Greetings Einherjar
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Futuristic ❖ M I R A I ❖ E T E R N U M ❖ IC
- Thread starter Lekiel
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Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
Mirai eternuM
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
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A Duty You Can't Refuse
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Persona[/div][div class=barText]Consul Varrinne, Andarta[/div][/div]
[div class=bar][div class=title]Promina NPC[/div][div class=barText]Consul Varrinne, Director Prelate Hin,
Observer Endronus[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
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The pristine white Ark class transport ship drifted languidly over the crowds of cheering people as it headed to a large resplendent building. It's swooping architecture lent the structure a very organic outlook. Coupled with the carefully manicured vertical lawns and trimmed arches of gold the High Placidum, as it was called, was a sight to behold. Elegantly faultless, a monument to the perfection of which a perfected race of humans could achieve. It dwarfed the decent-sized Ark Class starship that gently hovered to land on the open-air bay a respectable distance to its immaculate towering doors. In turn, the High Placidum was dwarfed by the even larger Arkology, a literal vertical city that loomed in the backdrop. The placidum was a place for important meetings, for matters that demanded maximum exposure. A meeting of powers.
A perfect place as any will be.
The crowds of regally dressed Aurealians could just make out the indolent silhouette of one who reclined just behind shimmering white doors. It was as if the semi-permeable design of the ship was meant to tease at the arrival of arguably, one of the most powerful people in the known universe. Glittering long lashes fluttered at the sight of the gathered dignitaries and the crowds of lower caste, though its gaze lingered on the elegant grassy walkway that led up to the High Placidum. She who saw into the very design of the scenery before her let out an air of satisfaction. If everything went according to plan, it would do much to diffuse the threat of escalated tensions. More importantly, her position with the Aurealus would be secured. After the fiasco with Consul Kaithirus' handling of the compromised safety of the trading routes, this could only see the turn of events shifting in her favour. It wasn't a selfish wish, of course, all she did was for the continued prosperity of her people.
Consul Varrinne Tretania extricated her lithe limbs from the divan and stood up as the Ark came to a gentle landing; the barely perceptible hum of its engines tuning down. As the consul stood, her flowery gown unravelled itself to the ground like a cascade of falling petals. With her dark hair fashioned into elaborate twists with the help of flowery vines and her unblemished smooth skin, the Consult cut a rather becoming figure and could easily pass for someone twice as young. Varrinne was a vision of pulchritude, though such physical perfection was hardly surprising given her stature within the Aurealate.
The doors of the transport hissed open and she was immediately greeted by the mildly warmer air and the stirring resonance of thousands of cheers. She stood on the precipice for a moment, a comely smile on her face before she began to descend the marble gangway. Immediately, a squad of Erinyes, elite paragon fighters of the Aurealate moved to flank on either side of Varrinne. Despite the tumultuous scene before her, it quickly faded into background noise as the Consul took notice at the trio of figures that stood polite before the ship, in an open clearing cordoned off by the enforcers. Her gaze fixed onto the centre of the trio, a clearly humanoid figure though one with no clear humanoid facial features. The Absynthian flourished a bow as she drew closer and extended a delicate hand for him to take.
"A vision of remarkable perfection as always, Consul." His voice had a synthetic tinge, but there was no lack of warmth in its timbre, very much unlike the Ancillae.
"Director Prelate Hin." She greeted him in kind, a broad smile on her face as they began walking, he leading the way. "I must apologize for my delay. You're the guest here in Andlang and yet you've arrived first."
"Ah, there is no trick to my expeditious presence my dear Consul. The embassador's quarters are within the compound as you know. I must admit, a half-hour ago I was still in bed!" The Absynthian let out an enigmatic robotic chuckle. "Besides, it is the lesser who should be in waiting."
"You flatter me too much, Director Hin." Varrinne let out a burst of tinkling laughter.
"It is not flattery if it's the truth, is it not?"
Varrinne only offered a smile in reply to her counterpart's statement. They continued at their stately pace through the gathered crowds, eventually ascending the steps that led into the High Placidum. The crowds continued their cheering, but unbeknownst to many, wolves in sheep's clothing lurked amidst the masses.
"The targets have arrived, begin Phase 1."
"This should be Gamma Blue's first major task, though it should be a pretty simple matter of overwatch. A good time as any to assess the capabilities of the team and the initiates." The small gathering of armour-clad neo-warriors was gathered around their senior member as she held the comms device in her hand. The pale blue holographic image of Observer Endronus stood on her palm, giving some last-minute briefing to the newly composed team.
"The summit between Consul Varrinne and Director Prelate Hin is prime time for trouble, but with the level of security from both the Aurealates and Absynthians, plus the deployment of Sigma Yellow and Delta Black the chances of one of those damned terrorists getting through should be nigh impossible." The usually chatty Observer appeared to be even more excitable than usual, Andarta noted with a mild measure of annoyance. "But don't let that keep your guard down, initiates. Observer Exonycus is watching closely, and cause for vigilance even in the calm. Monitor your Lucidators carefully, though potential Dreamers are the secondary objective. You're here to make sure nothing untoward happens, so let us make sure we keep it that way.... You have been given your roles... Andarta, I'm counting on you to get each of them across the line. We don't want to have to recalibrate anyone back to Eljudnir, trust me... it's incredibly tiring even for us Observers."
"Understood Observer." The platinum hair woman in industrial white armour saluted before disengaging the comms. Her low contralto tones was stern and her sapphire eyes shone with an intensity that would make many feel unsettled. Andarta was considered an exemplary model amongst her colleagues and was quickly becoming regarded as one of the best, despite her relatively lesser number of service years. Gamma Blue was nonetheless her first time being put into a leading role, and true to her spirit, she had taken up the challenge with an iron-hard grip. An Einherjar to the core, the woman cut an intimidating figure despite her lithe frame and white armour. It was as if one was looking at a carefully honed knife.
"You heard the Observer. It's a pretty straightforward task. Right after this, you may head to your designated positions.... Peitharchia and Woden, as discussed, you have the upper mezzanine levels. That should allow a good angle to provide overwatch into the crowds. The Consul and Director will speak on a raised platform just below you. Remember, there should be no other personale with you other than the assigned Absynthian Guard and Aurealian Enforcers. Take note that the squad of four from Sigma Yellow will be in the highest level above you, stay out of their way if you don't want to get shot. I don't want any complaints about newbies interfering with their work. Morrighan, Hades, Nergal... you're with me. We'll be on the ground. Report any suspicious activity immediately. Once they begin speaking, Morrighan you will station yourself at the stairs leading to the lower mezzanine levels. No one should be allowed to head up, it is where the Consul and Director will reside. As Observer Endronus mentioned, Delta Black will be stationed outside and will focus on any external threats."
They had all been briefed before, but Andarta wanted to be doubly sure. There should be no room for error. More importantly, she wanted to see if they could be more than just soldiers. Though sometimes working in teams, what set the Obsidian Hand of the Dreamwatchers apart from the other military sectors was their ability to function independently to complete any task.
"If you have any questions, ask now. Otherwise, you may head to your designated positions."
NOTE - The High Placidum can be visualized as an incredibly large dome-shaped hall. It has huge sweeping arches on the inside rising a hundred feet high. It is comprised roughly of several floors, clearly distinguished into four. The ground level where most of the delegates and crowds are gathered. The lower mezzanine balconies where the higher-level representatives are stationed. This is also where Consul Varrinne and Director Prelate Hin will be making their speech. Upper mezzanine balconies just above, and finally, the top level which is usually used for auxiliary staff and maintenance. The top-level should be completely cordoned off and no one else is there except a squad of 4 Einherjar, namely Sigma Yellow.
You do not have to begin your post at this point in time. Feel free to discuss what your character did the night before etc. etc. however you must end your post in the present time (pun intended). Assume that all of you have been acquainted with the team for at least a month prior, and done some basic training together.
If you're not sure on what's the extent you can describe the world setting and such etc. feel free to ask me! I would say I'm pretty lenient as long as it would not affect the current lore
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Observer Endronus[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
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The pristine white Ark class transport ship drifted languidly over the crowds of cheering people as it headed to a large resplendent building. It's swooping architecture lent the structure a very organic outlook. Coupled with the carefully manicured vertical lawns and trimmed arches of gold the High Placidum, as it was called, was a sight to behold. Elegantly faultless, a monument to the perfection of which a perfected race of humans could achieve. It dwarfed the decent-sized Ark Class starship that gently hovered to land on the open-air bay a respectable distance to its immaculate towering doors. In turn, the High Placidum was dwarfed by the even larger Arkology, a literal vertical city that loomed in the backdrop. The placidum was a place for important meetings, for matters that demanded maximum exposure. A meeting of powers.
A perfect place as any will be.
The crowds of regally dressed Aurealians could just make out the indolent silhouette of one who reclined just behind shimmering white doors. It was as if the semi-permeable design of the ship was meant to tease at the arrival of arguably, one of the most powerful people in the known universe. Glittering long lashes fluttered at the sight of the gathered dignitaries and the crowds of lower caste, though its gaze lingered on the elegant grassy walkway that led up to the High Placidum. She who saw into the very design of the scenery before her let out an air of satisfaction. If everything went according to plan, it would do much to diffuse the threat of escalated tensions. More importantly, her position with the Aurealus would be secured. After the fiasco with Consul Kaithirus' handling of the compromised safety of the trading routes, this could only see the turn of events shifting in her favour. It wasn't a selfish wish, of course, all she did was for the continued prosperity of her people.
Consul Varrinne Tretania extricated her lithe limbs from the divan and stood up as the Ark came to a gentle landing; the barely perceptible hum of its engines tuning down. As the consul stood, her flowery gown unravelled itself to the ground like a cascade of falling petals. With her dark hair fashioned into elaborate twists with the help of flowery vines and her unblemished smooth skin, the Consult cut a rather becoming figure and could easily pass for someone twice as young. Varrinne was a vision of pulchritude, though such physical perfection was hardly surprising given her stature within the Aurealate.
"A vision of remarkable perfection as always, Consul." His voice had a synthetic tinge, but there was no lack of warmth in its timbre, very much unlike the Ancillae.
"Ah, there is no trick to my expeditious presence my dear Consul. The embassador's quarters are within the compound as you know. I must admit, a half-hour ago I was still in bed!" The Absynthian let out an enigmatic robotic chuckle. "Besides, it is the lesser who should be in waiting."
"You flatter me too much, Director Hin." Varrinne let out a burst of tinkling laughter.
"It is not flattery if it's the truth, is it not?"
Varrinne only offered a smile in reply to her counterpart's statement. They continued at their stately pace through the gathered crowds, eventually ascending the steps that led into the High Placidum. The crowds continued their cheering, but unbeknownst to many, wolves in sheep's clothing lurked amidst the masses.
"The targets have arrived, begin Phase 1."
❖ ❖ ❖
"This should be Gamma Blue's first major task, though it should be a pretty simple matter of overwatch. A good time as any to assess the capabilities of the team and the initiates." The small gathering of armour-clad neo-warriors was gathered around their senior member as she held the comms device in her hand. The pale blue holographic image of Observer Endronus stood on her palm, giving some last-minute briefing to the newly composed team.
"The summit between Consul Varrinne and Director Prelate Hin is prime time for trouble, but with the level of security from both the Aurealates and Absynthians, plus the deployment of Sigma Yellow and Delta Black the chances of one of those damned terrorists getting through should be nigh impossible." The usually chatty Observer appeared to be even more excitable than usual, Andarta noted with a mild measure of annoyance. "But don't let that keep your guard down, initiates. Observer Exonycus is watching closely, and cause for vigilance even in the calm. Monitor your Lucidators carefully, though potential Dreamers are the secondary objective. You're here to make sure nothing untoward happens, so let us make sure we keep it that way.... You have been given your roles... Andarta, I'm counting on you to get each of them across the line. We don't want to have to recalibrate anyone back to Eljudnir, trust me... it's incredibly tiring even for us Observers."
"Understood Observer." The platinum hair woman in industrial white armour saluted before disengaging the comms. Her low contralto tones was stern and her sapphire eyes shone with an intensity that would make many feel unsettled. Andarta was considered an exemplary model amongst her colleagues and was quickly becoming regarded as one of the best, despite her relatively lesser number of service years. Gamma Blue was nonetheless her first time being put into a leading role, and true to her spirit, she had taken up the challenge with an iron-hard grip. An Einherjar to the core, the woman cut an intimidating figure despite her lithe frame and white armour. It was as if one was looking at a carefully honed knife.
