass disappeared into the mechanisms of the door and the sullen driver spoke: “We have to get moving. We’ve already broken protocol by stopping." Olivia called for the other to gather and load up. When they were all set, the driver made sure that the remaining distance was closed with great speed and accuracy. The team reached the Mobile Operations Vehicle within half an hour, where the transport was picked up and docked. The large hangar quite a chilly atmosphere, which did not sit well with the Guardian’s soaked clothes. They were greeted by an officer who offered them to shower and change into dry garments.
“Welcome to Nautilus. Your team has been requested to attend a meeting with High Command within the hour. There are showers and dry clothing at your disposal at the lower decks, should you desire it.” The officer was brief with his instructions, knowing that the Guardians had been on a Mobil Operations Vehicle many times before. He promptly left them to their own decisions.
“Okay. I need a shower and those dry clothes, at least. Take care of yourselves and then meet in the command tower within an hour,” Olivia said.
K I N A B A L U S U M M I T ◇ J u n e 6 ◇ C h a o s & T u r m o i l ]“Whatever you say, pretty boy.” It was the only thing Selene could crack out of her mouth at Thael’s commands. She did not despise him in any way, but the heroic leadership trope was not a particular appeal to her. Once the dark figure had revealed itself as a threatening consciousness, standing behind Thael’s protective and bulky properties was not so bad anymore. Xander appeared to have the same idea, as his warm and furry body pressed against Selene’s side. The wolf nearly growled at the dark figure at this point.
“Easy there, boy. . . Easy.” Selene’s hand smoothly ran through the creature’s hair. “There is naught to fear, if there is naught to lose. . .” The girl mused and mumbled. That sweet yearning and scent of crimson matters invaded her senses. Her spirits began to stir within her body and manifest themselves, hungering for nourishment of prey. Selene could feel her canine teeth growing every so pointer within her mouth, and the smokey shadows of some gloomful spirit began to mystify her presence.
Without hesitation, Selene swung her vile Fleshreaver into position, trailing her body. The weight of air from that motion moved Xander’s fur akin to a breeze across grassy fields. Her feet silently braced themselves for the coming effort. Petty words would never solve this encounter. She longed for death, a worthy entity to send her to the afterlife. Selene sprung from the dusty ground, cracking it with her strength, and propelled herself forward in a fierce leap. The smokey shadows swirled around her in a dance of void and gloom. The distance between her and the dark figure closed rapidly. A the half way mark, Selene raised her offensive Fleshreaver and forced all her strength into a swing that would make air void and disintegrate rock upon impact.
Subira and Thael were the better minds compared to Selene. Diplomacy was a noble aspect, but entities of the dark were inherently devoid of such finesse.
Ezra went to more bars. In total, he went to eleven. In each, the result was the same. He asked where the strongest was, that led to him getting involved in a fight, and then he was forced to leave the room. Yet on the twelfth, something changed. He asked an unsavory-looking thief where the strongest in Doral was.
“The strongest, eh?” said the thief. “Sounds like you’re looking for Rowena the Sidian. Lucky for you, she’s right there, in the back of the bar. Although I have to warn you, if you’re an outsider, whose never been with the Dark Lands of the Mordrem, her mannerism will no doubt strike you as odd.”
And Ezra was indeed in the back of the bar sat a woman. Hers was a slim figure of a pale white complexion that glistened, yet her frame was powerful and her shoulders broad, and from every muscle of her emanated an incredible strength not known easily to neither man nor woman. There was a fierce vitality that characterized his every feature and motion, yet his expression was neither savage nor somber, yet his smoldering eyes hinted at a great wrath easily awoken. On her table laid a sword, simple in look and craft, yet which held the veteran cuts of a thousand battles. Currently, she was feasting on a meal, having a tankard filled with beer alongside a flab of thick and meat, which she held by her fingers and ripped shreds of it off with her teeth.
“Oh? And who is this my eyes happened upon?” she said.
“Me?” Ezra said.
“Indeed. You would not play of the role of the ignorant, for was it not you that walked across the creaking boards and approach me? Or do you claim your fame to be as one whose is infinite, and by your appearance alone I shall happen to know you?” she said.
“No…so, are you the strongest? Of those of in Doral?” Ezra said.
“I have been in many duels to the death, and traversed many more than a thousands battlefields. I could tell you of the many Mordrem I have seen and slain, of the eldritch monstrosities I have witnessed, of the Eidolon whom I fought and of the ones whom I aided. I am a warrior, raised in the harshities of the Darklands, who has weathered the stormy onslaught of endless carnage. There are no warriors such as I within Doral,” she said.
“Just one thing then,” Ezra said. “My name is Ezra Malchett.”
“Impossible!”
“It’s true.”
“Brother? Even when I was child, I was never the chance to see you. Yet now…So, brother, what brought you to me?”
“A note. Don’t ask whose it from; I have no idea. It told me I could find you here.”
“And what would you ask of me?”
“Come with me.”
“With you? Well, for a brother I would shed my own blood, or even lay down my own life. And I’ve been resting here for far too long as it is. So, where is it that you are to take me?”
“Back to the Academy, at Oakridge.”
“Ah, to the abysmal land of rules and law. And yet what do I have to do with the Academy, brother?”
“Nothing, as far as I’m aware. But I need you by my side.”
“And why would that be?”
“I’ll try to explain, although I’ll admit I don’t understand it myself. In the meantime, though, I have to get back. There are probably a few other things I need to do.”
“Then I might as well come with you. Better to do that than to remain sitting here.”
THE NEXUS REACTOR Jaina Madison The Nexus Reactor
Jaina took a look at the light that emitted from Eric’s body, orbs orbiting arounding him glaring light. She was a bit at wonder at it, not because of surprise at the power of it, as she had seen things like it many times, but because it was, to her, something for her to have wonder at. And it was definitely something that’d help them navigate here in the deep darkness. Ollie seemed to agree, and Eric with his lights went up in front.
“Well, you heard the man,” Jaina said with a smile as she glanced at Serenity.
So she held up her sniper rifle, her trigger a safe distance from it. The place was still very dark. Every corner, every crevice seemed to be emanating with darkness, and it was enough to make Jaina more than a little uneasy. Yet she was not afraid, and stayed upon the beaten. She felt as though, however, that something else was here, watching them. It was just a feeling.
Ezra finally finds the person he’s looking for, his sister Rowena. Then together they begin to go out and look for the people the Academy is seeking. Jaina, meanwhile, readies herself amidst the darkness of the Nexus Reactor.
T H E F I E L D S // Graham Tosches // Fallen Earth
For a brief moment he was atop the world clinging to the great beast upon his perch. Than world vanished with a flash of red as something it slammed into the creature’s head a few inches away from his location. The creature let loose a great roar of protest as the Guardians took the final opportunity for once last relentless assault. But the great behemoth could not maintain its vitality from the many blows thrown against it and thus it began to fall. It’s left leg came out from underneath it smashing to the ground sending chunks of earth into the air as its heavy knee slammed into the ground like an anchor. Graham clutched to his daggers still embedded into the creature with a fine tuned resolve as the movement threw him sideways. Here this close to the fallen creature’s head he could hear the breathing slow and deliberate, fading softly. Then as Oliva drove her blade in for the last time everything stopped and the great beast pitched backwards. Graham pulled the daggers from its hide and dropped to the ground, hitting into the wet mud with a thump. Ignoring the pain he rolled quickly to his left coating himself with a mixture of mud and leaking fluids from the great beast but in doing so he put far away enough as to prevent the giant beast from falling atop of him. Moments later the great creature hit into the ground, the earth jutting up around it from the impact. And then nothing was hard but the soft pattering of rain.
The adrenaline slowly began to filter out of his system as he took one deep breath after another. The battlefield had turned silent with most of the army having completed there push with only the soft rumble of aircraft screeching by on lookout for any that the main forces may had missed.They had made it at least for the moment that was. He turned towards the group and walked back over to them feet heavy in the mud as he walked away from the fallen creature. It had went surprisingly well all things considered. This little team they had seemed to know what they were doing. He give a thumbs up towards where Rogart and Nicholas were standing shaking his head in something akin to amusement as he made a mental note to never get the giant angry enough to swing his hammer at him and Nicholas well he could feel his spirits practically jumping for joy during combat even from his location. They were certainly interesting, Graham could give them that. He was broken from his thoughts when Olivia came over and patted him on his back, making the rounds to make sure that everybody wasn’t dead. He nodded his head in thanks. While the two of them might of disagreed upon certain authorial perspectives, she carried herself well during the fight and showed that all the talk of her being a natural at this wasn’t all just talk.
