Blizz

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

I mean. Phantasia does exist.

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

---

Location: The Framework
Skills: Gay

There weren’t many things that could bug Leah. But her girlfriend being distressed was certainly one of them. She clicked her wet hair backwards over her shoulder and held April close. It was a bittersweet sight, these three being so intimately close to one another in a flooded room of broken glass and bleeding teenagers. The Avengers had taken over, cuffing Ed and healing all the injuries. Thankfully, the three of them weren’t in any bad condition. Not physically, at least. Leah still wanted to reduce Ed to dust for what he did- For what he would try.

But when She Hulk mentioned their parents… A small part of Leah cringed up.

”Why don’t we just get out of here?” She whispered, just loud enough that the two of them could hear. She put a hand around Sabine’s waist and pulled her in closer. ”They can handle this. And if they know about this, April’s parents definitely know by now. Let’s go, just the three of us.” It would probably do April a lot of good to be away from all of this. ”You can stay in our dorm for tonight if you want, April?”

Recollections: Primal Sinister

You already know what the fuck boutta happen

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Eleventh Path

---

@AtomicEmperor

Up until now, Amara had been silent as a mouse. She was observing the way people behaved, the information they were bringing. The plan was to just broadside them and split into four teams. One for the broadsiding, one for the artifacts, one for making teleporting possible, and one for everything else. Okay, solid plan. Amara didn’t have a problem with that, necessarily. But that came with its own issues.

”Okay, back up a second,” she spoke up at last. Amara stood up and walked around to the map. ”I’m seeing a couple problems with this. The first one being communication. Like you said, we gotta just let this shit flow sometimes so a hard and fast plan won’t be perfect. But, how’re we getting everyone in gear for shit when we’re actually there? We just banking on teleported being enough when the Veil’s down?” She asked. ”That’s gonna be a lotta people moving around, some of them might need to meet each other when they’re done, for backup. But that’s no big deal- I got an idea for that.”

Five ghostly figures appeared around the room, standing ramrod straight with their hands folded behind them. ”I’m magically linked to all of them, like a hive mind. Four teams means I’d have one to spare if I gave up one for all four. Treat ‘em like they’re expendable when you’re in. They’ll fight and if someone happens, I’ll know even if you don’t radio in.”

The biggest danger for the vault team would be getting there and last that dog. ”I’ll send the extra in with your vault team, so two of them can deal with this “Starving Dog” thing. Based on what you’ve got here, the vault’s gonna be the most dangerous part of this even if you draw heat away.”

If Lynn’s prediction was correct, zombies wouldn’t be the biggest hurdle. They usually died when you shot them in the head. ”I’ll put myself on the assault team, I’m a good shot. Greyson-” She turned around, pointing at the Pink Patriarch himself. ”Any way you could use your mob connections to get some ammo fast enough for this?” She, the ex-cop, asked the capo.

”…Wait. Where the fuck is he?”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Everyone

The Eleventh Path

---

There were of course, many questions to be answered. And he'd answer them.

Jack walked in behind the rest of the 317, back to where he was before stepping out. Letting them meet the others and get on as they would, he took to explaining things as best as possible. There was much to do, but thankfully, time in the Eleventh Path moved differently by design. One hour here was only forty minutes in Shimmer, roughly speaking. They could spend additional time discussing particulars here and have time to spare back home. Jack mentally counted the minutes between now and when Greenwood was due to step in, a chronological calculation he could keep track of thanks to a clock on the wall, which flipped between relative time and Shimmer's as he thought of it. The simple wonder of this pocket realm was the sheer control one gained when creating it from raw Lux.

"The plan, as I understand it, is to divide ourselves into two groups," Jack explained. "One to distract the Elite with brute force, and the other to raid their vault. Decide for yourselves where your skills are more appropriate."

”In the last few days I’ve met with a contact to get an in with Blake Schmidt- a way for me to access his dreams. It would be ruined if I’m caught raiding his island for Artifacts, and then our second option for if this fails is gone.”

”You failed to mention it, but I presume our plan is to take Kari’s notes along with the Artifacts? We don’t want them deciphered by the House of Cards, even if the Artifacts will be more useful to us.”