"You heard the Observer. It's a pretty straightforward task. Right after this, you may head to your designated positions.... Peitharchia and Woden, as discussed, you have the upper mezzanine levels. That should allow a good angle to provide overwatch into the crowds. The Consul and Director will speak on a raised platform just below you. Remember, there should be no other personale with you other than the assigned Absynthian Guard and Aurealian Enforcers. Take note that the squad of four from Sigma Yellow will be in the highest level above you, stay out of their way if you don't want to get shot. I don't want any complaints about newbies interfering with their work. Morrighan, Hades, Nergal... you're with me. We'll be on the ground. Report any suspicious activity immediately. Once they begin speaking, Morrighan you will station yourself at the stairs leading to the lower mezzanine levels. No one should be allowed to head up, it is where the Consul and Director will reside. As Observer Endronus mentioned, Delta Black will be stationed outside and will focus on any external threats."
They had all been briefed before, but Andarta wanted to be doubly sure. There should be no room for error. More importantly, she wanted to see if they could be more than just soldiers. Though sometimes working in teams, what set the Obsidian Hand of the Dreamwatchers apart from the other military sectors was their ability to function independently to complete any task.
"If you have any questions, ask now. Otherwise, you may head to your designated positions."
❖ ❖ ❖
NOTE - The High Placidum can be visualized as an incredibly large dome-shaped hall. It has huge sweeping arches on the inside rising a hundred feet high. It is comprised roughly of several floors, clearly distinguished into four. The ground level where most of the delegates and crowds are gathered. The lower mezzanine balconies where the higher-level representatives are stationed. This is also where Consul Varrinne and Director Prelate Hin will be making their speech. Upper mezzanine balconies just above, and finally, the top level which is usually used for auxiliary staff and maintenance. The top-level should be completely cordoned off and no one else is there except a squad of 4 Einherjar, namely Sigma Yellow.
You do not have to begin your post at this point in time. Feel free to discuss what your character did the night before etc. etc. however you must end your post in the present time (pun intended). Assume that all of you have been acquainted with the team for at least a month prior, and done some basic training together.
If you're not sure on what's the extent you can describe the world setting and such etc. feel free to ask me! I would say I'm pretty lenient as long as it would not affect the current lore
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Foster
Inheritor
Fletcher had sat through both his superiors pre-mission speeches in silence, the dull red glow of his visor directed solely on them as he attempted to squeeze every last drop of detail from their briefing. He’d heard it all before of course. No Einherjar squad deployed half-cocked, not even this batch of greenhorns. But nerves were playing havoc on Fletcher despite the hours he’d already spent running through today in his head, a fact he was doing his utmost to hide. The armour was helping on that front, a personal fortress concealing the anxiousness his eyes betrayed. Of course out here in the High Placidium that was about all it was hiding, the verdant green layers of webbing that had been so carefully selected to provide Fletcher with camouflage whilst sniping were next to useless against this luxurious backdrop. That wasn’t what was disturbing clouds of butterflies in his stomach though, no that lay within the fact that this theoretically simple overwatch mission was the culmination of years of training, one that could make or break his future as an Einherjar. Not to mention the political nightmare that would unfold if this all went tits up, bringing an already weak alliance ever closer to its breaking point. No pressure.
Upon Andarta giving them a chance to head to their respective posts Fletcher gave her a curt nod before gesturing for Peitharchia to follow as he began to make his way to the upper mezzanine levels. An odd one their leader, he’d been struggling to get a read on her so far. With her white armour and cold yet deadly demeanor she was a startlingly good personification of ice itself. She made for an excellent colleague but Fletcher doubted she was the kind of woman he’d end up playing cards with. Playing with the strap on his sniper rifle a little the young Einherjar glanced back at Peitharchia to establish that the recombinant had actually followed him. Usually Fletcher would simply listen for the sound of his teammates footsteps to establish they were in tow but over the general hum of the crowd that had proven too difficult. Looking at the somewhat effeminate medic of Gamma Blue he found himself glad to have been paired up with one of the less... intense, members of their unit. When you spend as much time on the abysmally dreary world of Eljudnir as your average Einherjar it’s important to find those you can share a laugh with. The sniper’s eyes snapped forward as he cursed himself, this was hardly the time to be thinking about aimless chatter. Still as the pair of them arrived at their destination just above the level on which Consul Varrine and Director Prelate Hin would be conducting business Fletcher found himself reasoning that a little bit of chatter might ease his restless mind. And with the vastly more experienced Sigma Yellow stationed right above them it was likely he was worrying himself more than necessary.
“You reckon these guys even know the meaning of the world subtle?” He grunted to Peitharchia, his English accent coming through as strong as ever. The mocking tone in his voice was validated by the sheer size of the building they were standing in as well as the throngs of people they could see from their lofty perch. Plenty of places for something to go wrong in a crowd that size. Before speaking he’d made sure that his words weren’t being broadcasted to the rest of Gamma Blue, no need to distract them after all. Instead of simply waiting for a response he busied himself scanning the High Placidium for points of interest, anywhere he himself might hide was he to plan an ambush here. A patch of shadows, an isolated vantage point, anything of that nature. Soon enough he’d marked several areas on his HUD with waypoints. Just a precautionary measure that he’d gotten into the habit of doing when he found himself in a situation such as this. With nothing more to do than wait Fletcher forced himself to take a deep breath, unaware that he was subconsciously playing with his rifle strap again.
Mentions:
Lekiel
BLK
Upon Andarta giving them a chance to head to their respective posts Fletcher gave her a curt nod before gesturing for Peitharchia to follow as he began to make his way to the upper mezzanine levels. An odd one their leader, he’d been struggling to get a read on her so far. With her white armour and cold yet deadly demeanor she was a startlingly good personification of ice itself. She made for an excellent colleague but Fletcher doubted she was the kind of woman he’d end up playing cards with. Playing with the strap on his sniper rifle a little the young Einherjar glanced back at Peitharchia to establish that the recombinant had actually followed him. Usually Fletcher would simply listen for the sound of his teammates footsteps to establish they were in tow but over the general hum of the crowd that had proven too difficult. Looking at the somewhat effeminate medic of Gamma Blue he found himself glad to have been paired up with one of the less... intense, members of their unit. When you spend as much time on the abysmally dreary world of Eljudnir as your average Einherjar it’s important to find those you can share a laugh with. The sniper’s eyes snapped forward as he cursed himself, this was hardly the time to be thinking about aimless chatter. Still as the pair of them arrived at their destination just above the level on which Consul Varrine and Director Prelate Hin would be conducting business Fletcher found himself reasoning that a little bit of chatter might ease his restless mind. And with the vastly more experienced Sigma Yellow stationed right above them it was likely he was worrying himself more than necessary.
“You reckon these guys even know the meaning of the world subtle?” He grunted to Peitharchia, his English accent coming through as strong as ever. The mocking tone in his voice was validated by the sheer size of the building they were standing in as well as the throngs of people they could see from their lofty perch. Plenty of places for something to go wrong in a crowd that size. Before speaking he’d made sure that his words weren’t being broadcasted to the rest of Gamma Blue, no need to distract them after all. Instead of simply waiting for a response he busied himself scanning the High Placidium for points of interest, anywhere he himself might hide was he to plan an ambush here. A patch of shadows, an isolated vantage point, anything of that nature. Soon enough he’d marked several areas on his HUD with waypoints. Just a precautionary measure that he’d gotten into the habit of doing when he found himself in a situation such as this. With nothing more to do than wait Fletcher forced himself to take a deep breath, unaware that he was subconsciously playing with his rifle strap again.
Mentions:
Lekiel
BLK
Last edited:
revior
The Iseguy
Hades
For the third time since they landed, he yawned. Hades, the large man with a curved sword slung on his back, was sleep-deprived. He didn't sleep a wink at all the night prior. Was he anxious for this oh-so-important mission that he was going to undertake? Not in particular. Was he worried for the future of mankind should this meeting go south? He really couldn't care less. In truth, he was marathoning some old show he found in the archives. He never did got to know the ending and he just had to find out. he wouldn't be able to sleep until he does. Well, the end result was that he never got any sleep anyways and he wished he never saw the ending. It's surprising how a bad finale can ruin a decent show.
"Big day, huh?" Hades commented as he winced at the loud cheers from the crowd. "I hope something exciting happens."
Lazily, he stretched his limbs as Andarta assigned the roles they would each play in the mission. He was hardly tense, there was not a single sense of tension in his being. It didn't matter to him, how this was going to turn out. The dead has little care for the matters of the living, and as far as Hades was concerned, he was dead, a ghost that just happened to be washed up on the wrong side of the shore. That being said, it's not as if he minded being on this side, not that he minded much of anything at all. Being dead, life was but a dream to him, a dream he had once woken up from, a dream that he ended up having once more, a long and pointless dream.
Let's see here, Hades began to take notes, Woden and Peitharchia are going up top and I am stuck here on the ground with Morrighan, Nergal, and the captain. Morrighans going to guard the stairs which leaves...
"Man, why do I get the scary ones..." Hades muttered as he hung his head.
"Cap'n, permission to hang by the stairs with Lil' Morri in case she needs backup?" He then said to Andarta, flashing a big silly grin as if that would help him gain approval.
Lekiel
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Confirmed Memelord
"You'll be heading offworld then?"
The question posed within the context of the conversation at hand wasn't really a question. Much less was the prolonged quiet between them any kind of conversation. It was an affirmation. A slender bridge spanning one silence to the next. It certainly didn't need an answer. Intelligent as Nikhil was, and forthcoming as Nergal had been about her plans, the exercise bordered on pointless.
Naturally, good manners overrode Nergal's mild exhaustion stemming from the whole thing. It would have been astoundingly impolite to leave the man's question hanging in the air unacknowledged. Especially when taking into consideration how often Nergal lied to the bespectacled man.
She shrugged, despite the fact that he was too absorbed by his notes to have seen it. Nergal, having occupied herself with staring out of the floor to ceiling windows of his cluttered office and into the equally cluttered streets of the Urban sprawl that lay at her feet let her eyes flickered briefly to the ghostly image Nikhil's reflection in the rain streaked glass and frowned. The reedy man's figure stooped over his desk so far that his nose was practically touching the data-pad in front of him. His work nearly always consumed him. Often he at least had the presence of mind to act the part of host, but he'd been absorbed with his work more than was usual even for him recently.
"Yes." She said a little too curtly. "I'm leaving on business." The words were delivered almost halfheartedly, as Nergal struggled to understand why he'd bother to engage with her at all if he clearly wasn't paying attention.
"Business... Would you care to illuminate me on its nature?"
Nikhil's question, propelled by the audacity that gave it voice was not an unexpected one. The man was a collector of knowledge, both profound and mundane, and on Aaru few things sold so well as another person's secrets. Nergal of course had more secrets than she cared to discuss openly. Especially with a man that could be bought so easily. She frowned, only fighting back the urge to scoff on the basis that Nikhil was most assuredly trying to get a rise out of her. He knew better.
"The exact nature of my buisness is very much none of yours, Mr. Bhattacharya." She sniped.
He chuckled softly and finally deigned to look at her. His eyes shone cearly with mirth behind his glasses, but it wasn't the personable sort. Nikhil knew too much, and always far more than Nergal. He knew that too, and it amused him almost as much as it pissed her off. Nergal could live with the fact that people smarter than her existed. It was a given and undeniable fact, and she owed a hell of a lot to people with more brain cells than she'd ever have. Killing intent, usually evened the odds between the intelligent and the slightly less so. But Nikhil had plenty of that too. A man didn't dodge the shuffling ranks of the Lazarus Legion if he was unwilling to send someone else in his place.
Tense as their song and dance was, Nergal knew how unremarkable it really was. The same farce of a conversation was happening somewhere, everywhere on Aaru. In offices, in back alleys. In clubs of varying repute. In the most expensive of restaurants, and at the most humble of food carts. Aaru was a hive of illegality and home of the countless dead. It was the place to do business both good and bad. One could leave for a time, but somehow they'd always come crawling back. Often permanently.