He passed Monika next located near the transport that seemed to be serving as their valiant knight in shining armor charging in to save the day. As he did he remembered their conversation from before which at this point seemed to be years ago, a different life and a different time. "We shall see then if there is any truth and weight to your speech then, Graham." He wondered if he had proven himself in whatever odd twisted hierarchy that the girl seemed to follow in her head. Though as he passed her he couldn't help it as he turned his head back giving her probably the cockiest grin she had seen in her entire life, the clear white of his crooked teeth in harsh contrast to his mordrem blood and mud covered face.
"I told you they kept me around for a reason Princess." Graham explained with a wink as he vanished around the corner not sticking around for the inevitable soul crushing remark. There Olivia was helping up the man that had inevitably lead the charge in an attempt to save him looking a little worse for wear. He looked familiar to him for some reason like a face that Graham knew but couldn’t quite but the name too it. None the less Olivia seemed to be talking to the man like she knew and so Graham figured he probably just another one of the gym rats. Nevertheless as he passed the other Guardian he nodded his head in appreciation as he passed giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Thanks for stopping and saving our sorry asses. Don’t think any of us really wanted to walk. I'm Graham the dashingly handsome one of the group." He told the man as he grabbed the handgrip by the door of the transport and pulled himself up and into the vehicle. He sat down heavily in his seat and cocked his head back against the wall of the transport falling asleep quickly as the transport began to move again a few minutes later not deeply caring about the blood and mud that covered his body as his own spirits moved about him in a soft red glow slowly healing any immediate damage.
Eventually he was nudged awake when they arrived at the MOV around thirty minutes later. The inside of the vehicle in direct contrast to the blasted hellscape that it sat in the middle of. Everything was sleek and clean with everything moving with a machine like rhythm. He felt the hair rise on his arms from the cool climate controlled air that pumped through the vehicle. Only half listening as the officer gave them the rundown, he instead look up at the moment around him as soldiers and engineers of all types moved about in a controlled sort of chaos. What did catch his attention was the fact that they were going to attend a meeting with High Command. It seemed that there little adventure was going to get even more interesting than they thought.
"As much as I love prancing about covered in... well whatever I’m covered in at the moment. I’m also going to hit the shower." Graham told the rest of the group with a nod before breaking away.
M O U T A I N P A T H // Roxelana ‘Roxie’ Cacciatore // The Shadows of Resolve
Roxelana could only shake her head at the morbidity of Selene's comment. Needlessly dark comments filled with an air of morbidity did nothing but wasted the very breath required to speak them. She reminded the girl of the priests back home always talking of the coming destruction and death of the world. She had always disliked the priests for that reason alone, speaking of coming death and destruction while doing nothing but letting the death sweep in. Though judging from the others reactions they felt the same as Roxelana did as they approached the entrance to the mine, though she could feel the spirits about them moving in frantic rapid motions rising and falling live waves crashing against the sea. She nodded as Thael volunteered to take the lead position and she silently slowed down her pace to let the giant take the lead falling back with the others.
It was moments later that they came to the entrance to the mine and met the mysterious woman. Even with the distance between them Roxie could feel the heavy presence of the mysterious woman’s spirits. They seemed to tower above them all threatening to crash down upon them at any minute. They were different though than any other spirits that Roxie had felt before, while they were charged with a sense of stalwart determination part of them seemed old and worn in a strange way. Nevertheless the woman seemed completely at ease despite being outnumbered. Her words came easily and with a sort of calmness about them moving like the whispers on the wind. Roxie’s eyes watched as the shadows in the mouth of the cave seemed to move with the woman lurching forward almost ceaselessly. It seemed that she had no plans on letting the group advance forward . As she let her voice carry away a moment of silence followed as the group of guardians tensed unsure of movement. Roxelana fell naturally to the hilt of her blade watching and waiting.
It was Subria that spoke first seemingly snapping everyone out of it with the strong sense of determination in her voice. The woman though did not seemed as impressed as her eyes of deep endless blue peered upon each of them as distant as a foreign sea. Roxie did not freeze when the eyes fell upon her but only give the woman a small smile. She took a step forward putting her towards the front of the group as she did she turned to Thael and said very calmly given the current situation. "Dropping the shield may be for the best blondie. She seems intent on testing our resolve and hiding behind a shield may not be displaying the best of our character at the moment.”
With that she turned her gaze back towards the mysterious woman. Silently she reached deep inside of herself and pulled at the darkness swirling about herself and there was a slight shift in the air as in response to the woman’s own shadows, Roxelana’s own shadow seemed to rise behind her like a silent watchman towering nearly a head taller than Thael. It’s mass was formless moving and shifting as the spirits that vitalized it begged to be released at the moment, parts of it fell off like dark ooze dripping to the ground and vanishing.
And it was at that exact moment that Selene decided to charge the woman without a care in the world. Roxie fought the urge to yell something rather rude at the girl as her shoulders sagged as the girl rushed towards the mysterious woman but watched intently to see the woman's reaction, hand resting on her blade. If the girl died in this very moment... well there was nothing really lost now was there? Roxelana cared not for her combat skills only for the lack of a brain that she seemed to be displaying and a lack of brain was a dangerous thing indeed for a Guardian.
"Well there goes the diplomatic option..."
With the beast dead, Graham follows suit with the others catching his breath and thinking about his new found companions. Eventually after falling asleep in the transport that their new friend stopped for them, he is awoken by one of his companions and finds himself at the MOV. His is curious at what High Command could have to say to little old them but is too tired to really give it any thought. After a few words he departs to use the shower to wash all the blood and mud off of him.
Meanwhile up in the mountains Roxelana is less than impressed with Selene, I'm a morbid depressing person deal. Eventually they find their way to the mouth of the cave where they meet the mysterious woman. Powered on by Subria's own defiance she readies herself but before anything can be done Selene charges forward. Somehow making Roxelana even more unimpressed for the girl. And so Roxelana watches intently to see the mysterious woman's response to the attack.
T H E F I E L D S -{}- Nicholas Vanceon -{}- H a m m e r O f T h e A r m y As excited blood coursed through his veins, Niko took a moment to close his eyes and inhale. He could feel the slow heaving of his chest as he steadied his breaths and the grin that struggled to stretch into a full blown smile. Even if the beastly Mordrem had the capability of killing him in a single blow, the young Guardian relished in the successful attack he had landed thanks to the opening provided by Monika. The simulations back at Oakridge did true combat no justice. The feeling of accomplishment overwhelmed the boy and as he opened his eyes to advancing fungi spores, he let instinct gain complete control of his body and he eagerly met the venomous enemies. Explosive echoes rang out from the newly separated blunderbuss and the now straightened blade of Niko's shortsword sliced at mushroomed spores through pirouettes and half-steps. It was easy to avoid the poisonous clouds the fungi gave off if they could be shot from some distance and evaded. This scenario was part of the reason Niko chose to add range to his trick weapon design back when he first began to develop ideas; the Cathedral had always been a stickler about details and preparedness. They were also the ones who instilled the sense of awe the boy felt during combat and, at this moment, he was certainly in awe.
The other Guardians had taken over the fight pretty quickly. It was not something to be upset by as teamwork was more important than anything on the battlefield, but the spectacle was completely unexpected. Monika's spirits seemed to glow the brightest as she let off what looked to be powerful offense one after the other with recoil being her only punishment. This was preceded by a red beam that cut through the air and pierced the head of the Mordrem with pinpoint accuracy - apparently, another Guardian had arrived late, but announced his presence in grand fashion. Graham was equally as impressive with his own acrobatics and athleticism as he literally pounced on the beast and seemed to hold it in place while damaging it with his own weapons. Every Guardian on the battlefield fought as if they had easily dispatched this kind of beast before and even though that was true to a degree, it left Niko more impressed than he thought he would be - and then it was over. The Gastridamon fell and the rain fell with it.
Niko stood as if he were in disbelief. His face was a blank slate of uncertain emotion, but his thoughts were calming down and becoming focused once more. The battle had not been as hard as it could have been, but it was almost as if... He was disappointed. It was true that grave injury had been avoided thanks to the fact that a number of Guardians were present to combat the threat, but it was also mildly disappointing that he had not been able to push himself harder. In a place like the Dark Zone, there would be more than enough challenge to satiate even the hungriest appetite for battle, but Niko could not help but feel as though he was not able to utilize enough of his training - or better said, not able to evolve passed the simulations he was so used to training against. Olivia's hand on his shoulder - for however brief that actually was - brought the boy back from his mind to the reality of the small peace and new vehicle the team had been given.