Anya

“What sort of… artifacts are you hoping they'll hold? Is it worth risking the lives of the living?”

Alizee

"If we can find her notes, then we will," he nodded. "But our primary goal is the artifacts: The Map of the Drunken Sailor and the Mirror on the Wall. They are information-gathering tools, which is what we are after. They will point us in the right direction, and lead us to Father Wolf."

Sloane walked over, and Jack didn't give her any reason not to pick up the Brass Needle. She looked terrible, a far cry from the usually dignified, noble air she cultivated. Had she heard the news of the murders before now? It worried Jack that among the people assembled, only a few seemed to be taking it this badly.

“Also, Jack, you found Auri, yes? Do you have the Butterfly Staff? I’d happily lend out my Counterfeit for the raid if I can hold on to the original.”

Sloane

He caught the look she was giving Luca. A plan to replace his Rot with something less malignant?

"I did not find her. Britney did," he said, knowing what she was attempting to convey. "The Butterfly Staff is across the hall right now, in our artifact vault. I considered returning it to Auri's family out of respect. But-" Surely they'd understand. "We have more important things to concern ourselves with. I'll pull it from there for you shortly." That was the sign that he picked up on it.

"And I want to make something clear to all of you." Jack gestured to the Sycamore members in particular. "Should any of you decide not to participate in the raid, you won't be judged for it. Not everyone can comfortably fight to the death in these situations, and there is no shame in acknowledging that. This was Greenwood's and the 317's plan. Not ours, so only join them if you know you can handle this."

---

Rohan

A grizzled old man followed the 317 into the Eleventh Path, wearing all black like the rest of them. Black gloves, black shoes, black everything. Only he also carried an animal mask, a longbow, a comical amount of arrows, and a wooden scepter made of ashen oak. Rohan was rarely seen outside the 317's compound, barring an odd job fixing floors or moving furniture. But tonight, he was ready for war. He looked around the room and studied the people gathered. Octavia and Faith were cool with these people, that was enough for Rohan.

"If you need weapons, I can scrounge something up," He said, speaking up in a gruff, yet mellowed out voice. "I don't make them that often, but I have some in my shop. This staff can turn just about anything to ash, magic protections or not... Name's Rohan, by the way. I'm with them." He pointed a finger at Octavia and Jordan. "And I'll be up on somewhere high, picking people off so the way's clear. I brought medical supplies, too. If anyone wants or needs a rundown on first aid, grab me before we go."

X-Men: GenetiX

”Yeah, you’re looking at it,” Ryder commented, pointing a thumb at herself. ”Me. All I have to do is get in there and the whole building is mine to fucking control. They made me so I’d be that powerful, they just didn’t think I’d be more just powerful.”

The images on the screen shifted to a map of the computer systems. ”Everything in there is redundant- One thing breaks, something else picks up the slack and keeps operating. I’ll cripple it regardless, so the bastardized have to actually worry about keeping their systems up.” Diagrams of the elevator system appeared and demonstrated that there was no possible way to get anywhere quickly without them. Shutting them off as well as other intersectional systems would prevent the vast majority of the guards from doing anything about their assault.

”I’ll be heading down as deep as possible, so don’t try and slow me down.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

I’d get him kicked of there too but murder would be involved

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

I’m getting Jack banned from the Card Shark at some point now.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Veil

---

”Don’t leave me here…” Amara’s legs were giving out, as the warmth of her blood slid down her stomach. Her left foot wasn’t working anymore, thanks to the severed tendon. She had tried to fight back, but the stomach wound was what decided she’d die here.

There was no one in this city of haze and glass for miles. Her old friend stared down at her, his dagger clenched in his hand. In hindsight, maybe she should has seen Hayden’s betrayal sooner. All that talk of “magic,” all that talk of the supernatural and people who saw visions of animals… It was always nonsense to her but he had shown it to her once. They were kids, and they would run down the paths into the bushes where his parents grew fellberries. They’d sneak until the bridge and Haden would show him little ghostly mice that he’d conjured with what he called golden Lux.