"You are a remarkably cold woman." Nikhil replied easily as he eyed her with the probing intensity that only an Information Broker could. Nergal snorted then, a low derisive sounding thing,
"There are colder. You'd know that if you would ever bother to leave this office." He shrugged mildly and the smile on his face fell off. "Perhaps, yes. It's just that I had a few leads for you, but now you're leaving so..." He shrugged again, and Nergal turned fully to face him. The rain streaked glass no longer holding any interest for her. All that there was to see was miles of city blocks forested by skyscrapers while people scuttled through the wet streets like ants. It was undoubtedly more of the same all over the world. There was no point in partaking of unremarkable.
"What? You're going to miss your favorite rat? Is that it?" Nergal managed to smile through her habitual sneer at Nikhil. It was just ugly enough and just earnest enough to let the man know that there were no underlying motives to her question. Nikhil laughed softly, but honestly, or at least as honestly as Nergal had ever heard before. She could not tell. Nikhil only revealed other people's secrets. Never his own.
"Rat? No, no. You musn't sell yourself short like that. Rats are prey. Cunning, yes. Survivors, yes. But they are prey nonetheless. You, Madame." He paused briefly to punctuate his statement with a finger pointed right at her. "You are a snake. A Viper. Quick, deadly, and devoid of warmth. You catch prey, you don't become it."
Nergal feigned mild surprise, placing a gloved hand to her chest. "I'm touched. I don't think you've ever said anything so kind to me in all the time that I've known you."'
"Actions are kind,and words merely a pretty ribbon on top. The greatest kindness I've ever shown you was not pulling the trigger when you stepped into my office for the first time." He replied brusquely, and Nergal clucked her tongue at his suddenly harsh demeanor.
"I stand corrected then. As always in your presence." Nergal shrugged her jacket on, intent on leaving before she was drawn into a prolonged verbal joust with the man. They had those far too often, and they would run on for far too long. She had a shuttle to catch,
"But knowing as much as you do, you can spot a snake in the grass from a mile off, cant you?" Nikhil hummed in mild consideration, not bothering to watch as she strode towards the door and resumed staring at his notes.
"Who better to spot a snake than another snake?" He began, "Oh and Victoria?" Nergal pursed, halfway out the door at the sound of her false name. A made up identity made her work much easier, but like so much else Nikhil had to have known it was a fake one. Not that it mattered much. All that Nergal cared for was that he never found out WHAT was hiding behind that name.
She quirked a'brow at the man, though as before the gesture was wasted with Nikhil's eyes glued to his notes.
"From one snake to another, be careful out there. You're valuable, but not so much that I'd waste the money to bring you back. Don't get yourself killed."
She truly had to bite back a laugh then, and only made a noise of affirmation: before closing the door behind her.
"A snake indeed." She thought while beelining straight for the elevator. The ride down to the ground floor was a quick affair, and hailing a transport to the station was even quicker. The driver, thankfully didn't talk much and Nergal idly wondered if it was through personal preference or if death had stolen his social graces. She wouldn't go so far as to call herself an expert on the matter, but death, and something bordering on it had ways of changing a person.
Nergal settled in for the first of many rides to her destination. It wouldn't be a simple as making a single jump for her. She'd have to suffer the song and dance of shuffling between multiple transports to avoid being tailed. One could never be too careful doing buisness on Aaru. Especially when they were aan Einherjar. Nergal supposed that in another time and place, faintly recalled if she tried hard enough to, that she might have slept during such a journey. That time had long since passed and unlike her it was assuredly dead. At present sleep held nothing of value for her. It hadn't for a long time.
There wasn't much that Nergal found to be grateful for. Playing Watch Dog at a summit definitely didn't make the list. Along with, in no particular order; suffering through another damn briefing, sharing the stage with two other squads, being forced to look at whatever the fuck the High Placidium was supposed to be, and the consideration that she might be getting shot at. Again.
Nergal was profoundly grateful for however, the inch and a half of carbon steel and plasticine barrier that shielded her face and eyes.
Looking at Andarta wasn't normally offensive to her.The younger woman was talented, dedicated and possessed by an intense efficiency that Nergal respected a great deal. Unfortunately in keeping with her frigid austerity, Andarta had decked herself out from head to toe in polished white chrome.
It was hell.
Nergal knew that she'd have been rendered blind were it not for the visor shielding her eyes. There was no telling what would have happened if she'd been hung over and forced to take in the sight of their Commander acting the part of a small, angry, sun. Death would have been a mercy then, but only if it were of the permanent variety.
She supposed then that it was a good thing she wasn't hungover. Nergal was profoundly ill-tempered at her best then. But that was better than when she was drunk. Then she was just...Very, very weird. And it was because of that weirdness that Nergal limited her intake.
Normally, a visit to somewhere as disgustingly opulent as the High Placidium was marked by an open bar and things more entertaining than peace talks. Not that Nergal minded peace. Open warfare was a hassle, being shot was unenjoyable and ultimately the whole thing was unprofitable. The threat of war and the paranoia that stemmed from its probability was where the money was. The real thing she could do without. And so it was probably a good thing that they were all there. If hell didn't break loose, and nobody got assassinated. they were one step closer to stability.
The curt mention of her name drew Nergal's gaze to Andarta and she fought back the instinctive need to squint.
"Of course, Captain." She replied evenly. There were worse people to get stuck with, she mused silently,though Hades, ever impetuous didn't quite feel the same way. He was fortunately just charming enough in his own careless way that Nergal didn't take much offense to his words. The idea of him traipsing off with Morrighan to guard a staircase however, wasn't taken quite as well.
"Oh no, no, no. You should stay here. I like having something broad to take cover behind when the shooting starts."
The question posed within the context of the conversation at hand wasn't really a question. Much less was the prolonged quiet between them any kind of conversation. It was an affirmation. A slender bridge spanning one silence to the next. It certainly didn't need an answer. Intelligent as Nikhil was, and forthcoming as Nergal had been about her plans, the exercise bordered on pointless.
Naturally, good manners overrode Nergal's mild exhaustion stemming from the whole thing. It would have been astoundingly impolite to leave the man's question hanging in the air unacknowledged. Especially when taking into consideration how often Nergal lied to the bespectacled man.
She shrugged, despite the fact that he was too absorbed by his notes to have seen it. Nergal, having occupied herself with staring out of the floor to ceiling windows of his cluttered office and into the equally cluttered streets of the Urban sprawl that lay at her feet let her eyes flickered briefly to the ghostly image Nikhil's reflection in the rain streaked glass and frowned. The reedy man's figure stooped over his desk so far that his nose was practically touching the data-pad in front of him. His work nearly always consumed him. Often he at least had the presence of mind to act the part of host, but he'd been absorbed with his work more than was usual even for him recently.
"Yes." She said a little too curtly. "I'm leaving on business." The words were delivered almost halfheartedly, as Nergal struggled to understand why he'd bother to engage with her at all if he clearly wasn't paying attention.
"Business... Would you care to illuminate me on its nature?"
Nikhil's question, propelled by the audacity that gave it voice was not an unexpected one. The man was a collector of knowledge, both profound and mundane, and on Aaru few things sold so well as another person's secrets. Nergal of course had more secrets than she cared to discuss openly. Especially with a man that could be bought so easily. She frowned, only fighting back the urge to scoff on the basis that Nikhil was most assuredly trying to get a rise out of her. He knew better.
"The exact nature of my buisness is very much none of yours, Mr. Bhattacharya." She sniped.
He chuckled softly and finally deigned to look at her. His eyes shone cearly with mirth behind his glasses, but it wasn't the personable sort. Nikhil knew too much, and always far more than Nergal. He knew that too, and it amused him almost as much as it pissed her off. Nergal could live with the fact that people smarter than her existed. It was a given and undeniable fact, and she owed a hell of a lot to people with more brain cells than she'd ever have. Killing intent, usually evened the odds between the intelligent and the slightly less so. But Nikhil had plenty of that too. A man didn't dodge the shuffling ranks of the Lazarus Legion if he was unwilling to send someone else in his place.
Tense as their song and dance was, Nergal knew how unremarkable it really was. The same farce of a conversation was happening somewhere, everywhere on Aaru. In offices, in back alleys. In clubs of varying repute. In the most expensive of restaurants, and at the most humble of food carts. Aaru was a hive of illegality and home of the countless dead. It was the place to do business both good and bad. One could leave for a time, but somehow they'd always come crawling back. Often permanently.
"You are a remarkably cold woman." Nikhil replied easily as he eyed her with the probing intensity that only an Information Broker could. Nergal snorted then, a low derisive sounding thing,
"There are colder. You'd know that if you would ever bother to leave this office." He shrugged mildly and the smile on his face fell off. "Perhaps, yes. It's just that I had a few leads for you, but now you're leaving so..." He shrugged again, and Nergal turned fully to face him. The rain streaked glass no longer holding any interest for her. All that there was to see was miles of city blocks forested by skyscrapers while people scuttled through the wet streets like ants. It was undoubtedly more of the same all over the world. There was no point in partaking of unremarkable.
"What? You're going to miss your favorite rat? Is that it?" Nergal managed to smile through her habitual sneer at Nikhil. It was just ugly enough and just earnest enough to let the man know that there were no underlying motives to her question. Nikhil laughed softly, but honestly, or at least as honestly as Nergal had ever heard before. She could not tell. Nikhil only revealed other people's secrets. Never his own.
"Rat? No, no. You musn't sell yourself short like that. Rats are prey. Cunning, yes. Survivors, yes. But they are prey nonetheless. You, Madame." He paused briefly to punctuate his statement with a finger pointed right at her. "You are a snake. A Viper. Quick, deadly, and devoid of warmth. You catch prey, you don't become it."
Nergal feigned mild surprise, placing a gloved hand to her chest. "I'm touched. I don't think you've ever said anything so kind to me in all the time that I've known you."'
"Actions are kind,and words merely a pretty ribbon on top. The greatest kindness I've ever shown you was not pulling the trigger when you stepped into my office for the first time." He replied brusquely, and Nergal clucked her tongue at his suddenly harsh demeanor.
"I stand corrected then. As always in your presence." Nergal shrugged her jacket on, intent on leaving before she was drawn into a prolonged verbal joust with the man. They had those far too often, and they would run on for far too long. She had a shuttle to catch,
"But knowing as much as you do, you can spot a snake in the grass from a mile off, cant you?" Nikhil hummed in mild consideration, not bothering to watch as she strode towards the door and resumed staring at his notes.
"Who better to spot a snake than another snake?" He began, "Oh and Victoria?" Nergal pursed, halfway out the door at the sound of her false name. A made up identity made her work much easier, but like so much else Nikhil had to have known it was a fake one. Not that it mattered much. All that Nergal cared for was that he never found out WHAT was hiding behind that name.
She quirked a'brow at the man, though as before the gesture was wasted with Nikhil's eyes glued to his notes.
"From one snake to another, be careful out there. You're valuable, but not so much that I'd waste the money to bring you back. Don't get yourself killed."
She truly had to bite back a laugh then, and only made a noise of affirmation: before closing the door behind her.
"A snake indeed." She thought while beelining straight for the elevator. The ride down to the ground floor was a quick affair, and hailing a transport to the station was even quicker. The driver, thankfully didn't talk much and Nergal idly wondered if it was through personal preference or if death had stolen his social graces. She wouldn't go so far as to call herself an expert on the matter, but death, and something bordering on it had ways of changing a person.
Nergal settled in for the first of many rides to her destination. It wouldn't be a simple as making a single jump for her. She'd have to suffer the song and dance of shuffling between multiple transports to avoid being tailed. One could never be too careful doing buisness on Aaru. Especially when they were aan Einherjar. Nergal supposed that in another time and place, faintly recalled if she tried hard enough to, that she might have slept during such a journey. That time had long since passed and unlike her it was assuredly dead. At present sleep held nothing of value for her. It hadn't for a long time.
There wasn't much that Nergal found to be grateful for. Playing Watch Dog at a summit definitely didn't make the list. Along with, in no particular order; suffering through another damn briefing, sharing the stage with two other squads, being forced to look at whatever the fuck the High Placidium was supposed to be, and the consideration that she might be getting shot at. Again.
Nergal was profoundly grateful for however, the inch and a half of carbon steel and plasticine barrier that shielded her face and eyes.
Looking at Andarta wasn't normally offensive to her.The younger woman was talented, dedicated and possessed by an intense efficiency that Nergal respected a great deal. Unfortunately in keeping with her frigid austerity, Andarta had decked herself out from head to toe in polished white chrome.
It was hell.
Nergal knew that she'd have been rendered blind were it not for the visor shielding her eyes. There was no telling what would have happened if she'd been hung over and forced to take in the sight of their Commander acting the part of a small, angry, sun. Death would have been a mercy then, but only if it were of the permanent variety.