The drive was much quicker this time and once arrived at the base called Nautilus, Niko exhaled sharply. The ride had given him time to truly come down from his high and he realized he was in desperate need of a hot shower. As soon as the officer briefed the group, Niko slung his weapon back over his back, sheathed his blade, and headed for the nearest shower. He would gladly take the offer of dry clothes and a deep cleansing.
H A M M E R O F T H E A R M Y -[]- Rogart Hendrickson -[]- J U N E 6
"Rogart! Get down!"
Wordlessly, the big man complied, and he felt Oliva's graceful jump off of his back. Rogart straightened and watched as she soared through the air like a falcon, sliced down a tentacle and vanished behind it. The great beast roared and curled up, and in seconds it grew a hardened shell. Tentacles flailed about around it, and then it started to grow fungus...things that skittered and wove towards them.
With hammer in hand, Rogart charged forward and swung at the first of the fungus things. Just as Monika's warning reached his ears, it splattered against the hammer head and a cloud of spores engulfed him. He coughed and staggered away, as a lance of fire shot from behind them and gouged a hole through its head. It roared, spasmed, then fell to the ground, silent and very much dead. The Guardian in question showed himself a moment later, being helped up by Olivia. She walked around, making sure they were all alright. He smiled in return to her pat on his back. She was just like Eric, returning the concern for her teammates.
The rest of the incident passed by in a blur. They were loaded up onto another transport and summarily sent away to an MOV, where they were given a briefing in an hour.
Rogart gratefully accepted the offer of fresh clothes and a shower, lugging his huge hammer on his back as he headed below decks.
N E X U S R E A C T O R -[]- Eric Wormwood -[]- J U N E 6
Eric responded with a thumbs up over his back as he walked. One hand rested on the hilt of his rapier as the orbs of light, fire and electricity bounced and floated around him. They were playing with each other, of course, as one of the orbs seemingly chased after the other two in their orbit around his torso.
His dress shoes clacked and clanged on the metal catwalk the instant he set foot on it, prompting him to stop and walk quietly. He knew how to make almost zero noise in his usually noisy shoes, a perk he'd picked up on late nights in Oakridge, studying into the wee hours of the morning long after everyone else had went to bed.
As they walked, he noted the strange...feeling he had. Two of the others, Ollie and Serenity, had noticed the same thing. That feeling of not being alone in the dark, dank depths.
But, they had a mission. With Ruinga providing light, Eric strode forward, eyes constantly darting around their surroundings. If anything moved again, he'd notice. And if he didn't, the others sure would.
Rogart smiles to Olivia, is transported to the MOV and heads for a shower.
Eric silently notes his teammates' discomfort, notes his own discomfort with the silence as well, but moves onward into the darkness of the Reactor.
The elation flooding Kyle promptly fizzled out when he noticed some of his own energy being directed back at him. “Well shit,” he muttered to himself, before being forcibly blown off the roof of the transport to land on his back in the mud.
His ears were ringing, and every last scrap of air had been knocked out of his body, but somehow Kyle felt himself laughing. It seemed so fitting that his very first combat experience end with him flat on his ass in the mud. He ached in various sharp ways, but already his spirits were fluttering about, encouraging his body to mend. His armour, however, was toast, almost literally. It was partially melted in places, the HUD was nonfunctional, and the chestplate was cracked right through.
Getting the helmet off took some time, as it turned out. He finally wrestled it free as Olivia rounded the corner of the transport and offered him a hand. He took it, grinning. “Tell him what, how I saved you? Go right ahead.” He didn’t know any of the other Guardians; they exchanged subdued greetings as they filed into the transport, except for one who might have had long blonde hair under a thick layer of mud and...guck. Kyle instantly liked his lighthearted new companion. “Dashingly handsome? I’ll have to take your word for it” he said with a laugh, referencing Graham’s current appearance.
Kyle spent the trip to the front trying to pry off the remainder of his armor, with little success. It would take some tools he didn’t have access to at the moment. When they arrived at the MOV, Kyle had to make his way to the armory and find someone to get him out of the melted carapace, then stop by the medbay to treat any injuries his spirits hadn’t handled. Only then could he think about something as luxurious as a shower.
[✦] N E X U S R E A C T O R. // June 6. // W i t h i n t h e R u i n s.
So they could sense it too. Good.
The depths of every nook and crevice seemed to swell, expanding beyond the thresholds meant for typical units of overcast gloom. It was enough to require inspection to every crossing and interlacing path of grate and rail, the interior of the Reactor a drone of sound that pitched and made the claps of thunder ominous. The circulations of traveling groans continued to chafe and ground against Ollie's shoulders with every powerful release, making him beyond tense and taut. Within the intensity of his soul he felt the pull of his spirits, each conglomerate of darkness and fire amass in their frenzy, awakened by the sensations of being observed, watched, gleaned from the companionable shadows that only parted by the playful orbs of Eric's own spirits. Ollie swept closer up the line, bringing himself nearly flush against Serenity where he clasped her shoulder and guided her aside, indicating with a quick salute of his fingers to the brief, almost unrecognizable, shift in the shadows near the catwalk they were currently on. He pointed, briefly, indicating the shimmer of movement, the small glide of something that causes the ebon pools of his perspective to nearly eclipse the sclera into a lagoon of obsidian tar. He leaned down close, bending his height to accompany her stature and breathed a silent whisper, his voice low beneath the shuddering impact of another thunderous roar of the storm outside.
"See that? We're not alone."
It was more than mere speculation and wonder, something was indeed there, something was following beneath and above, never crossing onto the same trajectory of there own footfalls, but encroaching close enough to summon their trained and nearly perfected awareness to fruition. He left Serenity, gesturing for her to continue on, to pass the message onto the others ahead of them and swiftly drew his Magus Bow, pulling taut on the string, nocking an arrow with fluidity and panning a swift eye over the catwalk adjacent to them. He waited, breaths swift, almost akin to a hyperventilation to compound the sensitivity of his observation and sight. An archer had impeccable concentration and even the slightest of impairment would ensure failure in their paths, and Ollie thought maybe it was his time spent with Monika that beget this sort of perfectionism. But. He never missed his target.
Another shimmer of psychical action caused sound and breath to hitch somewhere in his throat, almost sputtering from his lips in a triumphant call as he released his arrow. The whistling penetration was the only indication of disturbance, followed by a rapid clang and terrifying screech, a caterwauling breath of fury and surprise that transpired into a defiant hiss that coiled through Ollie's blood and bones. He ascended up the rest of the catwalk, his chest nearly heaving with the ominous ring of the creature's call of agony, his countenance though betrayed all traces of fear, there in the grooves of facial hair and skin was the presence of pure elation and anticipation.
The hunt begins.
"It'll come after us next, whatever it is," he began in a soft murmur of a whisper. "I managed to put an arrow in it, it'll be pissed now. So keep your guards up. We need to find those breakers, now." There was no time for stealth and secrecy, the tremors of the storms sounded from the exterior, the Dark Zone weather unleashing all wrath onto the Reactor as rapid rainfall drummed against the shell of the ruins. Cracks of lightning and thunder sounded, and through small vents and windows of ventilation there were brief alabaster flashes of power.
"Go!"
[✦]K I N A B A L U S U M M I T. // June 6. // T h e B e a s t W i t h i n.
Later, in solitude and remorse, Magdalena would realize - with forlorn detachment and regret - that she could not die. No matter how deeply she desired it.
She anticipated and expected endeavors of diplomacy gilded with mute and silence threat and pose, that the Guardians would defend their purpose and mission with the loyalty Oak Ridge sired in their souls. Her countenance nearly crippled and fell, recognizing that stalwart conviction, the unwavering method of succession and perfection to their deeds. However, she was disappointed in the initial response, what was rejoined to her inquiry was not what she needed to know. The veteran soldier knew they were after the depths of the mines and the reasons behind the charred paths and rumours circulating, what she needed was their intentions with the secrets laden within those depths beyond her stance. She, herself, intended no harm, but only to provide and sanction judgement, to protect that which had hidden its self from mortal touch and manipulation. Magdalena knew that something else lurked within their selves, their hearts, for Empathy was crawling ever closer, inch by inch that shadow pressed and teased the barrier of light, intent to focus all emotional gluttony onto their souls to understand the truths of their wants.
Almost. . .
But, then she sensed Death. The eternal reaper reared forth, it summoned an awakening, it summoned despair and desire for slumber, rest, and the numbness of the void. Nihilism. The shadows championed by another swirled in a wrath of gloom and pitch, a void of sinister want and need, the macabre instrument promising to sunder, reap and dispose. Magdalena did not move, her visual did not wane, those eyes of swirling Hellfire widened, the rings of serpentine, molten wrath bloomed aglow until the last possible second where thunder did not ring, where the wind stilled and the shadows swarmed in silence and Empathy suddenly latched onto the remaining Guardians. Tendrils of ebon fissures aligned there, splintering briefly before cinching tight and only then did Magdalena finally perform action.