They were adults now, and so much had happened since those days. He had started creating dogs, then bears, then people out of that strange magical energy. And slowly, ironic as it was, the real people he had in his life had started fading out as one of his homunculi went rogue. Everyone surrounding him had been slowly murdered and it was Amara who found out.

She found out when a bullet went through her window, killing her father while Haden was helping him with their boiler. It was an accident, and Haden somehow knew that.

So now she begged at his feet. She begged for her life, begged that her friend wouldn’t betray her and let her die alone. She didn’t have anybody. All her childhood friends went on to university a few cities over, in that new school that a lord had sponsored. But her dad was old, so she took care of him when he needed it.

And sometimes she’d even fight monsters. Haden’s mother taught her swordplay when she was young. It was thrilling, and it paid for things.

She couldn’t fight back with her broken wrist, though.

“I can’t let you tell anyone about this, Amara…” Haden closed the distance between them and shoved her face into the cobblestone road. Her vision inverted and swam.

“I can’t let anyone know it was my fault my family died. My sister, my wife-“

”You weren’t-“ Amara coughed up blood. ”You weren’t going to marry her… She had that apprenticeship in Morrha… Your creature shot my father, Haden!” Amara tried to stand, but his dagger cut her across the eye and planted her right back on the ground.

“I mourn for Kyro, my friend. I do. But the Guard will hang me or worse if they know it was my Lux who killed them all.” Haden’s breath hitched in his throat at the thought. The Guard were magic prosecutors, working their way into every little use of paranormal abilities to regulate it.

If they found him, there was no telling what they’d do.

Amara’s blood mingled with tears that pricked at her eyes. Her hands started to tremble as she pushed herself upright. ”I- Look at me- Please… Haden…” She sobbed. ”I can help you… You created it! You know how to kill it and I can fight for you!”

Haden looked away from her with his dour, green eyes, and up into the cloudy sky above. As if expecting the three moons to give him an answer, he just sighed.

Did her only friend really want to kill her? Couldn’t he trust her?

”Don’t you remember? When we were just children and we always looked out for one another?” Amara’s chest felt cold. ”When- When you got in trouble with the consul at the court? I snuck you out. I…”

Her breath caught in her throat. ”I pulled you out of the river with a broken wrist… I stood up for you when you were interrogated a year ago. Your mother-“

Haden sunk the dagger into Amara’s collarbone, and she screamed.

“My mother is dead,” he growled. Amara’s vision twisted until she couldn’t see straight, she was on fire and cold as ice at the same time. She tried to pull away from the searing pain but only slipped on her own blood.

“I don’t think you’d keep quiet.” He ripped the knife out, and her left arm felt numb.

“So, I’m sorry…”

Stab.

“My old friend, Amara…”

Stab.

“But it’s just too convenient to get rid of you.”

STAB.

Amara wailed and cried with each fresh wound Haden opened. It was more pain than she knew a person could experience, more blood than she knew someone had inside them. She was too weak to stop him, only able to claw at his face with a bloody hand. And when Haden knew for sure that there was no fight left within her, he stood up and walked away.

She fought so hard to stop him. For an entire hour, they traded blows in this alleyway. Amara with fists and Haden with a sharp blade. But in the end, he knew her too well. And now she was unmade, lying in a dirty alleyway while her blood pooled.

She was dying. And yet she was all too lucid for death.

Everything was black to her. Shapes and lines with no color. Just foggy blots of ink.

Amara King saw a dog, fur like shadows and eyes like her stained hands. She felt a haze of apathy wrap itself around her, like a warm coat. It beckoned to her, it spoke of the continuance that all things experienced. That Death comes for all.

Amara felt cold indifference take her, and she made a choice.

”…”No.”

It was in that moment when Death came for her, that something foundational to the human condition cracked. That fear she fought against, that desire to live, to fight, it rubbed off on the world, and the cold feeling of nothingness fell like ash. A force of determination slipped the jaws of black oblivion, and it endured.

At first there was pain.

Then there was nothing.

And then, there was only war.

Sparkle

---

She marched through the tundra snow, crossbow held aloft. The wind whipped around her and threatened to cut right through her, but the ghosts stayed exactly within range, their formation just tight enough that one wouldn't lose the others. A single file line, like a pack of wolves following each other in a chain.