She supposed then that it was a good thing she wasn't hungover. Nergal was profoundly ill-tempered at her best then. But that was better than when she was drunk. Then she was just...Very, very weird. And it was because of that weirdness that Nergal limited her intake.
Normally, a visit to somewhere as disgustingly opulent as the High Placidium was marked by an open bar and things more entertaining than peace talks. Not that Nergal minded peace. Open warfare was a hassle, being shot was unenjoyable and ultimately the whole thing was unprofitable. The threat of war and the paranoia that stemmed from its probability was where the money was. The real thing she could do without. And so it was probably a good thing that they were all there. If hell didn't break loose, and nobody got assassinated. they were one step closer to stability.
The curt mention of her name drew Nergal's gaze to Andarta and she fought back the instinctive need to squint.
"Of course, Captain." She replied evenly. There were worse people to get stuck with, she mused silently,though Hades, ever impetuous didn't quite feel the same way. He was fortunately just charming enough in his own careless way that Nergal didn't take much offense to his words. The idea of him traipsing off with Morrighan to guard a staircase however, wasn't taken quite as well.
"Oh no, no, no. You should stay here. I like having something broad to take cover behind when the shooting starts."
InsaneAsylum
The Chocobo Champion
The Morrighan
“Who the hell are you, Morrighan?”
“Who the hell are you, Morrighan?”
Two pairs of red eyes gazed deep into one another for a few long moments, before critically examining the faces they were attached to. The fair nearly pale skin had little to no blemishes. The only blemish being a little red bump just below her cheekbone. Morrighan leaned forward over the metal sink, the two faces drawing closer and closer as Morrighan debated whether or not the little blemish was worth hiding. Of course, Morrighan was quick to realize she’d have her armor on, and no one would have the luxury of drawing do close to her regardless. She was worrying too much.
Before preparing a mission, taking the extra time to make sure she was presentable was her ritual. One never knew when the bright lights and cameras may be shone on them. When they shined on Morrighan, she would be prepared. Being around so many people for a mission was her chance to shine, and prove to those dreamcatching people above her that she was more than just some struggling initiate. She was what would one day be the best Einherjar they had ever seen.
Unfortunately, Morrighan knew she hadn't done much to prove this to be true yet. She actually had a bad reputation so far for her consistency on the field. It wasn't for a lack of trying however, as Morrighan did excellent during her training. It was just when it came to functioning on the field, she always managed to make glaring mistakes too large to ignore. On the upcoming mission, such a mistake couldn’t be afforded.
--------------------
Morrighan hadn’t realized just how big of a crowd would be present today. They were so incredibly loud that it took all of her focus just to on the briefing again. However, she still couldn’t quite listen with so many other things buzzing through her head. The first was her commanders dazzling white suit. It would blend in well with the ship that had landed earlier, but draw a lot of attention anyway else Morrighan thought to herself. Of course, Morrighan assumed Commander was simply trying to take all the attention for herself. Morrighan’s eyes furrowed, before suddenly hearing her name said. She would be stationed by the stairs to not allow anyone to go up them. It sounded easy enough, mainly since it was unlikely anyone would get that far. At least she’d be alone and able to take all the credit for stopping a terrorist. Morrighan couldn’t help but smile slightly behind her visor. This mission seemed boring, but had such potential to kickstart her rise to the top! It was too bad Hades once again tried to take a bite out of her dreams, asking if he could be on the stairs with her.
“Um... no? Stay in the crowds where you will be out of my way. I don’t want to be distracted. Nergal and the Commander will no doubt need your assistance after all!”
The second thing soaring through the Galvode’s head was how she would protect the stairs. There would probably be people nearby, so she couldn’t just aim her rifle at everyone that passed by. Perhaps taking a less obvious approach would be better... but it wasn’t as if some lowly terrorist could take her down with a surprise attack. There was no reason to hide.
tall and proud on the stairs was surely the best option!
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
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A Duty You Can't Refuse
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Persona[/div][div class=barText]Orochi, Andarta[/div][/div]
[div class=bar][div class=title]Promina NPC[/div][div class=barText]Consul Varrinne, Director Prelate Hin,
Orochi, Andlang Control (GM-able AI)[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
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Positional Post - This is a Positional Post. It will include directional cues for each of you to steer your character towards as you make your post. This includes, but is not limited to, points or objects of interest. You may continue to post as per normal, however by the end of it, you must pick one of the given cues as the results of your actions will influence how a future scene unfolds. If not enough description is given, you may add to your own within reason; as in the case of environmental objects or non-major NPCs. If you'd like to add something and you are unsure if it'll pass, feel free to contact me Multiple people can pick the same option which will also affect future outcomes.
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Not for the first time in the last couple of months, Andarta lamented her latest assignment. In all her years of service, she'd proven herself incredibly effective as an individual at performing her duties. She'd also been part of a team, placed among the best. But she rued the day that Prime Observer Amiela had suddenly got the jump on her, assigning her to lead a bunch of quite possibly inept initiates. She didn't know why they saw a need to establish a new squad, or why they thought she'd make an effective leader. Regardless, in true Andarta fashion, she accepted the task with stoic severity.
It was probably her toughest assignment yet, if not in terms of her ability to complete it then at least in breaking the ice queen's frigid exterior. If there were anything that would've made her let out bouts of frustration and quite possibly crack her dispassionate facade it was surely--
"Cap'n, permission to hang by the stairs with Lil' Morri in case she needs backup?" Her greatest anathema thus far spoke up.
Yep, a certain god of the damned. The observers must've screwed up their naming process somewhere. She was doubly certain whatever ancient civilization that named their god of the dead Hades would be sorely disappointed their ominous deity was now represented by a part-timing clown.
She didn't immediately reply, allowing Nergal's witty retort and then Morrighan to state her own answer. Finally, she trained her icy irises onto the errant initiate making sure he was looking directly at her still visorless face.
"Do what you wish Hades. But I will personally recalibrate you if your actions jeopardizes the mission." The senior Einherjar replied cooly, though whether or not she would truly go-ahead and perform the enforced reset remains to be seen. Her hawklike gaze lingered on Hades a second longer than necessary before she looked away and headed towards the exit of their meeting room, her visor hissed into place completing the seal of her armour. She tapped into the squad comms for one final address to the team.
"The summit will begin very soon. Make sure you're all connected to the Andlang HQ's safe channel alpha-two-four-five-five-gamma at all times. Set connection status to Variable Array." Andarta's eyes flickered over her visor's HUD, watching the blinking notifications of her team connecting to the secure Einherjar channel. When they had all done so, she made her report.
"Andlang control, this is Andarta. Gamma Blue in position."
"Gamma Blue, status received." A cold androgynous voice acknowledged.
"`Bout time the Newbies showed up." A cocky self-assured drawl slurred over the comms, grating on her nerves. It was the leader of Sigma Yellow.
"Stay in your loft Orochi." Andarta replied, her gaze shifting upwards into the impossibly high ceiling of the High Placidum. Her visor focusing on a particular individual beside a catwalk in yellow trimmed obsidian armour.
"Just keep the precious younglings out of our way and we're good." Her visor's inbuilt telescopic vision was meagre, but it was just enough to catch the armoured figure point down at her and mimic firing a shot. Andarta let out an air of amusement, before heading down to the ground level.
The arrival of the Consul was marked by a crescendo in the chatter of the crowds. Her dazzling flower-themed raiment scintillated in the shafts of natural lighting that cascaded in radiant sheets through the expansive architecture of the High Placidum. A rising political force, the crowds roared with cheers as Consul Varrinne Tretania stepped out into seemingly thin air up in the empty space at the centre of the Lower Mezzanine level. Her footsteps were composed, as singular hexagonal tiles lit up beneath her feet, suspending her in dizzying heights over those gathered below.
Consul Varrinne raised an elegant hand and the cheers quietened into the hushed silence of stray whispers and awed gasps. The vision of beauty and power smiled at the crowds, about to begin her address.
POSITIONAL POSTING - Peitharchia, Woden.
1. The High Placidum's structure is incredibly impressive. Tall arching columns hold a massive domed ceiling, each gargantuan pillar of pristine white alloy shaped like the branching arms of large trees, fluidly blending into the overall structure, making the inside of the High Placidum appear to be carved out of a singular object; as opposed to a building comprised of conjoined parts. Your eyes would marvel at the surrounding place, ignoring the events below. You might perhaps even try to spy out the hidden forms of Sigma Yellow above you. Make your post as usual, but end it in this direction if it is your choice.
2. High up in the Upper Mezzanine level, the crowds appear to you as a shifting mass of tiny figures. The division of castes and social ranks clearly distinguished from the ordered seats to the cordoned sections of the general public. This summit must surely be the largest formal address in quite a while, as seen from the thousands of people gathered. As Consul Varrinne steps out to begin her address, you marvel at her calm composure, suspended so far above the crowds walking on nothing but a single wide tile to step on.
POSITIONAL POSTING - Nergal, Morrighan, Hades.
1. Higher Access. The entrance to the Lower Mezzanine levels is guarded on both sides by Aurelian royal guards and the robotic-looking Absynthian Watch. The crowds are kept a respectable distance away from the entrance and given the fact that most appeared to be of the upper echelon's of society the surrounding area is much more subdued. Though an important one, this summit is borne on the backs of rising tensions between arguably two of the most powerful worlds. The pressure to work together is strenuous at best. Perhaps you might want to keep a closer look on the guards from both nations? Or perhaps train your eye into the public masses?
2. Utility Stairwell. The ground level is filled by crowds of people, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. An inconspicuous doorway sits along the western edge of the High Placidum, its smooth surface nigh camouflaged into the stony walls. There are fewer guards in this section though the crowds have been kept a respectable distance from the door. Additionally, you know that the door only responds to Aurelian guards and Einherjar touch. The set of stairs leading to the utility stairwell provides a better vantage point to look into the masses. Should you move up the steps to focus at the crowds? Or mayhap you might want to take a peek into the hidden utility area?
3. Plebeian Rush. Throngs of common-folk crowd the ground level, making it exceptionally difficult to move quickly without roughing a few shoulders. Nevertheless, having someone in the immediate vicinity in case an emergency occurs is essential. The heightened level of security has put all on edge, and you may feel overly suspicious of every face that shies away from your gaze. You do not blame them. The sight of an Einherjar, with the logo of the ruthless Dreamwatch emblazoned on your armour would make even the most innocent bystander uncomfortable. Nevertheless, you have chosen to walk among them so you must remain on the alert, even if it seems like a futile effort given the difficulty of vision. [/div][div class="textbox big1"]
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Orochi, Andlang Control (GM-able AI)[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
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Positional Post - This is a Positional Post. It will include directional cues for each of you to steer your character towards as you make your post. This includes, but is not limited to, points or objects of interest. You may continue to post as per normal, however by the end of it, you must pick one of the given cues as the results of your actions will influence how a future scene unfolds. If not enough description is given, you may add to your own within reason; as in the case of environmental objects or non-major NPCs. If you'd like to add something and you are unsure if it'll pass, feel free to contact me
Multiple people can pick the same option which will also affect future outcomes.
░ ░░ ░ ░░
Not for the first time in the last couple of months, Andarta lamented her latest assignment. In all her years of service, she'd proven herself incredibly effective as an individual at performing her duties. She'd also been part of a team, placed among the best. But she rued the day that Prime Observer Amiela had suddenly got the jump on her, assigning her to lead a bunch of quite possibly inept initiates. She didn't know why they saw a need to establish a new squad, or why they thought she'd make an effective leader. Regardless, in true Andarta fashion, she accepted the task with stoic severity.
It was probably her toughest assignment yet, if not in terms of her ability to complete it then at least in breaking the ice queen's frigid exterior. If there were anything that would've made her let out bouts of frustration and quite possibly crack her dispassionate facade it was surely--
"Cap'n, permission to hang by the stairs with Lil' Morri in case she needs backup?" Her greatest anathema thus far spoke up.
Yep, a certain god of the damned. The observers must've screwed up their naming process somewhere. She was doubly certain whatever ancient civilization that named their god of the dead Hades would be sorely disappointed their ominous deity was now represented by a part-timing clown.
She didn't immediately reply, allowing Nergal's witty retort and then Morrighan to state her own answer. Finally, she trained her icy irises onto the errant initiate making sure he was looking directly at her still visorless face.