Or, rather, her shadows did.
The mass of obsidian wraiths that had been spreading aloft and swarming the expanse of the clearing appeared to increase, rising high into the wrath of the wind where a face began to form. If one of mortal comprehension could prescribe such a visage in the common tongue, there was another depth of labels to be sired here, for a hellacious maw where ruby pulsations dominated, forming the infernal jaws of a monstrous apparition. Eyes of boring anger and despair bore down on the woman who deemed to attack, the billowing edges and feathers of black pouring behind to configure the rest of the ominous projection of spiritual wrath. Magdalena's lips parted, trickles and pools of magma sliding forth from her yawned orifice, a terrible shudder waking through her being as the terrible form above her, connected to her, roared at the sythe-wielder. With an extended shadow rocketing from the depths of the pitch around her, much like a gargantuan claw that struck the earth and suddenly swept Magdalena back, barely avoiding the impending strike of the weapon that impaled the soil.
"Do you wish to die so desperately. Do you wish for the pitch of an afterlife, of a deriving path of Fate that I would grant you?" Her voice trembled, warped, a distorted intonation that reached to her and beyond to the Guardians being touched by Empathy. Magdalena's figure was immediately transitioned, igneous rocks and solids forms broken over her eyes, fanned out into tines and horns, wings of Hell and fissures of solidified magma and shadows decorating limbs and body, penetrating the ancient armour she donned.
"Is this your heart, Selene? Or shall we look deeper?"
Figures and wisps of shadows plummeted from the yawning maw of the horrid apparition, the inky tendrils of her utter despair and anguish threatening to envelop Selene.
REACTOR — The ominous feeling of being watched increases. Now they are seeing movements, the depths of shadow conforming. Ollie whispers and warns Serenity, asks her to inform the rest whilst he nocks and arrow and fires in the gloom, making his mark against whatever creature is following, With a terribly screech echoing through the chambers of the Reactor, he whispers to them quickly of what transpired before commanding that they go, and fast.
KINABALU — In response to the attack, Magdalena's spirits form the terrifying face of a monstrous creature that roars at her attacker before being swept back from the group. Empathy has latched onto the Guardians, wishing to know their hearts whilst Magdalena aims to use Verzweiflung on Selene.
Amidst the deep darkness much was obscured, and none of them knew what exactly might lay deep in the hidden crevasses, waiting quietly to stalk out its prey. Ollie’s arrow had reached something, and all could hear its groan. They all knew that soon something was coming, and now what remained was merely the wait as they continued to wade through the darkness. Jaina continued her walk, firmly holding her rifle in her hand, her eyes gazing all around her. It was useless, as in the piercing darkness her eyes could find nothing of significance. Amid the darkness an entire legion could dwell, and she would be none the wiser.
As they continued to walk the sound of loud footsteps began to clank against the black metal railing upon which they walked over. It was none among their own group who had done it. It was quick, but it was not a frantic pace. Its footsteps were lithe and quick, but organized, and it was apparent that it was the footsteps of a human. Jaina heard it, and she quickly looked behind her to see what it was. However, already she was too late. A dark figure had gone running passed Serenity, and as Jaina went to turn her head felt the edge of blade cut her cheek.
“Hello, Jaina,” said the dark figure, who spoke with an ever familiar voice.
“Charlotte?” said Jaina.
Then Charlotte dropped a grenade that unleashed a light so bright that it stunned them all and a piercing sound reaching their ears. Then Charlotte, her eyes and ears safely covered, made a quick escape.
“I hope you and your friends weren’t counting on the breaker,” Charlotte said.
And while they recovered, the monsters that surrounded them began to retreat from their dark crevasses and went out into the open. The Mordrem were, like them, blinded by the stun grenade, but eventually their ears began to end their ringing and their eyes began to be cleared from the blinding light.
“Damn,” Jaina said. “What’s Pops up to now?”
Jaina readied herself, blinking her eyes rapidly. The light had faded and darkness had again returned. However, Jaina’s eyes could now see that the Mordrem were arriving, and in decent numbers as well. She aimed and prepared to fire. Noe was the time for battle, and to prove that she was indeed worthy to fight alongside the Guardians.
WITHIN AND TRANSPORTER Ezra Malchut and Rowena Malchut The Nexus Reactor
Ezra and Rowena sat down in a transportation vehicle on opposite sides. They had left Doral after the two of them had ended their need for recruitment. The teleporter had brought them all the way from Doral to the Nexus Reactor, and had only taken them a moment to teleport them. Now they were on a transportation truck, and moving towards the Reactor. Ezra, with Rowena’s help, had managed to recruit the three who that man had wanted. Now Ezra was on his way to meet Jaina once again, and do whatever it took in order to do so. He had made a mistake treating her as he had, and now he would rectify that mistake however he thought he could. Rowena, unlike the others, had not yet gone back to the Academy. Ezra wanted to see her settled in there, as he saw that it was unlikely that it would go very well without his guidance.
“So what next, Ezra?” Rowena said.
“I’m going to meet with Jaina,” Ezra said.
“Jaina?”
“Yes. The two of us were raised together under my fath–…under Elijah.”
“Ah, so it was the brother who took you in.”
“Yes, I was raised by Elijah, my uncle. As a child, he kidnapped me, wiped my memories, and pretended he was my father while putting me through training crueler than anything I’ve ever lived through. I want my memories back, the memories that he stole from me. I want to remember my mother, and my father.”
“Hah! If I can guarantee you anything, it is that your father is no chevalier.”
“That can’t be! I’ve heard about my father. His name is Aeon, and he was a great hero.”
“And Elijah was nearly as great a one as he. Father, Aunt, and Uncle were all heroes. It runs through our blood; they were the last generation, and we are the new. Father was a hero, no doubt, but that does not make him a good man. He left me and mother to fend for ourselves while he ran to become a hero. Mother died by the hand of a Mordrem, and I was left to fend for my livelihood in the merciless steppes of the Dark Zone; he never came back for me. And if that was all that he had done, I’d not have minded too much. Don’t count on the bastard much; he’ll use you just as much Uncle will.”
“What could he have done-?”
It was then that an explosion had interrupted their conversation. A great blast of something yet undetected by those within had hit against the transporter. With its power it had knocked down the truck, and the truck was stopped in its tracks and forced downward on its side. Both Rowena and Elijah were knocked wildly against the truck’s steel walls. Elijah was knocked unconscious, but Rowena remained conscious. She used her strength to pick up Elijah, and carried him over the shoulder. She kicked open the steel trunk of the transporter and checked to see how the driver was faring. He was dead. Then she looked around to see what exactly was going on.
The first thought on her mind was to spot exactly who it was who had attacked them. She peered around, eager to take vengeance upon them as swiftly as possible. It did not take long for the perpetrator to make her appearance. A young woman clad in leather armor, her head covered by a black leather helmet, dash in front of Rowena, a longsword in her hands.
“Well, I didn’t expect anyone could survive that, but it turns out both of you did,” the woman said. “I suppose now’s the time for me to finish the both of you off.”
Then the woman dashed forward, a quickly brought her longsword up to Rowena. Yet Rowena was even quicker, with all the speed and ferocity of a panther, and brought her sword up in a parry. Then in a counterattack replied with all the ferocity of a bear, forcing the woman back.
“You’ll not be killing anyone today, at least not any more. Unfortunate for you, but fortunate for me,” said Rowena.
“Charlotte? Charlotte, is that you?” Ezra said.
“Indeed it is,” Charlotte said. “I have to apologize, Ezra. But when you betrayed Elijah, you left us behind. I have to do this, even though we used to be friends.”
“Charlotte, wait!” Ezra said.
She did not wait, however. Charlotte once again charged forward with an intense ferocity. Time and time again Rowena blocked Charlotte’s strikes with her own. Rowena footing was forced backward, but in the end Rowena overpowered her opponent. First she struck Charlotte’s blade into a position too far from her chest, and then aimed for her chest.
“Rowena, wait!”
Ezra wiggled around, and Rowena’s momentum was broken. Rowena’s blade struck against Charlotte, but it was not fatal as it would have been. Charlotte wadded backwards, and then unleashed a smoke grenade. Under the cover of smoke, Charlotte escaped from then.
“Well, we’ll have to wait for another time to deal with her,” Rowena said. “Come on, Ezra. Our destination can’t be too far.”