They followed the thin trail of red that blurred against the fresh snow. It was all she needed to keep the Staghorn within killing distance. Amara followed, pointing her weapon this way and that, just in case any of the bastard managed to leap out at her through the thick haze of grey that surrounded her. They loved snowstorms, there could be a dozen of them around here. Her fingers were numb beneath the thick gloves she wore, but she trusted her squad to jump in if her shot failed.

Each of the specters bore a weapon of their own, enchanted by the Quartermaster back home to take these beasts down quicker; A spear infused with holly oil, a rifle that could skipped bullets and simply put holes in things, two daggers that always hit a target if thrown together, a fire breathing shotgun, and a chain that partially sealed everything struck with it. Her crossbow could punch holes through solid rock, and so far it had made short work of two Staghorns. One of their skulls was packed up in her bag for later.

In this valley, they had been breeding so much that they were spilling out and down into Canada. An enclave of green Adepts mutated them into monsters to act as some kind of sick working class, but they were all killed months ago. Now, they were killing people in her town, and people started talking about the killings from outside town. And by damn she wouldn't let such a thing foment in her territory.

Seven.

Amara turned almost 180 degrees and pointed her crossbow forward. The knife-wielding ghost flung both of its weapons into that blanket of alabaster fog, and a shriek rang out as the creature slid forward. It came to a dead stop just before them, the knives embedded right into each eye.

”We’re getting close!” She shouted, over the wind. ”Front and gamma, take the advance! Find the nest and circle back to center. We’re going home when they’re all dead and nothing sooner!”

And so they marched, and razed a den of abominations to the ground.

Stars

---

Blades of ivory swooped just inches away from bee face as she ducked beneath Kirk’s swords. Every swing threatened to put her in the kind of pain that sapped a person’s strength despite hurting very little. Her army could’ve move, they were immobilized in their ghostly state by the swords. He drove her into a corner, and she dove under his arms as he tore through the brick walls.

”Chief!” A voice on her somalink shouted. It was almost hard to hear him over the rain. ”What’s your position?! We’re almost-“

BANG! Chief Amara King raised her mana pistol and fired it straight into Kirk’s chest, only for their latent magic to kick in at just the right time and deflect the bullet.

The blue Adept laughed, and advanced. That was what she wanted.

”Hold your god damned positions, Rosh,” Amara answered back without breaking a sweat. She tossed her gun overhead and swung her legs low. A technique often learned by those who studied capoeira, known as a zentosai. Kirk assumed she was trying to get a cheap shot in on him, and she was, but the gun was misdirection.

Kirk’s legs went out from underneath him, and he swore something in German. His curse-channeling swords clattered to the floor and Amara took a step back. Touching them was enough for his Ten Agonies to take hold, one of her captains learned that the hard away. Her gun fell before one of the phantoms, as she intended.

And this was the moment she sprung her trap. The phantoms flickered out of existence, and five more took their pace who weren’t cursed. Kirk didn’t know she could do that.

One picked up the mana pistol and hammered it across Kirk’s face just as he was getting to his feet, and three more grappled him.

And just like that, he was taken out. He needed his swords to cast his spells.

Amara pinged her somalink. ”All squads, Kirk is disarmed. Sending my location, prep the van for class nine. Bring a blue vessel for the swords.”

Arcane Peace Enforcement bans rolled through the rain and stopped in a circle around the chief. They fired anti-Lux drugs into him as her phantoms flickered out. He screamed in bloody agony as they filled his system and fell to the pavement.

“Bastards- Lightfather as my witness… You’ll all suffer when we’re through with you!” The scraggly man bellowed, and Rosh clamped a somatic mask over his mouth.

”I want him questioned by Viglance ASAP. We’re sending these fucking vagrants back the way they came, and he’s gonna help us do it.” Amara took her gun back from a phantom, and her subordinates took over.

The crystal pinned to her uniform chimed, signaling a message.

“Chief, we got word that more came in through the south side.”

”Get Mahayla and Vastel on that. We’re on our way.”

If the League of Luminescence thought they were going to get an easy win, they had another thing coming. Amara climbed into a van, and her squad sped off.