"Do what you wish Hades. But I will personally recalibrate you if your actions jeopardizes the mission." The senior Einherjar replied cooly, though whether or not she would truly go-ahead and perform the enforced reset remains to be seen. Her hawklike gaze lingered on Hades a second longer than necessary before she looked away and headed towards the exit of their meeting room, her visor hissed into place completing the seal of her armour. She tapped into the squad comms for one final address to the team.
"The summit will begin very soon. Make sure you're all connected to the Andlang HQ's safe channel alpha-two-four-five-five-gamma at all times. Set connection status to Variable Array." Andarta's eyes flickered over her visor's HUD, watching the blinking notifications of her team connecting to the secure Einherjar channel. When they had all done so, she made her report.
"Andlang control, this is Andarta. Gamma Blue in position."
"Gamma Blue, status received." A cold androgynous voice acknowledged.
"`Bout time the Newbies showed up." A cocky self-assured drawl slurred over the comms, grating on her nerves. It was the leader of Sigma Yellow.
"Stay in your loft Orochi." Andarta replied, her gaze shifting upwards into the impossibly high ceiling of the High Placidum. Her visor focusing on a particular individual beside a catwalk in yellow trimmed obsidian armour.
"Just keep the precious younglings out of our way and we're good." Her visor's inbuilt telescopic vision was meagre, but it was just enough to catch the armoured figure point down at her and mimic firing a shot. Andarta let out an air of amusement, before heading down to the ground level.
Consul Varrinne raised an elegant hand and the cheers quietened into the hushed silence of stray whispers and awed gasps. The vision of beauty and power smiled at the crowds, about to begin her address.
❖ ❖ ❖
POSITIONAL POSTING - Peitharchia, Woden.
1. The High Placidum's structure is incredibly impressive. Tall arching columns hold a massive domed ceiling, each gargantuan pillar of pristine white alloy shaped like the branching arms of large trees, fluidly blending into the overall structure, making the inside of the High Placidum appear to be carved out of a singular object; as opposed to a building comprised of conjoined parts. Your eyes would marvel at the surrounding place, ignoring the events below. You might perhaps even try to spy out the hidden forms of Sigma Yellow above you. Make your post as usual, but end it in this direction if it is your choice.
2. High up in the Upper Mezzanine level, the crowds appear to you as a shifting mass of tiny figures. The division of castes and social ranks clearly distinguished from the ordered seats to the cordoned sections of the general public. This summit must surely be the largest formal address in quite a while, as seen from the thousands of people gathered. As Consul Varrinne steps out to begin her address, you marvel at her calm composure, suspended so far above the crowds walking on nothing but a single wide tile to step on.
POSITIONAL POSTING - Nergal, Morrighan, Hades.
1. Higher Access. The entrance to the Lower Mezzanine levels is guarded on both sides by Aurelian royal guards and the robotic-looking Absynthian Watch. The crowds are kept a respectable distance away from the entrance and given the fact that most appeared to be of the upper echelon's of society the surrounding area is much more subdued. Though an important one, this summit is borne on the backs of rising tensions between arguably two of the most powerful worlds. The pressure to work together is strenuous at best. Perhaps you might want to keep a closer look on the guards from both nations? Or perhaps train your eye into the public masses?
2. Utility Stairwell. The ground level is filled by crowds of people, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. An inconspicuous doorway sits along the western edge of the High Placidum, its smooth surface nigh camouflaged into the stony walls. There are fewer guards in this section though the crowds have been kept a respectable distance from the door. Additionally, you know that the door only responds to Aurelian guards and Einherjar touch. The set of stairs leading to the utility stairwell provides a better vantage point to look into the masses. Should you move up the steps to focus at the crowds? Or mayhap you might want to take a peek into the hidden utility area?
3. Plebeian Rush. Throngs of common-folk crowd the ground level, making it exceptionally difficult to move quickly without roughing a few shoulders. Nevertheless, having someone in the immediate vicinity in case an emergency occurs is essential. The heightened level of security has put all on edge, and you may feel overly suspicious of every face that shies away from your gaze. You do not blame them. The sight of an Einherjar, with the logo of the ruthless Dreamwatch emblazoned on your armour would make even the most innocent bystander uncomfortable. Nevertheless, you have chosen to walk among them so you must remain on the alert, even if it seems like a futile effort given the difficulty of vision. [/div][div class="textbox big1"]
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BLK
ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ!
Peitharchia
(Catch-Up Post, Dialogue removed for the sake of speeding along.)
(Catch-Up Post, Dialogue removed for the sake of speeding along.)
Peitharchia. It took a second for Lev to register he had been mentioned. The name never really drew to him. He found out that it was some Old-World deity drawn up to teach people to fall in line, which didn't exactly miss the mark with him. He gleaned that he would be somewhere up high with Woden. Somewhere in the back of his head Lev sighed to himself, commenting that at least he was with his favorite from this team. While Lev tried to find the best in most people, sometimes he couldn't. Rather sometimes he didn't want to. Woden was certainly neither of these. He found the short man to be one of his most enjoyable companions so far. Lev would have loved to have kept running through why most of the team struck him the wrong way, but Woden interrupted that thought-- Probably for the better.
Lev followed Woden along until they came to their post. As they walked, Lev watched the little sniper carefully. While he was playing with his gun and clearly worried about something, it was obvious to Lev that he was more keyed into the mission than he was. Today had been rather difficult for some reason. Perhaps it was the travel or the crowds, but Lev usually liked those. Crowds let him feel alone without actually being by himself, and its always fun to see new places. But still Lev was nervous.
Today felt like a fine day though. Usually nothing goes wrong at this sort of thing anyways, Lev thought. To take his mind off things, the young man surveyed the scene. He found himself truly taken aback by the scale of the function. According to their leader, some person more important than himself would be speaking just below him, with a sea of people swallowing everything underneath. Rows upon rows of people covered the once open area, leaving Lev pondering what use this space had on days other than this. It almost disturbed him. This kind of excess felt wrong, but he couldn't place why. The sweeping dome cut the sky off, keeping the unnaturally piercing light inside. Glittering rays bounced off various shining and shimmering objects, clothes, and whatever it could, even up into the area he was supposed to be watching. Somewhere under his thoughts Woden had said something but his words went right past him.
---------
Peitharchia
(Current post)
Lev was stopped when the Consul appeared. The light that had bothered him earlier seemed to draw his eyes towards her and her alone. Everything from her dress to the way she walked entraced Lev for a second. The roar of the crowd below her brought him back into reality. Peitharchia
(Current post)
"She's quite the shocker, brother." Lev joked to Woden, motioning to the woman below them. His accent betrayed his upbringing. While he had long since forgotten what it was that made him speak that way it always plagued him. He felt out of place among his peers who all sounded alike. But it wasn't that big of a deal. Lev still was able to have fun with or without an accent.
There was obviously something up here though. The rest of the team would certainly be enough security to handle something like this, alongside the ordinary details of each respective party present. Why was there a second team? This thought had begun to eat away at Lev. The crowd, while a bit rowdy, wasn't anything that required the practically immortal Einherjars. Neither were the astounding number of security issues present in the building and the surroundings. Every issue could easily be covered by the locals with a little bit of redundancy. But he had been assigned here, so obviously the higher ups thought this gathering was worth monitoring. The commander had mentioned the other team would be above them, but this was also confusing.
In Lev's mind, probably the same part that wanted to keep going on about the people he disliked, he had a thought that would probably get him some sort of punishment if he opened his mouth. But he didn't bother listening to himself. Lev drew his eyes away from the Consul, across the room to the walls. They twisted and turned, reminding him of some plant he had seen somewhere he couldn't remember. The pattern continued across all the walls and almost dripped onto the floors, at least where they weren't covered by people. As he drew his eyes back up, the winding and twisting ran into the domed ceiling he had been staring at moments before. But still, the thought nipped at him. He looked down from the ceiling and began scanning the floor above him and his comrade. He couldn't help it, really. The other team was out there somewhere and he knew it. he began to look in each window, open balcony, and walkway, hoping to find something, anything or anyone. Lev couldn't tell why he was doing this. It wasn't his job to look up there. He knew he would likely miss something humorous or enjoyable if he kept looking up, or worst case scenario, he would miss something bad happening below him.
revior
The Iseguy
Hades
Hades' big silly grin broadened further as his team jabbed him with abuse left and right. He wondered if it were in the past, back when he was alive, something like this would have bothered him. It might have. He had a feeling that he was someone who wanted to be able to manage everything perfectly, even his relationships with others. How to act in such a way that he could keep those he liked close, how to behave around those he had a hard time dealing with so that he would still be able to work well with them in spite of what disagreements he might have with them, Hades had a feeling that he was someone who thought of these sort of things all the time.
But, he asked himself, was there really a need for it? Can't he just be himself? Who cares if they hate and ridicule me? Isn't it better to be hated for who you are rather than be liked for who you're not? Ah, but on the other hand, being liked is pretty nice, so who really knows? Is there even such a thing as worse or better in the grand scheme of things?
Hades shrugged. It didn't matter either way, not in this particular situation. He didn't dislike where he wounded up, and even if he didn't like it, he'd find some way to ride it out. At the very least, his team was interesting, fun to be with too. Each of them had their little quirks, each of them had a different way of reacting to him, it's things such as these that added color to the world around him. If not for these things, this ghost would have long taken his business elsewhere.
"Heh, I wouldn't mind watching your rear, Nergal," he said with a cheeky wink, "but I'm afraid my first instincts when it comes to being shot at is going to make me an unreliable cover."
Then, he turned towards Andarta.
"And don't you worry about it cap'n, I have never screwed up that badly before," he said with a smile.
"Not yet at least," he added, knowing that it'll probably gnaw at the team leader for the rest of the mission and was delighted by the thought.
"Well then, seeing as nobody other than Nergal wants me here, I suppose I'll go make myself useful and go check out the crowd on the ground. Call me if you need anything."
With his abilities as an Eidolon, Hades would have less trouble moving through the crowd if need be, and so he figured he'd be ideal to deal with any situation that might occur there. Not to mention, if there was someone planning to cause trouble, there's a good chance that they might be blending in amongst the populace. Rather than being far from the action should a situation arise, Hades would much rather be the first one there.
"Now, let's hope I'm right on the money."
Lekiel
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Last edited:
Ramjammer
Confirmed Memelord
It took a few seconds for Nergal's eyes to adapt to the sudden flare of Cyan that composed the entirety of her H.U.D. She hated the damn thing on the best of days. It was far too busy for her simple sensibilities. Time, temperature, the day of the fucking week and still more. A constant stream of useless facts force fed to her second by agonizing second. Her own vitals were undoubtedly the most pointless aspect of the whole array. Nergal was positive that she'd be able to tell if she was dead or not. Or more dead than was acceptable anyhow.
She'd fiddled with her settings to make everything as unobtrusive as possible. Nergal didn't care for the state of her quarry's physical or mental well-being. Being manhandled by an Einherjar meant that someone was having a bad day. A readout of their blood pressure wasn't required to prove that.
The only thing that mattered enough to earn a spot in the woman's line of sight at all times was her Lucidator's current readout. Nergal took a vested interest in who could be dreaming out there as much as anyone in Dreamwatch. Missing an opportunity to nab such an individual because she preferred a minimalist U.I. would not look good, much less settle well with her internally.
Tuning out the dull roar of constant chatter that filled the High Placidium was just as simple. A thousand voices clamoring all the way to the vaulted ceilings for the chance to be heard over their brothers. People really loved to hear themselves talk, and they tried all the harder when in the company of like-minded individuals. It grated on her nerves. Not just the noise, but the cover it provided. Short of lurking near groups of people talking to each other and leering over shoulders like a creep, Nergal knew that her chances of a few incriminating words finding their way to her ears were very slim.
Granted, it wasn't as irritating the commander of Sigma Yellow taunting them all from over their heads. Nergal watched impassively as Andarta craned her head back to presumably glare up at the man from beneath her helmet. She didn't bother looking up with the Captain. It was obvious he was up there. Some snakes preferred to keep their bellies to the ground, others liked to dwell in trees and spit their venom from on high.
Nergal preferred being planted firmly on the ground.
"Charming fellow." She murmured to herself, deciding that it was best for her blood pressure to not get involved with their small spat. There were profoundly more interesting things to occupy her mind with.