“You’re not upset?”
“That you interrupted? I’ll deal with her later, should she dare to turn up again. Yet you knew the woman.”
“Yes. She grew up with me and Jaina. Together the three of us were inseperable.”
“And now Elijah seeks to tear you apart. Come on. You’ve got a friend waiting, don’t you? We might as well hurry, unless you’re too beaten to fight?”
“No, never.”
Amidst the darkness, a woman named Charlotte throws a stun grenade, purposefully having the group gain the attention of the Mordrem, and Jaina begins to fire as they approach. A little bit later, Rowena and Ezra discuss their family, but their conversation is interrupted by an explosion Charlotte causes. Charlotte approaches Rowena and attacks, and Rowena defeats her, but Ezra pleads for Rowena not to kill her, and Charlotte is able to get away. Then, now on foot, Ezra and Rowena make their way to the Nexus Reactor.
K I N A B A L U S U M M I T ◆ Subira Arendse ◆ A Dark Figure As soon as Empathy latched onto her leg and waist, Subira felt her inner emotions being forcefully dragged out. Terror, frustration, along with the buried feelings of powerlessness, and greed. She felt violated, and by a woman who knew nothing about her. This entire situation could have been avoided had Selene not rushed in and attacked, but then again, Subira knew of the other girls fatal desire. Dark eyes watched the bubbling shadow morph into a face, and as she felt real fear well up in her chest, a burning, hot rage bubbled in the pit of her stomach and overtook her emotions. Like a hive controlling its host, the celestial bodies within the bruiser redirected her focus and emotions, syncing their own needs and feelings with her own frustration until their voices came to her in the form of intuition.
Save Selene.
Dark eyes flickered from the roaring black void to Selene's form, waiting and ready to be swallowed up and granted her wish. While it would have been nice not to hear the other girls apathetic and dark comments for the rest of the operation, Subira knew they needed her strength. Like fine hairs, electricity began to ripple across her skin and clothes as Gijimani granted her it's speed, and resilience. Jaw no longer hanging in awe, and anger almost radiating off of her, Subira's mouth was twisted in an irritated scowl as she glared at Selene from behind her sunglasses.
"You idiot."
Without fear or hesitation, she grabbed the tar like tendrils of Empathy that were wrapped around her waist. Twisting them around her hand, the bruiser tugged on the woman's shadow, ripping it like fine material until it snapped from its source. Once her waist was free, the Guardian tore her ankle from Empathy's grip and rushed for Selene.
Like lightning, Subira left a trail of electricity in her wake as thunder clapped above. Racing against the sweeping black void for her teammate, she moved at blistering speeds, body visibly blurring as she darted from behind Thael's shield and across the clearing. Seconds felt like minutes, and once she was no more than a few feet away from Selene, Subira reached out and pounced. Losing her sunglasses upon jumping, she tackled the other girl to the side and effectively pulled her out of the way of the attack, tumbling hard across the clearing thanks to her own momentum.
Picking up a cloud of dirt as they came to a halt, Subira quickly rolled to her knees and crawled to her teammate. Adrenaline pushing her to act so compulsively, Subira grabbed Selene's shirt collar with a vice like grip before lifting her off the ground and bringing her a mere inches away from her face. Subira bore daggers at the scythe wielder despite knowing that this reaction would probably do nothing for her cynical teammate. However, frustration and adrenaline was fueling her right now, and frankly -- she still didn't care for Selene's opinion!
All of her self control and patience was being tested right now, and instead of giving Selene a well deserved punch in the face, Subira released her frustration through a sincere threat, "Do that shit again and I'll be the one to end you!"
Shoving Selene back down into the dirt, tense breaths came from the bruiser as she pushed herself up from the ground with a grunt, scowl still visible on her face as she attempted to sort through her own thoughts and calm down. "Sorry -- but, hear me out. We need to move as a team right now, and rushing in like that will not only get you killed, but all of us as well." Turning her back to Selene and focusing on the stranger still blocking them from the mine entrance, Subira pushed aside her own morals and made her teammate a promise, "Once this mission is over and we reach the front lines, I promise to never stop you like that again. Go crazy for all I care -- but right now, we need you."
N E X U S R E A C T O R. // June 6. // W i t h i n t h e R u i n s.
Fuck, shit, dammit!
Years and routines, constant practice and perfection saw to the lack of awe and shock to illustrate across ebony pools and features of gentry, but within was a cesspool of ill luck, circumstance, and a terrible desire to grind his teeth into a blood addled mess of bone and skin; reaping down into his gums to still the bubbling frustration and fury of some bitch blind siding them like battle newborns. How she managed to slip within the Nexus Reactor and come upon with stealth and agility was a matter to be addressed later, Ollie's eyes flickered and swarmed, the pitch of his spirits staining his gaze to an adulterated swarm of ink that glared daggers of suspicion at the woman, simply Army sniper that she was, who had vocally addressed their assaulter and had the gall to banter, no matter how fleeting it was.
"Had a nice, fucking chat?" He hissed, Ollie's shell splintering just enough to permit his fury, the groan of his spirits combating against the sudden phalanx of Hell erupting from the shadow, heralded by the stun grenade and screech of whatever had been following them previously. Still feeling the ring of the explosion coil around in his head, the previous elation he had felt at the prospect of The Hunt had bled out into this disruption and he felt the unraveling woe at potentially failing his own objective. Ollie refused, with stalwart conviction and determination ironing and back-boning his denial, he wouldn't allow this temporary lapse to completely squander his opportunities and obligations. With a bestial snarl, he grasped Jaina, hoisted her close with black peering in close to her face as he spat out with venom akin to a serpentine predator. "If we fail this, I'll make your life Hell, Soldier. You will submit to questioning later."
He released the sniper with a sneer, lip curling, the factual evidence of Ollie's true nature gleaming from the perpetual gloom that was his soul. Laced with taint, ebony disease and malice, all of these warping his countenance into the monster that was lain dormant in his being. It was a glimpse to what he smoothed and laid to rest daily, but in the dark, in the thick of threat and Mordrem terror, it was heralded as a King. His spirits sired on sounds of vibrating intonations, the trembling timbre pitched so low that it quaked across the cat walks in the extraterrestrial drone that forced them affront in jagged edges, sharp fissures forming over his armour with nebulous scarlet tones outlining each of the formed splinters. Ollie's gestures formed into a fist, immediately firing Guntar bullets at the Mordrem surrounding them, screeches wailing in pursuit of each hit sanctioned from his rigid stance. His opposite hand fell over his forearm, gripping tight as Guntar's harsh succession pinpointed his nerves in flares of roaring strain. He backed up further on the catwalk, firing away, impaling the enemy with precision that would not falter or wane.
"Now, seriously, get the fuck going!" Ollie roared over the drone of his spirits, knowing that in the swell of their Mordrem foes was the true beast slithering in wait, preparing to take them down one by one. Even if they split up, Ollie would still manage to reach the breakers, he would see this through, he would not fail Julian and his objective, no matter how sinister his intentions. He had a mission, he had a plan, he had an obligation. And he would make that bitch pay, pray to whichever sired lord or deity reined, that he would never see her again.
N A U T I L U S. // June 6. // L o w e r D e c k s.
Moments of relaxation beget moments of reflection. And there, in the pellets of water, steam, heat and whorl, flesh flush and raw, clarity was illustrated in muck, grime, filth, and blood. Befuddled in contrast, thick in taint, and unified in purpose and conviction as Monika surrendered herself to the pressure of luxury. Muscles were knotted beneath translucent skin, unable to cajole and relax beneath the shower's courtesy no matter how much she increased the pressure or heat, enough to make her spirits wail at the temperature even if she could not feel it. Monika twisted knobs, fixated the shower head at an angle, and increased the water pressure to as much as her body would will it. Despite the feminine figures dancing in her peripheral, all she could see was that grin laced thick in cocky assurance, a blatant challenge to her words muttered in the deployment garages. All crooked bone displayed proudly through the gunk that surrounded this swollen, mirth riddled simper that dug a path down to the centre of her hubris.