Moonbow

---

A phalanx of some three hundred phantoms marched into the canyon with Amara the Grey at the forefront. Flanked on each side by Grandmaster Crom and Diana, she led the army into the resting place of the dragon. Red rock flaked beneath them, the steady thundering of feet walking in perfect unison shook the walls. Amara nodded at Diana, and she sent her sprits ahead.

The plan was simple, provoke the dragon to make it come to them, fight it out of its comfort zone, and bring its corpse back to the Necropolis. Crom withdrew his athame, and the old man called forth a tornado that touched down a mile away.

Every phantom raised a longbow, and readied enchanted arrows. They waited silently, and after minutes passed, a figure the size of a mountain streak across the sky.

“You know what to do,” the necromancer whispered to the wraiths she bound, through the link they shared. “Drain it until it falls, make it land.”

“I’ll push it this way.” Crom flicked his channeler through the air, and the tornado warped in ways a tornado never did. Like bending a chain, it whipped around in place and smacked the beast’s wing. The old Adept saw this as child’s play.

”Phantoms! This is where we stop the monster’s streak!” The commander of Sablerock shouted. ”We’ll bring this thing down at last, and make sure it doesn’t rise again!”

The dragon was a zombie, a revenant that fed of life like a ghoul. Twice it had been slain, and twice it had risen again. Amara’s court had finally devised a way to ensure it stayed dead, by binding the creature within a prison fabricated from its own heart. The ritual would last two weeks, and require intense labor. But their people were powerful, this would be the worst of it. She had faith in them.

Ghostly figures hacked away with spears, siphoning what life energy it had and slowly compelling the undead dragon to fall.

FIRE!

All at once, three hundred arrows were released into the sky above the Earth. And all at once, they landed. Her spirits were were trained for war in days before time had a name, simple archery was second nature to them. Every last arrow struck it, piercing flesh and wing alike.

No one believed it would be enough, but that was why they planned for a longer campaign into this canyon. The dragon screeched, and the army readied another volley. Amara signaled again, and they let loose another hail.

The dragon exhaled incarnate Death itself, turning the wood of the arrows to ash and the silver to tarnished sands. Clouds above the dragon compressed into swords no smaller than the dragon, and they cleaved at its scales.

Grandmaster Crom, Voice of the Wind and Father of the Skies, unleashed another trick upon the beast. One moment, he was a mortal man of eighty years. The next, he was the wind, invisible as breath and fast as thunder. He appeared atop the dragon’s head between its horns with his arms crossed.

Amara gave a signal, and the man simply nodded.

He plunged his athame into its eye, which elicited a crack that reverberated across the canyon and shook Heaven. Blood rained down thick as water, and the rotting dragon veered into a cliff.

“Now that’s gotten close enough, I think we’ll be finished soon,” Crom remarked, standing next to Diana and their commander once again.

”Break the monster!” Amara shouted.

The phantom army obeyed, for there was only war.

Radiance

---

”I’m scared.”

Amara hung from a branch, fiddling with a knife that Reyes had left her. Tara looked up at her and cracked a grin.

“You? Scared? Didn’t think you had it in you.”

”I’m serious. We don’t know how much longer it’ll be.” She stated out at the front lawn of the school, which was perfectly fine weeks ago. Yet now, it was full of creatures that made mockeries of humanity at night, only to persist in the morning if they weren’t killed.

Amara and Tara had taken to luring them out at night, whenever their parents had gone to bed, so they wouldn’t drag anyone down into the earth. So far, only two kids their age had been taken. The whole town thought it was a murderer on the loose.

”What if they don’t stop, you know?”

Tara floated up to eye level with Amara. “Yeah. I know. And what if we can’t kill them all? But we’ll be fine, okay?” The curly haired girl was always the optimistic one. Amara herself wasn’t so sure, though.

“Your ghosts have been reaching you knife fighting, right? Reyes told me they’re pretty knife-able.”

”Yeah… But I mean- They killed Wallace. They probably killed Emmet too, and we still haven’t seen him. How long are they going to keep coming?”

And tk make it worse, Reyes still hadn’t called back in. The guy was twice their age and moved into town after his white Lux rolled him off about something happening in their town. Amara just happened to be on his level in terms of training, so they all started working together. Her phantoms were out searching for him since yesterday morning. The guy was pretty damn okay.