The success of their mission was the most prominent of her considerations, Even if nothing at all happened, Nergal was committed to her duties. She scanned the expanse of the High Placidium with interest, wondering where and how a presumed attack would take place. A large building left plenty of options and Terrorism was a pastime that valued creativity and innovation. Nergal reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small titanium cube. Compact enough to rest in her palm, the small device was in actuality composed of several smaller cubes. Hinges allowed for movement, and Nergal was in the habit of mindlessly of shuffling them around in one hand as she thought seriously about anything.
"A crowd this large would need a plant." she mumbled to herself. Naturally the wealthy Elite were kept well away from the common rabble. It was far less rowdy in the upper levels, meaning anyone posted there would have to look and play the part exceptionally well.
"Results... They're cultists... they want the attention and aren't usually subtle." She thought. Nergal had more or less zoned out as she considered her available options. Only the constant shifting of the cube in her hand and its audible metallic clacking gave any sign she was alive.
The lower levels, awash in a throng of bodies, seemed more inclined to harbor one or even several of The Sons. Bumping shoulders with the upper Echelons of society may as well been anathema to them with what they preached. Nergal would have considered situating herself within the throng to see if she might spot anyone suspicious, but she preferred the kind of crowd work that allowed her to blend in. Someone was very obviously going to notice an entire Einhenjar tromping around. It was a conundrum, but the solution came in the form of Hades being very much Hades.
The man had an overbearing presence and was big enough to spot from at least twenty meters off. Anyone planted in the crowd would notice him coming. But Hades had the distinction of looking slightly unhinged and had the record to back it up. Einherjar were terrifying enough to a regular Plebeian on the best of days. The Sons of Pythagoras, being made of the kind of stuff that allowed people to blow themselves to Hell in the pursuit of an ideal, were a tougher nut to crack. They were not of the habit of bending to Dreamwatch. They'd proven that repeatedly. But a sufficiently rowdy enough member wandering around unchecked might scare one of them enough into inadvertently setting themselves apart from the crowd.
Nergal had no way of knowing if it was even true. But Hades exuded an air of carelessness that was consistently dangerous. It would be foolish to NOT avoid him. She certainly would.
Short of being spies or Terrorists themselves, neither the Aurelian Royal Guard or Absynthian Watch seemed liable to be the source of any problems. As far as Nergal cared to tell, both parties seemed to have the kind of stick up their asses devoted to saving face. She couldn't find it in herself to be assed with them.
"I can at least give them the benefit of the doubt." She mused silently. "Their necks are on the line if they fuck this up. They wouldn't dare. Not if it means getting shown up at their own party." Perhaps their higher ups would be more grateful to Dreamwatch for saving the day if the need arose. But a nobody grunt on guard duty? Nergal understood innately how much that might piss them off. Soldiers had their pride after all. It seemed unlikely to her they'd risk that.
"That leaves..." She trailed off, snapping the cube in hand one last time before pocketing it.
Rats loved their warrens, and the Utility Area seemed as good a nest as any. She doubted that she would find anything worthwhile down there. The clearance required for entrance was a tad higher than what the normal cultist could swing. But Anarchy always found a way. With Hades showing his way through the crowd, Nergal couldn't think of no better time to act. The address had begun in earnest and the Consul had perched herself at vertigo inducing heights to receive the crowd's exultation. Everyone was distracted. It was time to move.
"Captain." Nergal said curtly, "I'm going to sweep the Utility Area. I don't expect much of anything to be down there, but I'll feel better having looked." Andarta was a woman of efficiency, and Nergal didn't waste time with pleasantries. There was work to be done after all.
She tried to make it to the door with the same level of haste. A very heavy emphasis on 'tried'.The crowd was notably more subdued once the Consul began to speak, but the bodies numbered no less. The door was easy to spot and the surrounding space was blessedly clear save for the handful of guards that gave her a few disinterested glances. Nergal was fine with that. She only wanted to do her job and get the Hell out of there.
She'd fiddled with her settings to make everything as unobtrusive as possible. Nergal didn't care for the state of her quarry's physical or mental well-being. Being manhandled by an Einherjar meant that someone was having a bad day. A readout of their blood pressure wasn't required to prove that.
The only thing that mattered enough to earn a spot in the woman's line of sight at all times was her Lucidator's current readout. Nergal took a vested interest in who could be dreaming out there as much as anyone in Dreamwatch. Missing an opportunity to nab such an individual because she preferred a minimalist U.I. would not look good, much less settle well with her internally.
Tuning out the dull roar of constant chatter that filled the High Placidium was just as simple. A thousand voices clamoring all the way to the vaulted ceilings for the chance to be heard over their brothers. People really loved to hear themselves talk, and they tried all the harder when in the company of like-minded individuals. It grated on her nerves. Not just the noise, but the cover it provided. Short of lurking near groups of people talking to each other and leering over shoulders like a creep, Nergal knew that her chances of a few incriminating words finding their way to her ears were very slim.
Granted, it wasn't as irritating the commander of Sigma Yellow taunting them all from over their heads. Nergal watched impassively as Andarta craned her head back to presumably glare up at the man from beneath her helmet. She didn't bother looking up with the Captain. It was obvious he was up there. Some snakes preferred to keep their bellies to the ground, others liked to dwell in trees and spit their venom from on high.
Nergal preferred being planted firmly on the ground.
"Charming fellow." She murmured to herself, deciding that it was best for her blood pressure to not get involved with their small spat. There were profoundly more interesting things to occupy her mind with.
The success of their mission was the most prominent of her considerations, Even if nothing at all happened, Nergal was committed to her duties. She scanned the expanse of the High Placidium with interest, wondering where and how a presumed attack would take place. A large building left plenty of options and Terrorism was a pastime that valued creativity and innovation. Nergal reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small titanium cube. Compact enough to rest in her palm, the small device was in actuality composed of several smaller cubes. Hinges allowed for movement, and Nergal was in the habit of mindlessly of shuffling them around in one hand as she thought seriously about anything.
"A crowd this large would need a plant." she mumbled to herself. Naturally the wealthy Elite were kept well away from the common rabble. It was far less rowdy in the upper levels, meaning anyone posted there would have to look and play the part exceptionally well.
"Results... They're cultists... they want the attention and aren't usually subtle." She thought. Nergal had more or less zoned out as she considered her available options. Only the constant shifting of the cube in her hand and its audible metallic clacking gave any sign she was alive.
The lower levels, awash in a throng of bodies, seemed more inclined to harbor one or even several of The Sons. Bumping shoulders with the upper Echelons of society may as well been anathema to them with what they preached. Nergal would have considered situating herself within the throng to see if she might spot anyone suspicious, but she preferred the kind of crowd work that allowed her to blend in. Someone was very obviously going to notice an entire Einhenjar tromping around. It was a conundrum, but the solution came in the form of Hades being very much Hades.
The man had an overbearing presence and was big enough to spot from at least twenty meters off. Anyone planted in the crowd would notice him coming. But Hades had the distinction of looking slightly unhinged and had the record to back it up. Einherjar were terrifying enough to a regular Plebeian on the best of days. The Sons of Pythagoras, being made of the kind of stuff that allowed people to blow themselves to Hell in the pursuit of an ideal, were a tougher nut to crack. They were not of the habit of bending to Dreamwatch. They'd proven that repeatedly. But a sufficiently rowdy enough member wandering around unchecked might scare one of them enough into inadvertently setting themselves apart from the crowd.
Nergal had no way of knowing if it was even true. But Hades exuded an air of carelessness that was consistently dangerous. It would be foolish to NOT avoid him. She certainly would.
Short of being spies or Terrorists themselves, neither the Aurelian Royal Guard or Absynthian Watch seemed liable to be the source of any problems. As far as Nergal cared to tell, both parties seemed to have the kind of stick up their asses devoted to saving face. She couldn't find it in herself to be assed with them.
"I can at least give them the benefit of the doubt." She mused silently. "Their necks are on the line if they fuck this up. They wouldn't dare. Not if it means getting shown up at their own party." Perhaps their higher ups would be more grateful to Dreamwatch for saving the day if the need arose. But a nobody grunt on guard duty? Nergal understood innately how much that might piss them off. Soldiers had their pride after all. It seemed unlikely to her they'd risk that.
"That leaves..." She trailed off, snapping the cube in hand one last time before pocketing it.
Rats loved their warrens, and the Utility Area seemed as good a nest as any. She doubted that she would find anything worthwhile down there. The clearance required for entrance was a tad higher than what the normal cultist could swing. But Anarchy always found a way. With Hades showing his way through the crowd, Nergal couldn't think of no better time to act. The address had begun in earnest and the Consul had perched herself at vertigo inducing heights to receive the crowd's exultation. Everyone was distracted. It was time to move.
"Captain." Nergal said curtly, "I'm going to sweep the Utility Area. I don't expect much of anything to be down there, but I'll feel better having looked." Andarta was a woman of efficiency, and Nergal didn't waste time with pleasantries. There was work to be done after all.
She tried to make it to the door with the same level of haste. A very heavy emphasis on 'tried'.The crowd was notably more subdued once the Consul began to speak, but the bodies numbered no less. The door was easy to spot and the surrounding space was blessedly clear save for the handful of guards that gave her a few disinterested glances. Nergal was fine with that. She only wanted to do her job and get the Hell out of there.
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
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A Duty You Can't Refuse
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Persona[/div][div class=barText]Andarta, Morrighan[/div][/div]
[div class=bar][div class=title]Promina NPC[/div][div class=barText]Consul Varrinne, Director Prelate Hin,
Andlang Control (GM-able AI)[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
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[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
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tracing neural pathways... . .delineating. . . .. . . . . Success. . . . . . . .dreamcache mapped. . . . reading. . . . . subjects peitharchia and woden aligned tracer zero zero one. . . unlocked sniper . subjects hades and andarta aligned tracer zero three. . . unlocked plebeian rush. . . double positive detected. . . adjuring tracer zero zero two. . . negative. . . parsing incomplete. . . . subject nergal aligned tracer zero two A. . . plebeian lockdown repudiated . subject morrighan aligned tracer zero three. . . aligned tracer zero one A. . . aligned tracer zero one B. . . multiple entries detected. . . defaulting. . . tracer zero one A aligned. . . unlocked war
. . . . dreamcache complete. . .
.
initiating. . .
░ ░░ ░ ░░
"Esteemed dignitaries of the Prelate and my beloved fellow Aurealians... We stand here today on this monumental occasion to witness the beginnings of history. A day that will mark great change for the future of not just the people of this treasured world... but for all other worlds. As our forerunners once declared, when they beheld the very vastness of space and realized that it was only us in this empty universe: we are not alone, for we have each other... if we set aside our differences, we will achieve much. We can... we will become so much more..-
Andarta looked away from the Consul and resumed her stalk through the throngs of people. There was almost pin-drop silence as the Consul's address began, sculptured limbs weaving to emphatically punctuate her speech. For a crowd of this magnitude, it was a feat in of itself for it to be this quiet. Sure there was the occasional hushed whispers, but the reverence the gathered Aurealians and even foreign visitors afforded to the speaker was palpable. Consul Varrinne Tretania owned the crowd. Her will and power was strong. Some might even say, too strong.
But such political intrigue was not of the Einherjar's concern, even if she wouldn't admit that she had an unexplained attraction towards minding bureaucratic affairs.
"Captain." A composed voice addressed her over the comms, she recognized Nergal. "I'm going to sweep the Utility Area. I don't expect much of anything to be down there, but I'll feel better having looked."
"Copy that, Nergal." She answered in an affirmative tone mildly glad that someone was finally taking the initiative; and doing it the right way. The dark-skinned Einherjar obviously got it, permissions weren't granted, they were taken. Unless you were about to do something stupid. At this point, a different Einherjar came to mind but the platinum-haired woman brushed the thought away continuing to sweep the crowds. It was tight, this particular section she was in. But the cold industrial body armour complete with Dreamwatch insignia could part even the most tightly bound molecules. The gathered people moved out of her way as much as they could, though not nearly enough.
The minute beep of her lucidator tracked her every step, a constant reminder of her true task even if it took a secondary placing at the current moment. Each time her darkened visor turned, the subject of her gaze visibly squirmed even if they couldn't exactly see her piercing eyes.