The blood, the slick carmine on his face, the flutter of a lash and his words boring into the wound created by the flicker of teeth. I think I hate him, her mind aggressively snarls. Monika slowly slid her head back at that, the weight of her tresses pulling on her neck, weighing down against the water-slick path of her spine as the heat, high as it could be put to, created thick weaves of steam heavenward. The entire facilities were chrome finish and steel, all uniforms silvers and blacks in the lower decks of the Nautilus. She had been aboard Mobile Operation Vehicles before, typical runs on diagnostics, learning the frame work of each to better protect and guard them against threat. Simulations adhered to this knowledge, she thought, briefly allowing her memory to pool and flex against the previous battle with the Mordrem next. Reality paled in comparison to the false projections of digital frequencies, and the power and force behind her blows was sheer testimony to the recoil possessed from her holiest of graces. Her pools of ice and steel fled down to her cinched fist, slowly plying the fingers apart, witnessing the crescent mouths smiling in her palm from the pressure of her nails. Olivia had smirked and hinted the need for adjustment, coyly and beautiful, but she had not known the true wrath of those vulpine feathered creatures. Monika could see the rising smog from her skin, the coolness of her flesh battling against the onslaught of the shower.
They had an hour of luxury and punctuality was an eternal practice of the perfectionist. Almost aggressively Monika turned the tabs, cutting off the shower with her palm slapping against the fogged glass where a towel was flung over and immediately grasped to snag around her middle. Her knotted muscles would work out with intermediate stretches, her fingers working quickly to knot the towel into security before she swiped the steam from a silver mirror. She was not a vain creature, but Monika's eyes traveled carefully in scrutiny over her bearings, the gatherings of her dark hair over her shoulder, heavy and wet and slick against her flushed skin. Her palms gathered the mass into her gesture, piling the tresses high and securing most of the excess with a band that had, surprisingly, been preserved around her slight wrist during the battle.
It was only then, when the last of those threads were stilled into place that she heard the penetrating raps against the door from the foyer, sharp sounds against metal and steel. Monika's brow furrowed before she approached, mindful of her current grace before she punched in a few keys, the intercom fixated to the lower suites blooming to life in azure and a quick panning scan revealed Nicholas and that caused the droop of her brow to increase, confusion glimmering over her countenance before she pinged in the series of numbers to allow him entry.
"Yes?" She inquired once the door swiftly plied open, the sound soft and quick as she regarded one of her many sparring combatants.
Niko jerked a bit, deciding in a split-second moment if he could get away with gawking just a little or completely averting his attention to the icy face above the partially exposed graces of his some-of-the-time sparring partner; common sensibilities shifted his gaze quickly to the confused expression waiting to meet his own pleasantly surprised countenance. This, especially when concerning Monika, would always be the wisest choice. A small breath sifted through a thin crevasse formed of slightly pursed lips before the courage was finally abundant enough to push forth spoken words. "There's... There's something I want to ask you about," he said with a quiet sort of intensity. His head drooped a bit and he looked elsewhere in a gesture indicative of nervousness.
E a r l i e r
The sting and stab of pressurized water stream fell harshly against the still overly sensitive bare skin and rapidly forming bruises. Niko stood under the heated liquid of the shower head, palms against the slick wall in front of him and upper body bent over just slightly enough to allow the water to run down the backside of his torso. Thin ribbons of blood slid down his calves and spiraled into the drain with the current flow under his feet and the biting pain of small cuts scattered about gnawed at patches of red skin. The adrenaline had been so high during the battle that the young Guardian had not noticed that he had indeed suffered minor damage from rolling around on rocks and even getting grazed by a claw or two. Simulations still held no true preparatory qualities for the real ebb and flow of tactical combat - to be expected, however. Pushing off the wall, Niko stood to his full height and let the full force of the water rain down on him. He was not thinking of the battle and his mistakes at the moment. He had become intrigued by a sight seen just near the end.
It was only a short ten minutes later that a half clothed Niko was drying off. Dark jeans and shoes already covered his lower body, but he was still lazily working on his upper back and hair while staring at nothing in particular. His mind was preoccupied. His time at the Cathedral had taught him many things about the world, but his overseers had also shown him an intense interest in the power of spirits. During down times, he would read whatever he could on matters of the spirits in an effort to learn as much as possible. The battle against the beastly Mordrem had shown him real power in practice and he had to know more - to know more of Monika. Pulling on a plain white t-shirt and black vest, Niko threw down the towel and grabbed his gear before quickly leaving his room. The only way one could learn was to inquire, after all.
Monika's perpetually lax and severe brow rose just a few increments, enough to illustrate a mute perplexity and curious notion before her lips conformed into a slight simper; a twisted shift of lips over teeth that lifted to mimic the graces of a befuddled consensus.
"I see," she gracefully relinquished her station by the door, gesturing within the foyer of impersonal aesthetics befitting to these lower domiciles, and retreated on her barren heel to step into the adjacent lavatory. Her following silence punctuated the air, suspended as a mute gesticulation with only the rustle of her cloth and cotton following the frigid whisper. "Does this concern the meeting, or the mission? Considering you've come to my room." Monika later proposed, a twinge of fluster colouring her usual accent.
As she turned on her heels, Niko caught himself beginning to admire once more - her contour really was a sight to behold, he thought briefly before shaking the ill-advised murmurings of a man's mind away for the moment. He followed his host into the depths of her personal living quarters, the automatic door whooshing shut behind him and the brightness of her lights temporarily causing an involuntary squint and adjustment of the pupils. He almost absent-mindedly followed her hanging towel into the lavatory, but a sharp realization followed by an equally sharp turn brought him to a small chair situated in the middle of the room amongst a larger couch and coffee table. He laid his blunderbuss on the ground next to the arm of the chair and the sheathed short-sword next to it.
"This concerns the mission," he began, speaking in a slightly elevated tone to make sure Monika could hear him in the adjacent room. "Your spirits... They're intriguing, to say the least. That ability you used, the one with the massive recoil kick... Just what is that?"
Pungent silence resulted from the prose of his inquiry; appalled amazement, wonder, all invitations of bewilderment at something she, herself, could hardly comprehend. Monika refused to answer immediately, busily and methodically smoothing and drying the towel over her arms, legs, torso lined with pale, silvery tissue of puckered memories, before allowing it to fall beneath her feet. Only then, with gauging her vulnerability and modesty in the reflective glass, did she answer.
"What is such a subjective term, Nicholas." The rustle of cloth succeeding her murmur. "But, if it helps you. . . When I feel them, they're like divine glimmers of absolution, but also vengeance. I cannot fathom their might sometimes, I once tried engaging them in speech, but they don't seem capable of communication other than through those beams of light." Monika peered around the threshold, glancing into the foyer where he had seated himself and briefly began gauging his expressions. "I don't know if you can see them, but they are like these winged creatures, mortal and vulpine, some form of hybrid existence." She vanished once more, presumably to continue dressing.
"I've never concerned a name, but, there is a whisper of a voice, an appellation that is befitting. I don't know if you're familiar with Anatolian, though." Monika vacated the lavatory, donned in similar threads she wore at Oak Ridge, fitting and taut athletic wear with a loose sheaf of cotton over her front, toned in grey. "Vergeltung. It means revenge."
"Vergeltung. Revenge. Intriguing... "
Niko fell into thoughts for a brief moment. His mind swirled around the foreign word and its ominous meaning; the irony was not lost on the boy either. His personal mission could be described in a number of ways, but this Anatolian dialect seemed to fit well. He began to ponder on machinations of a darker origin while a side eye glanced over to the adjacent room where Monika was allegedly dressing. An exhale evaporated into the air followed by a confirming nod to no one in particular. This visit had been fruitful after all and Monika had indeed been the perfect candidate. Niko stood and re-situated his gear on his body once more before strolling over to the wall at the edge of the open door and leaning against, making sure not to peek in. He folded his arms and grinned briefly. "Sounds like there's a compelling tale to go along with that sort of ability name. You should tell me about it on the way to the meeting," he said.
"I suppose," Monika mused aloud, piling her clothing else where, bloodied and crusted in mud and useless as they were.
It was a brief term of musing and speculation, enough of a proposing conglomerate of thoughts and wonder, that bid Monika's silence and her piercing observation. Having opted for glancing back to the silver mirror with her frigid countenance and expression rigid, a curious notion intrigued her enough to lean closer, lashes fluttered wide, glancing from brow, to lips, to the healing bruise and cuts that had crowned at her temple earlier. She partially anticipated the aforementioned spirits of glimmering absolution and vulpine graces to reappear, bidden and convinced by their conversation and Nicholas' inquiries to their very nature. She could not define it, and she pondered just what was so intriguing. With a swift gesture, she stepped out from the personal and intimate quarters of her room, finding that Nicholas had moved closer, posed against the wall with an eye carefully adverted.
"A tale? Are you expecting some grand story and revelation how they earned such a name?" Monika observed his profile; shorter than most men of Guardianship, dark hair mussed from towel-dried graces, earthen gazes hosted by a simplistic face with features laden with a brooding fixture. He was leagues different, in comparison, to Graham. Crooked smiles traded in place for a favour of a brief grin, polite and familiar, in vague compositions that Monika could speculate on and peered through the fringe of her lashes. He was different from Ollie as well, lacking that mysterious shell and exterior the archer possessed, but something akin to misplacement, and she vaguely remembered when she first met this boy and helping him personally in those combative scenarios.