“Hey…” Tara floated closer and kissed Amara on the forehead. “You worry too much, you know? I don’t like seeing you so worried.”

Amara blinked. ”…Nice time to break the news.”

Tara giggled. “Well, hey, I like you. Sorta always have.”

Amara put the knife away, sat up and jumped down, fixing a funny look on Tara. She always had feelings for her too, but…

”I- Yeah. Me too. I didn’t think you’d tell me now, though.” Amara slowly leaned in and returned the kiss. Her face felt cold against Amara’s. Tara gently wrapped her hands around Amara and embraced her. In the late night, the kiss was something special. Something Amara had never experienced before. It was nice, sort of.

When they broke off, Amara was frowning.

“What’s up? I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t want me to.”

”It’s not that. It’s just… Something’s wrong.”

“Like what?”

”You know how my phantoms can talk to me through my head? Well…”

Whoosh.

Amara swung Reyes’ knife right into Tara’s throat. She looked down at the knife like it didn’t even happen.

”I can talk to them too,” She continued, holding up the knife. The blood dripping from it was a sickly shade of yellow. ”And I had one watching your house all night. The real you is upstairs right now, watching movies and texting her boyfriend that I know she didn’t break up with.”

The mimic stumbled back, its eyes went from hazel to black as it gasped for breath. They spied on her, and they could apparently copy magic. Amara wiped her new knife off on the thing’s shirt.

She had the phantom guarding Tara’s house sneak in and warn her not to leave the house, and tell her that Amara was coming.

She fears for Reyes.

He’s not coming back. And if he does, you’re all ordered to kill him.

We endure. We outlast. We are War itself.

---

”We have existed long before you. In an age of swords, we first manifested.”

“In times of word and wit, we are the tactician. In times of strife, we are the blade. What are you, if not the soldier who lives to die?”

”Get the fuck away from me. I hate all of you. I am nothing like you.”

”You are the Soldier. We are the Army. Your fate is to fight and pass, and so your time is yours to spend. Spend it well.”

”You call that a life well spent? Dying alone in some fucking battle no one cares about.”

”Amara King is never alone.”

”I just wanted a normal life, away from all this shit. I never wanted to be a fucking Soldier.

”It is your path in life to be the warrior. You are not the gardener, and you never shall be.”

”Who gave you the right to decide that for me? I don’t want this. I don’t want what you all became...”

”War is not a question of desire. It is-“

”I DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING WAR!!!”

There is War, young Soldier, and War alone.”

”I don’t fucking care… Just leave me alone.”

…

What? Finally giving it a rest?

…

…Good. Stay that way for once. You’re all fucking insufferable. The only reason I keep you around is because we need you if we’re going to survive that Snake.

I was alone once, before we were One. I remember the suffering of it. No warriors to keep the peace.

You will never feel that pain, my Soldier.

Never again.

SPIRITUM

---

Morden hasn't bothered with stopping the execution of Ivan. He was torn between two thoughts. The first was that Ivan had betrayed Rassvet by even attempting to bankroll a mutiny, and thus was absolutely subject to capital punishment. It was people like him who inched the nation further and further to defeat, who made things worse for those fighting for freedom. And in that sense, Kalina been merciful towards the man she apparently knew quite well. And yet, in another sense, they were soldier. Powerful soldiers with the capacity to take out entire squads with nothing but their bare hands, but soldiers nonetheless. It wasn't in their discretion, nor was it their place to decide how judgement was to be handed down. That was the responsibility of the Rassvet courts, not a few soldiers charged with fighting on the ground.

They were extensions of Rassvet's power, its defenders. They protected civilians. Ivan betrayed his country, but he was still a citizen of Rassvet. Wasn't he subject to a trial? A court martial? Kalina just took the law into her own hands, and he didn't even fight back.

Morden felt wrong, seeing this and doing nothing about it. But what could he do? There were laws, but he wasn't in a position to enforce them anymore than the person who just executed a man.

So he turned around and didn't bother, unsure of what exactly he was meant to feel.

"...We have somewhere to be."