"Gosh, they sure are fidgety." Another vice piped up over the comms, this time it was Morrighan. "You can't actually see them move of course, but you should see how they're staring each other down across the divide... well, I mean it's easier with the Aerealians." It took Andarta a moment to figure out what the diminutive Einherjar was talking about, but she guessed rightly in the end. The Dreamwatch were no fools. Consul Varrinne could say all she wanted, but you couldn't really see the tension in a cable until it was too late. Part of the reason why the Dreamwatch was around of course. A politically blase overwatch. Then again, they were often accused of being partial to the Golden Singularity. Ah, the intrigue of finer relationships.
She let Morrighan's quip go unanswered, not seeing the need to make any random comment. Above her, the Consuls's voice undulated in rising harmony and crescendos, enrapturing the crowd's attention.
"--but of course, none of this could be achieved by alone... no, like all great things, this was accomplished through a mutual accord and will." Varrinne turned on her platform as she appeared to smile at someone standing back at the balcony. "I think it is the perfect time for me to share this stage with--"
BZZZIIIIITT
Andarta clutched at her head as a high pitched interference disrupted their comms. It was shrill, loud enough such that her skull almost seemed to be reverberating. She could barely keep her eyes open from the pain, gritting her teeth in an effort to weather through the paralyzing effects. There were voices over the comms, all but indistinct through the interfering shriek. She thought she heard shouting. Or perhaps screams. Dimly she was aware of the people around her looking at her with an odd mixture of fear and anxiety, though they appeared very much unaffected by the sound. At least she could tell that much to the squints of her eyes.
It must be affecting them alone... impossible. Who had the nerve, or more importantly, the ability to sabotage a Dreamwatch secure comms channel?
Correcting anomaly. . . standby. . .
At last, she heard the synthetic voice of the Andlang Control AI. The interference was rapidly dissipating, she could finally lookup with the crippling pain gone. The zzing faded.
It was replaced by chaos.
"The Consul's down! The Consul's down! She was shot!" A voice was screaming harriedly over her comms. It sounded like Observer Endronus.
What... how...
"Peitharchia status report! You got eyes on the Consul? What happened?!" It was a nightmare. Horrified screams reverberated throughout the High Placidum as the masses began frantically rushing in all directions. There were tears in some of their eyes as if they'd just bore witness toa tragedy most atrocious. Andarta looked up, but instead of the tiny platform and the Consul, all she could see was a dark grey cylinder extending out over the open air. The Consul wasn't quite vulnerable all along, having stood within a kind of protective transparent tunnel that had immediately turned opaque after whatever had happened. Suddenly, there was an audible boom followed by the flash of an energy projectile.
"T-They're firing on each other!!" Morrighan's panicky voice added even more confusion to the Captain as she tried to piece things together. She tried to see over the rushing crowds towards the entry of the upper levels but it was nigh impossible. All she could make out was the occasional flashes of plasma. She began striding towards where the junior Einherjar would've stationed herself. With the amount of chaos, she pretty much had to elbow people out of the way.
"Repeat that Morrighan!"
"I-I there was a shot! Right after everything went to hell! Someone fired! I was looking at the Aurealians, I don't know where it came from. It must be the Absynthian Watch!"
By Eljudnir... they were really fighting. But they had their priorities. "You're closer to the upper-level Morrighan, I need to know the status of the Consul. Peitharchia, where the hell is Sigma Yellow?! Get yourself mov-" Whatever orders she wanted to relay was cut off when Andarta saw another flash of red, but this time it was different. Her instincts kicked in straight from zero into high gear. Time seemed to slow as she swung out her arm. Angled lines appeared along her forearm as her skin seemed to shift with almost mechanical precision. Her arm bent and fingers extended. A spark. Then a shimmering blade of blue energy contacted with the oncoming projectile, absorbing the impact. Andarta let the momentum of her swing carry her, her legs kicking at the ground as she spun forwards effortlessly into the air in one smooth motion. Attacking an Einherjar...
"Is punishable by death." She came out of her spin, right sword arm extended as it came down impaling a hapless man, his own arm augmented into a rifle. His tattooed face choked as life fluids entered his breathing tract. A gurgle, followed by a gush of blood that spewed from his lips. Andarta kicked at the assailant, retracting her energy blade that had burned a hole in his chest. He was dead before he even hit the floor. She could see the tattoos on his now uncovered face. She could see the hooded and masked men rushing through the crowds. Each one seemed to be bearing a device of sorts, hidden away by augments on their bodies. All were headed right towards the centre of the High Placidum.
Sons of Pythagoras... they were here.
"Hades. Nergal. They're here." She needn't have said who. Only one infamous group warranted no introduction. "On me! Towards the centre. They're building something, a bomb maybe. We got to stop them!" She radioed her team. It was difficult to see through the crowd. She wished they had someone up top to direct them, but with Sigma Yellow eerily silent, they were suddenly severely shorthanded. She caught another terrorist, rushing towards her in his effort to slow down the Einherjar. Even for a Son, he appeared to be crudely armed with a clunky energy baton. She could only surmise that they had to sacrifice quite a bit to get around security checks. Even then, she had to hand it to them for getting through. Another Son went down to her blade, and another took a blaster shot straight through the head when he thought she wasn't looking.
How many of them are there?
CHAOS ENSUES-
All Einherjar would be affected by the paralyzing interference. All cultist weaponry and battle outcomes are currently left to the respective writer's discretion.
1. Having been looking towards the highest levels, Peitharchia would be just able to watch as someone leaned over with a high powered rifle and fire down at the exposed Consul. A sharp blast and an explosion signals the shot hitting the target. Looking down to check on the Consul, he would see that the once exposed Consul is now concealed within a tunnel of sorts. Though the screen is opaque, a smoking hole where the Consul was standing indicates that the shot had gone through the shielding material. Whether or not the Consul was killed or was hit is not immediately apparent. As Sigma Yellow is unresponsive, it falls to you to investigate what happened. As you had been looking, it was quite clear that the shooter was not an Einherjar. Your task is clear, apprehend the shooter by all means possible. I will pm you further details on what you might expect.
2. As Nergal finally reaches the utility door, she'll be annoyed to find that it refuses to allow her entry even though all Einherjar should have clearance. Upon attempting for a third time however, the door finally swings open. At this time, the interference hits. By the time Nergal recovers she finds herself face-to-face with several cultists. They charge her in an attempt to prevent her from getting to their comrade who is attempting to override the High Placidum's security systems. Should he be successful, the effects remain to be seen. Perhaps it would cause a lockdown, trapping all the panicking citizens in and causing further chaos.
3. True to their consistenetly diabolical intentions, the cultists do not stop with the attempted assassination. Mass murder is now on the books. Security had been tight enough that any effective bombs could not be brought in; not in one piece at least. The Sons of Pythagoras still found a way to bring the weapon of mass destruction by parts, hiding each component as illegal augments on their bodies. Hades, be useful for once and stop them!
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Andlang Control (GM-able AI)[/div][/div] [div class=bar][div class=title]Mentions[/div][div class=barText]
revior
BLK
InsaneAsylum
Ramjammer
Foster
[/div][/div]
[div class=bar][div class=title]Location[/div][div class=barText]High Placidum, Arkology 002, Andlang[/div][/div]
[div class=bar][div class=title]░ ░░ ░[/div][div class=barText]░ ░ ░░[/div][/div]
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[div class="textbox big1"][div class=title]░░ ░ ░░░[/div]
tracing neural pathways... . .delineating. . . .. . . . . Success. . . . . . . .dreamcache mapped. . . . reading. . . . . subjects peitharchia and woden aligned tracer zero zero one. . . unlocked sniper . subjects hades and andarta aligned tracer zero three. . . unlocked plebeian rush. . . double positive detected. . . adjuring tracer zero zero two. . . negative. . . parsing incomplete. . . . subject nergal aligned tracer zero two A. . . plebeian lockdown repudiated . subject morrighan aligned tracer zero three. . . aligned tracer zero one A. . . aligned tracer zero one B. . . multiple entries detected. . . defaulting. . . tracer zero one A aligned. . . unlocked war
. . . . dreamcache complete. . .
.
initiating. . .
░ ░░ ░ ░░
"Esteemed dignitaries of the Prelate and my beloved fellow Aurealians... We stand here today on this monumental occasion to witness the beginnings of history. A day that will mark great change for the future of not just the people of this treasured world... but for all other worlds. As our forerunners once declared, when they beheld the very vastness of space and realized that it was only us in this empty universe: we are not alone, for we have each other... if we set aside our differences, we will achieve much. We can... we will become so much more..-
Andarta looked away from the Consul and resumed her stalk through the throngs of people. There was almost pin-drop silence as the Consul's address began, sculptured limbs weaving to emphatically punctuate her speech. For a crowd of this magnitude, it was a feat in of itself for it to be this quiet. Sure there was the occasional hushed whispers, but the reverence the gathered Aurealians and even foreign visitors afforded to the speaker was palpable. Consul Varrinne Tretania owned the crowd. Her will and power was strong. Some might even say, too strong.
But such political intrigue was not of the Einherjar's concern, even if she wouldn't admit that she had an unexplained attraction towards minding bureaucratic affairs.
"Captain." A composed voice addressed her over the comms, she recognized Nergal. "I'm going to sweep the Utility Area. I don't expect much of anything to be down there, but I'll feel better having looked."
"Copy that, Nergal." She answered in an affirmative tone mildly glad that someone was finally taking the initiative; and doing it the right way. The dark-skinned Einherjar obviously got it, permissions weren't granted, they were taken. Unless you were about to do something stupid. At this point, a different Einherjar came to mind but the platinum-haired woman brushed the thought away continuing to sweep the crowds. It was tight, this particular section she was in. But the cold industrial body armour complete with Dreamwatch insignia could part even the most tightly bound molecules. The gathered people moved out of her way as much as they could, though not nearly enough.
The minute beep of her lucidator tracked her every step, a constant reminder of her true task even if it took a secondary placing at the current moment. Each time her darkened visor turned, the subject of her gaze visibly squirmed even if they couldn't exactly see her piercing eyes.
"Gosh, they sure are fidgety." Another vice piped up over the comms, this time it was Morrighan. "You can't actually see them move of course, but you should see how they're staring each other down across the divide... well, I mean it's easier with the Aerealians." It took Andarta a moment to figure out what the diminutive Einherjar was talking about, but she guessed rightly in the end. The Dreamwatch were no fools. Consul Varrinne could say all she wanted, but you couldn't really see the tension in a cable until it was too late. Part of the reason why the Dreamwatch was around of course. A politically blase overwatch. Then again, they were often accused of being partial to the Golden Singularity. Ah, the intrigue of finer relationships.
She let Morrighan's quip go unanswered, not seeing the need to make any random comment. Above her, the Consuls's voice undulated in rising harmony and crescendos, enrapturing the crowd's attention.
"--but of course, none of this could be achieved by alone... no, like all great things, this was accomplished through a mutual accord and will." Varrinne turned on her platform as she appeared to smile at someone standing back at the balcony. "I think it is the perfect time for me to share this stage with--"
BZZZIIIIITT
Andarta clutched at her head as a high pitched interference disrupted their comms. It was shrill, loud enough such that her skull almost seemed to be reverberating. She could barely keep her eyes open from the pain, gritting her teeth in an effort to weather through the paralyzing effects. There were voices over the comms, all but indistinct through the interfering shriek. She thought she heard shouting. Or perhaps screams. Dimly she was aware of the people around her looking at her with an odd mixture of fear and anxiety, though they appeared very much unaffected by the sound. At least she could tell that much to the squints of her eyes.
It must be affecting them alone... impossible. Who had the nerve, or more importantly, the ability to sabotage a Dreamwatch secure comms channel?
Correcting anomaly. . . standby. . .
At last, she heard the synthetic voice of the Andlang Control AI. The interference was rapidly dissipating, she could finally lookup with the crippling pain gone. The zzing faded.
It was replaced by chaos.
"The Consul's down! The Consul's down! She was shot!" A voice was screaming harriedly over her comms. It sounded like Observer Endronus.
What... how...
"Peitharchia status report! You got eyes on the Consul? What happened?!" It was a nightmare. Horrified screams reverberated throughout the High Placidum as the masses began frantically rushing in all directions. There were tears in some of their eyes as if they'd just bore witness toa tragedy most atrocious. Andarta looked up, but instead of the tiny platform and the Consul, all she could see was a dark grey cylinder extending out over the open air. The Consul wasn't quite vulnerable all along, having stood within a kind of protective transparent tunnel that had immediately turned opaque after whatever had happened. Suddenly, there was an audible boom followed by the flash of an energy projectile.