"You'll be disappointed if that's the case. They are what they are.. because of how they are. I can only tell you what I feel when they are around. Just like all the others." Monika stepped aside, her sword having taken residency near the door where she grasped it, fingers cinched tight in a vice until she posed it over her slender shoulder, easily balancing the weight as she punched in the series of numbers to unleash the door. "But," she turned, wisps of ebony tresses coming loose from her piled mass of obsidian hair cutting over her gaze of ice. "Why are you asking me? Why do you want to know about my spirits?"
Niko blinked and pushed himself from the wall casually. Her question was innocent, but Monika had absolutely no idea what she was asking. Making it to graduation had only been the first part of Niko's journey and the real work was still yet to begin. "I was just... Interested. Your spirits don't strike me the same way as everyone else's. Granted, I know about as much as anyone else when it comes to the spirits," he smirked a bit at the lie as it slid out of his mouth, "but yours just seem a whole lot more sentient? Or... goal oriented? Like, they're actively working towards a goal in conjunction with your own thoughts maybe?" He chuckled and exhaled. He knew he was making little sense. "I don't know. Seeing those attacks just kind of perked up my interest. The power behind them seems a lot greater than one could achieve from something like training..."
Niko followed the feminine contour to the door and pocketed his hands as his brow furrowed. His gaze hardened for mere seconds as he focused on Monika and tried to visibly pick out some of her spirits. This was not the time, but that time would come. It was only a matter of patience now.
Power.
The world was a bedlam of festering truth, of memories, pain, guilt, and soured notes of reflection. The syllables were spoken with such carelessness, tinged in the waning notes of a chortle, a simple enough chuckle that had previously procured a perplexed expression across her rigid grace. She couldn't decipher his speech, jumbled, chaotically assembled as if trying to glean over his intentions of venturing into the endless bounds of spiritual discussion. Monika had never inquired to the origins of her spirits or probed too deeply into philosophy and fate that seemed to perform in tandem with the notions of empathy and attraction. A boundless amount of Why's splintered somewhere in her mind and whispers of a woman with eyes of broken sapphires came through the fissures, seeping into her ice laden fortifications, breaking them down. One, by one, bye one. Walls of brick, ice, cemented by detachment and self directed malice. Perfection, obsession, the need to prove something in juncture with her very power warping deep, so deep, into the pit of her burdened heart and addled soul.
Monika's breath hitched.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about." She muttered, those eyes of glaciers and steel bound winters briefly reflecting the shattering effects within, the utterance of that word fostering guilt and bringing with it a contingent of memories of ill origin and denial. The spirits glimmering off her flesh, the peculiar shimmer that bathed Monika in harsh degrees of cold and summoned splinters of ice briefly wailed, warning accentuation, moaning threat compounded by the need of protection from the ominous crumble of her chasm of emotional discipline. And as soon as though emotes of agony and guilt shone so brightly in her eyes, they quickly dissipated, replaced with her uniform severity - bound and tempered.
"We should go, we've carried on too long." Monika adjusted the grasp on the Caladbolg, unaware and blissfully ignorant over the pain lancing through her palm, creating beads of blood through the flesh until slivers of ice crackled to fruition and life, dipping into the coffers of her life line as she all but fled from Nicholas and down the hall.
Niko stopped as Monika hurriedly pushed forward, thin ribbons of blood leaking down her tightening palm and her giant blade swaying against her movements. She had clearly been flustered by something her former sparring partner had said, but her reaction was still unexpected. For someone so together and tightly coiled to unravel that easily was interesting in and of itself. Watching her literally run away from the situation was even more intriguing, so much so that Niko muttered a jumbled word of surprise and raised an eyebrow. He had not been completely serious when he suggested that maybe something more than training gave Monika her abilities, but her rush to get away after mentioning such solidified the idea. Was it even possible?
"You're right... We've carried on much too long," Niko said to himself quietly as Monika's silhouette disappeared from view. With that, he increased his own pace from a slow stroll to a quickened march as he remembered he also needed to get to the meeting on time.
Cold water splashed to the floor of the small metallic coffin in sporadic drops ever muffled by the rumble of water being forced upward from a store tank located somewhere in the belly of the MOV. Graham did not hum nor speak as he stood within the rectangle where even he as lanky as he was could barely fit within standing arm simply pressed against the far wall. The cold rush sent shivering cascades through his body dampening the pounding thump of his skull. The blood and the mud ran down from the clumps matted in his hair now slick and heavy with water down across bare skin before falling to the floor of the shower where blood and earth mixed into a sickly red before falling through the grate upon the floor. Even as he continued to cleanse himself of gore the bruising on his body already began to fade from hues of dark getting lighter and lighter by the passing hour. He could feel it beneath his skin as the spirits began to knit and reform flesh breathing life into what was once dead. This was the blessing and curse, forever locked into an endless cycle of death and rebirth body refusing to give in until its duty is done.
Showers themselves were something that Graham had once forgotten about in their entirety. Living in what even among the Tread would consider the worst of the slums where sleep meant rusty gutters and crowded alleyways and basic needs such as food and drink were foot over by many desperate hands meant that even basic hygiene vanished after a while as you fell deeper into the pits of savagery. The smell was repulsive at first it made you shrink back and your nostrils flare but soon it became the smell of home. The rains were the only deprives of this when they fell all the other urchins danced barefeet slapping against the pavement in joy among the thundering of the storms even as those better off crowded in the beds from the sounds of raging skies. When the men from the military first brought him in after discovering him, the first thing they did was throw him in a military cleaner a lot like the one he was in now. He remembered the shock of the water hitting him even as one of the soldiers instructed him to scrum himself free of the dirt. He was shocked to see the skin beneath all the grime, raw and white after what seemed like an eternity of scrubbing as if a great burden had been removed from it. It took him a while after that to get used to the idea of cleaning himself everyday something that still shows with his refusal to trim his hair down to a respectable length.
As he thought about the past his mind began to wander backwards as the sound of water from the shower began to fade away and the heavy artificial light of the MOV faded into darkness. Slowly they were placed with an overcast sky of gray as rain fell heavily against low rising rooftops of city slums and the sound of heavy panting and bare feet slapping against hard concrete in the rain. He was a boy again maybe barely twelve years of age back in the Tread, back in hell. He remembered the events that would follow and yet his body moved on its own accord charging headlong into fate. As a child underfed and exhausted he did not have the most imposing cut wearing the same worn clothes that he had taken with him when he and Anna had fled a drowned city and the sounds of firing squads. Attached to his shirt poking through the fabric was a small and beautiful flower in contrast to the rest of his ragged physique bright pink in color. A gift from Anna supposedly it was meant for good luck.
He could hear them coming from behind chasing after him shooting curses as heavy padded footfalls slammed into the roof. They were after the small white cylinder grasped in his left hand even among the rain and the activity he could hear the rattling of pills as they bounced up in the bottle. They were simple antibiotics and he needed them dearly and so he did the only thing a poor urchin could do in such a situation he stole them. Yet Graham was young and inexperienced though and the pharmacist saw the shape of the little thief leaping out of his window and so a call to the security force went out and now here he was running for his life. If he had just dropped the pills the men would of probably stopped chasing him but he couldn't do that he sister was sick and these pills were what could save her.
He pushed ever onward barreling through lines of drying clothes, over small fences and other fixtures upon the roofs moving like a man possessed even as the sounds of the men grew ever closer. He stopped short as he almost ran dead across the edge of the roof he currently was on. The gap between this building and the next was bigger than ones he was used to opening up to a large alleyway below almost street size in width. Desperately he looked back and saw that the guards were almost upon him. He looked back towards the roof and once more at the guards and then he did the only thing he could do. He jumped.
For a brief moment in time he was suspended in the air like a bird, free from the clutches of the guards and oppressive chains of the Tread and if he wanted to he could just fly away from it all. Then the opposing roof came back up to meet him and he reached out across the void towards it like the last floating piece of a sinking vessel suspended in the ocean. His right hand hit the edge of the roof but as the force of his body hit into it the worn and dilapidated structure give way and he was holding nothing at all. He hit the rain soaked ground was a solid thud and pain flared through his body as the pill bottle fell out of his hands and rolled some distance away. The fall wasn’t great enough to permanently injure him but ever still his chest heaved as lungs tried to pull back in the air that was forcibly pushed out of them.
Through no small force of effort he managed to roll himself onto his stomach and using his arms slowly pulled his body across the ground towards the bottle even as the pain screamed through his body. When he was about halfway there he found his path blocked by a large pair of legs with a large shadow bearing over him like the specter of death. He looked up to see the grinning face of the lead guard that was chasing him looking down at him. Graham tried to scramble backwards but could not move as the guard grabbed a handful of his long blonde hair and using it yanked him up and onto his knees. The man peered down at the urchin with a cold and unwavering gaze.
“You shouldn't of run boy.” The man spoke in a heavy Tenebraian accent as he pulled at the boy’s hair harder forcing him to look up at him. Graham look and saw that the man’s cohorts stood slightly behind him, one was reaching for the pill bottle that had fallen to the ground while the others stood about menacingly heavy metal truncheons grasped in large muscular hands. Graham looked back at the leader, a giant of a man with a large square face and large bushy mustache he looked almost like a friendly giant from the old stories his mom used to tell but the giants never had the look in their eyes that the man did. Graham unwilling to back down simply spat in the man’s face in defiance. The mustached man dropped his hold on the boy’s hair and before Graham could even see what was happening the man’s hand moved like a blur and his own metal club came smashing right in the space between the boy’s right shoulder and neck making him double over in pain. As he did the guard that had picked up the pill bottle came over and approached the man who re sheathed his weapon, he was a weedy individual not much older than Graham maybe in his late teens with freshly cut red hair and a freckled covered face. When he spoke his voice was high and nasally.
“This is what he stole.” The mustached man wrenched the pill bottle out of the younger man’s hand and looked upon the labeled. He looked at the boy and then at the label letting out a low laugh as he did using his free hand to pull Graham back up so that he could look at him properly.
“Well you’re a right idiot risking your life for this.This is simple medication, you can’t sell this for much of anything.” The man explained sternly shoving the bottle of pills in Graham’s face. The boy shook his head knocking the hand away as he looked up at the man and spoke towards him voice surprisingly stern for the situation he was in.
“I wasn’t going to sell it. It’s for my sister!” He explained to the guards and as he spoke the words the freckled one looked uncertain as he caught the eye of his superior who just shook his head. A moment later the mustached man’s hand came down hard across his face in a closed hand slap, the sound ringing outward into the open alleyway cutting through the drip of rain.
“There is one thing I hit more than thieves boy, and that is little lying rats!” The man yelled and as Graham began to rise his voice in protest he was backhanded again. His face stung with pain but yet again he looked back up at the mustached man and this time he yelled it.
“She needs it or she is going to die!” The mustached man took the truncheon off of his belt once again without speaking and Graham tried to pull away by the red headed youth had moved behind him and prevented his escape. On his knees he looked up at the man who held the bottle of pills and the metal club in the other face stern and emotionless.
“Tell me you were going to sell them you little lying thief. One more chance.”
“I didn’t.” The next moment his world was consumed with a blinding flash of pain as the men swung hard and connected with the side of the boy’s face sending him sprawling sideways. As the impact sounding Graham felt something in his jaw give as his mouth shifted before he crashed face first into the ground. It was at that point that the rest of the guards began his punishment as a furry of blows began to be released from boot and club. For Graham was nothing but a little thief and nobody would care what happened to him. As blows stroke his small body one of the guards took the bottle of pills and opened it spilling the contents over the boy's head before shoving him hard face first back into the ground. All Graham could do was close his eyes and hope it would end soon.
After what seemed like an eternity the punishment was over and the guards had left leaving what they thought only a small broken fragment in its wake. His clothes were torn and his entire body felt ragged, used and beaten like his very soul had been cast somewhere far away. He tasted blood in his mouth and it hurt to move and the world seemed to continually wobble and rotate on its axis. Any other child or even men would of died long ago but only later would Graham realize it was the spirits laying dormant inside his body that had preserved his body even as his soul lay destroyed. The rain continued to fall around him making the blood wash down his face and body as he forced himself to reach out and grab the pill bottle. Ever so slowly he began to grab the pills from the wet ground some of them dissolving in his touch from the rain but ever still he scoped their fragments and pieces back into the bottle.
All the while he fought back the urge to cry, he fought back the urge to give up. He couldn't give up. Father had told him that since he was going off to war that he needed to be the one to protect his family, he needed to be the strong one to protect Anna. Shaking hands closed the pill bottle the white cap now stained red with his blood and slowly he pulled himself to his feet as even his insides burned. He braced himself against the side of one of the buildings that made up the alleyway and slowly he pushed himself forward step by step back towards where Anna was. And as he moved he didn't notice the tears streaming down his face blending in with the ever constant rain.
His eyes opened and he was back in the shower, back far away from the past and reflexively he brought a hand up to feel his jaw and the crookedness of teeth, a permanent reminder of that day. The shower had turned off long ago as he had overran his limited water ration and yet he stood there still for a moment before he moved ever slowly out of the shower. His footfalls fell to the bench outside where a clean set of military fatigues lay waiting for him along with his weapon and mud covered shoes. In silence he pulled the clothes on, the fabric clinging to his wet body with each movement, the shoes following and after that Sera getting strapped onto his back once more. He looked into a mirror that was in the room back at his own reflection, he did not look like the cocky arrogant son of a bitch that everybody knew him as, he looked like the boy in that alleyway, a boy that he had said died long ago.
He forced a smile upon his face the movement coming almost naturally and soon the unrest and unease seemed to vanish from his very appearance. Though the blue eyes were darker and colder than they should of been it was always harder to fake the eyes he found out. He breathed outward and buried the feelings and memories like he always did running away from them whenever he could and when his opened the faint sparkle was there once again. He then moved out of the room and headed towards the meeting area. That boy was dead and Graham Tosches had a world to save.
T R A N S P O R T Saturday 6 June-Unknown Time Mid-transit from Doral to front line operations The incessant roaring of the transport ship carrying him and the group of Doral recruits to the front line rattled and shaked as the low altitude transport began hitting turbulance. Those unprepared sat there wide eyed and in shock in the disbelief that their life had brought them to this point of active combat, those prepared had a mixed reaction of concern and even some mild excitement. And then there was Mike.
Mike beamed gleefully out the window watching the world go by as transport brought them closer to the most fun he was most likely ever going to have in his entire military career. His gleefull attitude was suddenly interupted by the overwhelming shaking of the soldier next to him, as Mike looked him over he realized that the boy couldn't be any younger than him as the boy was shaking literally in his boots wielding his almost brand new rifle. Realizing that the boy and frankly everyone in the ship could use a little pick me up, Mike nonchalantly turned his mics on and shoved his hand into the boys face.
"'Allo 'ere, names Mike."
The boy, slightly confused, took the Mike's hand and gave a weak shake. As the boy looked Mike over seeing his gear and weapons and the strange comm device locked onto Mike's neck and quickly realized who and what Mike was,
"Your a Guardian aren't you?"
"Aye lad, 'at I am. Tell me lad, where ya from?"
"Doral, I was picked when the Army came to recruit us. To be honest this is the first time I've ever held a gun before, let alone a combat rifle."
The boys face grew ever more somber as his head hung low as he made himself realize what he exactly was just about to get himself into. After seeing the boys reaction and the general state of the ships occupants Mike jumped up and walked himself to the middle of the ship and spoke to the ship as a whole.
Mike is as giddy as a school girl to be on the transport ship heading to the front lines, but notices that some of the other soldiers are not as thrilled as he is. Mike uses his spirit Bua to boost the soliders confidence
Kinabalu Mission Entrance to the Mines Cameron Thael Conrad
Thael froze, wracked by indecision. Selene’s brash attack had thrown the situation into absolute chaos. His first thought was to save Selene; her current predicament was entirely her own fault, but she was a fellow soldier, even if he didn’t care for her very much. But a darker notion wormed its way into his mind; leave her to her fate. Despite the strangers foreboding appearance, she hadn’t actually harmed any of them yet. Selene was reckless, a danger to her teammates and impossible to control; let the stranger have her, and it would be one less headache to deal with.
Subira was faster to respond than he was, darting out and plucking Selene from danger and solving Thael’s dilemma in one swift motion. It was only then that he noticed a dark tendril of shadow that had slipped past his shield and wrapped around his ankle. He sliced it away with the tip of his spear, and his darker doubts seemed to vanish. That was it then, the time for diplomacy was over.
Subira and Selene were now well clear. Thael’s glowing barrier abruptly dissipated as he hefted his spear, sighting it at the core of the stranger’s molten shadows, and let it fly with superhuman strength. A flight of luminous lances materialized from the air, all bearing down directly on the shadowy adversary blocking the mine’s entrance.