"T-They're firing on each other!!" Morrighan's panicky voice added even more confusion to the Captain as she tried to piece things together. She tried to see over the rushing crowds towards the entry of the upper levels but it was nigh impossible. All she could make out was the occasional flashes of plasma. She began striding towards where the junior Einherjar would've stationed herself. With the amount of chaos, she pretty much had to elbow people out of the way.
"Repeat that Morrighan!"
"I-I there was a shot! Right after everything went to hell! Someone fired! I was looking at the Aurealians, I don't know where it came from. It must be the Absynthian Watch!"
By Eljudnir... they were really fighting. But they had their priorities. "You're closer to the upper-level Morrighan, I need to know the status of the Consul. Peitharchia, where the hell is Sigma Yellow?! Get yourself mov-" Whatever orders she wanted to relay was cut off when Andarta saw another flash of red, but this time it was different. Her instincts kicked in straight from zero into high gear. Time seemed to slow as she swung out her arm. Angled lines appeared along her forearm as her skin seemed to shift with almost mechanical precision. Her arm bent and fingers extended. A spark. Then a shimmering blade of blue energy contacted with the oncoming projectile, absorbing the impact. Andarta let the momentum of her swing carry her, her legs kicking at the ground as she spun forwards effortlessly into the air in one smooth motion. Attacking an Einherjar...
"Is punishable by death." She came out of her spin, right sword arm extended as it came down impaling a hapless man, his own arm augmented into a rifle. His tattooed face choked as life fluids entered his breathing tract. A gurgle, followed by a gush of blood that spewed from his lips. Andarta kicked at the assailant, retracting her energy blade that had burned a hole in his chest. He was dead before he even hit the floor. She could see the tattoos on his now uncovered face. She could see the hooded and masked men rushing through the crowds. Each one seemed to be bearing a device of sorts, hidden away by augments on their bodies. All were headed right towards the centre of the High Placidum.
Sons of Pythagoras... they were here.
"Hades. Nergal. They're here." She needn't have said who. Only one infamous group warranted no introduction. "On me! Towards the centre. They're building something, a bomb maybe. We got to stop them!" She radioed her team. It was difficult to see through the crowd. She wished they had someone up top to direct them, but with Sigma Yellow eerily silent, they were suddenly severely shorthanded. She caught another terrorist, rushing towards her in his effort to slow down the Einherjar. Even for a Son, he appeared to be crudely armed with a clunky energy baton. She could only surmise that they had to sacrifice quite a bit to get around security checks. Even then, she had to hand it to them for getting through. Another Son went down to her blade, and another took a blaster shot straight through the head when he thought she wasn't looking.
How many of them are there?
❖ ❖ ❖
CHAOS ENSUES-
All Einherjar would be affected by the paralyzing interference. All cultist weaponry and battle outcomes are currently left to the respective writer's discretion.
1. Having been looking towards the highest levels, Peitharchia would be just able to watch as someone leaned over with a high powered rifle and fire down at the exposed Consul. A sharp blast and an explosion signals the shot hitting the target. Looking down to check on the Consul, he would see that the once exposed Consul is now concealed within a tunnel of sorts. Though the screen is opaque, a smoking hole where the Consul was standing indicates that the shot had gone through the shielding material. Whether or not the Consul was killed or was hit is not immediately apparent. As Sigma Yellow is unresponsive, it falls to you to investigate what happened. As you had been looking, it was quite clear that the shooter was not an Einherjar. Your task is clear, apprehend the shooter by all means possible. I will pm you further details on what you might expect.
2. As Nergal finally reaches the utility door, she'll be annoyed to find that it refuses to allow her entry even though all Einherjar should have clearance. Upon attempting for a third time however, the door finally swings open. At this time, the interference hits. By the time Nergal recovers she finds herself face-to-face with several cultists. They charge her in an attempt to prevent her from getting to their comrade who is attempting to override the High Placidum's security systems. Should he be successful, the effects remain to be seen. Perhaps it would cause a lockdown, trapping all the panicking citizens in and causing further chaos.
3. True to their consistenetly diabolical intentions, the cultists do not stop with the attempted assassination. Mass murder is now on the books. Security had been tight enough that any effective bombs could not be brought in; not in one piece at least. The Sons of Pythagoras still found a way to bring the weapon of mass destruction by parts, hiding each component as illegal augments on their bodies. Hades, be useful for once and stop them!
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revior
The Iseguy
Hades
It was surprisingly easy for Hades to move through the sea of men and women. Wherever he walked, the sea parted, so wide a path they opened for him he found it difficult not to smirk. Was it his size? Was it his unhinged bearings? Was it the reputation of the Einherjar? Was it the fact that he was a literal walking dead? Perhaps it was all of the above? Regardless, they feared him, that much was clear. In truth, it was a little refreshing. It was calming and in a way and was very different from Aaru, where just by walking down the streets, there's a good chance of someone picking a fight with him. Not that he didn't enjoy that either. No, he enjoyed that very much. A little too much maybe.
Casually, he scanned the crowd as he moved through them, not even bothering to check on the lucidator. He had already forgotten about it, the mission to search for dreamers. It wasn't something that interested him, not that he was all that keen on the idea of dragging off someone who had nothing to do with anything against their will in the first place.
"Haa..." Hades sighed for the first time this day. Even after passing Pluto and leaving the Milky Way behind, the world was as trouble as it always had been. It made him wonder if it'll ever change.
Soon, however, he shook the thought away. It mattered not to a ghost. These things were long behind him. The troubles of the living should mean nothing to the dead. Still, he was there, in whatever counted for flesh for an Einherjar, and as such, try as he may to not bother with the world, the world did not necessarily feel the same.
It was a sound most horrendous, one that permeated through his being. To say that it was painful was an understatement. It was something that tore into his mind and shook the core of his being. For but a brief moment, he thought to let the sound waves phase through his body, but he was unable to focus for a long enough time to pull it off. There was no choice for him but to hold on, and by the time it was over, he was surprised that he remained conscious for as long as he did.
Then, just as he thought it was over, a panicked voice came through the comms, screaming something about how the Consul was shot. Nothing was over. In fact, it was only the beginning.
"Hades. Nergal. They're here," the captain's voice came through the comms. Who's they? Who cares! if they're here to start trouble, then they'll be sent running home with double, provided they even make it home that is.
"About damn time," Hades said in private, a big stupid grin on his face. He was getting tired of the patrolling and deep contemplation. It was time for action.
His hand reached for his back as he pushed through the stampeding crowd ahead of him, even phasing through some of them if it looked like they were about to collide. The captain had given her orders, and though following orders wasn't exactly his forte, he did feel like giving her a small surprise by doing what he was told for once.
As the crowd scrambled to get away from the center of the storm, the High Placidum, from the corner of his eye, Hades spot a few people actually heading towards it. He smirked, knowing that he had found his targets. After all, what kind of law-abiding citizen would rush towards trouble with such fervor? And sure enough, one of them, upon spotting the Dreamwatch insignia on his armor, came running right at him. And now, his smirk has turned into a grin.
With a flip of a switch on the hilt of his sword, the sheath unlocked itself, allowing the blade to slide out from the side. As Hades brought his instrument down, his assailant brought his right arm up to protect himself. A dull sound was made upon the blade's contact. The right arm was made of metal.
The man had a hood over his head, but Hades could clearly see his cocky smirk. However, soon that smirk would turn right around when Hades' blade contained to sink into the metallic arm.
"This ain't no antique, buddy!" said Hades as he pressed his sword further into the arm, cutting right through it along with the rest of the body it was connected to.
The sword wasn't any old blade. It was a state of the art instrument of death that uses high-frequency vibrations to part molecular structures. Even Hades knew well enough to not bring a collector's item to a fight.
With his first hostile taken care of, he went after another, and then another as he made his way to the center of the High Placidum, either cutting them down with his blade or shooting them down with his not-so-trusty plasma blaster, though the fault lies in him being not such a great shot. As much as he could, he tried to reduce their number. The fewer there are, the fewer parts for the bomb will make it, after all. He could only hope that whatever they're making was sophisticated enough to not work without the right parts in place, though something told him otherwise.
Lekiel
GrieveWriter
U-Incorporated 2nd Class Type Unit
Janus
The man who wore his face was a familiar sight to Janus, he was a sight he'd been subjected to enough times to be familiar. This time he was in a packed lobby, happily letting two women guide him to the elevators as the crowd disbursed before him. The man downed some of the bottle he was holding before casually leaning to the side to scrawl out an autograph that was almost as illegible as he was, the drinking he'd done prior only serving to ready himself for the rest of the party. Janus would watch him pile into the elevator with his entourage, wondering why he kept drinking. The man's goal was obviously to sleep with those women, but if he drank himself into a coma beforehand then what was the point?You've had more than enough to drink, focus on the goal before you.
It was what Janus thought each time this memory managed to surface in his head, but he knew his tips were for naught. Even if he had the ability to go diving through time itself to give them to the man, he knew for a fact that he wouldn't care for such warnings. For that was just the kind of person he was. The kind who couldn't care about risking his health even when that was what he'd based his entire career on, the kind who flitted about from one interest to another without a care in the world, the kind who skirted and crossed the bounds of the law whenever it managed to entertain him. All of these things were the man that Janus knew as Rodney, the person he'd inherited this body from. The person whose thoughts and memories bled in on extremely rare occasions, the very person who many claimed that he was at some point. It was an idea that Janus had learned to accept, and so he'd come to accept the annoyances that were Rodney's occasional memories popping up.
He knew how this played out, Rodney let the women carry him to an apartment room where he'd almost immediately pass out. The memory cut out there of course, but Janus had managed to piece together the parts where he woke up. He failed to complete his objective of bedding either of those women, who'd ran off with his money and a bunch of his more expensive luggage. But Rodney wasn't the type to care about such a blatant failure, he'd simply joke about it to his enraged manager after calling him up on a public communications terminal.
Such a waste that Janus was glad he only had to deal with on those rarest of occasions. Unlike many of his peers, he worked hard to ignore those memories. Weapon maintenance was a perfect opportunity to distract himself with a task far more meaningful, but it was while he was taking inventory that he noticed the sudden shift of the ship they were in. He'd been checking his equipment ever since they set out for the High Placidum, the hiccup in their journey only providing him more time to look over his gear. Their route had nearly taken them into the middle of several Hadracyte clusters that shouldn't have been there. It had taken them a moment to plot their way around them, but eventually they were back on schedule.
Apparently that little lull in activity was more than enough time for things to go to hell.
As the ship finally closed in on the High Placidum, they were informed that the meeting hadn't just gone badly, local communications were awash with panicked calls and reports. Janus gave a slow blink as he slid his handgun back into its holster and began sifting through the information given. A Sons of Pythagoras attack, that was the situation they were dealing with. They went from late arrivals to reinforcements, but Janus was okay with that. Workers had to be ready for sudden changes in goals in response to the machinations of other parties. That was just how good business was, and he would be damned if he wasn't ready for it.
Reinforce current Einherjar presence and neutralize the Sons of Pythagoras threat, those were the objectives that he had now, and they were the ones he would fulfill.
The ship didn't touch down, the fighting between the Royal Guard and the Watch was too hot. That wasn't much of a problem, Einherjars were trained for quick drop deployment scenarios. Glancing back, Janus briefly looked over the other Einherjars in the ship with him. Most of them were 'fresh' like him, many of them he'd trained with for some time before this first mission. He could only hope they were as good in a live-fire scenario as they were on the training grounds, for some more more than others even.
But this was no time to worry about that, as a door on the side of the ship was sliding open at that very moment. Janus stood upon the edge of the door and looked down at the chaos below with his own eyes. Fleeing civilians, the two security forces firing on each other despite them, and in that swarm of action there were undoubtedly Cultists darting around using the crowd as cover. From just that look, Janus reminded himself of his objectives and let his gaze travel over the panic to the entrance of the High Placidum.
Leaping from the ship, Janus landed as the rest of his helmet slid up and formed over his face. He landed amidst the crowd and rose as the people fled past him. They were irrelevant to the objective, as were the Royal Guard and the Watch who were skirmishing in the midst of the panic. Janus began making his way through the fleeing people, pushing his way through while skirting around the conflict. The entrance was in sight, but as were the conspicuous figures that were tearing into anyone near them in a bid to get inside. One of which saw Janus approaching and raised a hand towards him, two of his fingers sliding aside as the barrel of a rifle extended out.
The heel of Janus' boot connected with the cultist's wrist, forcing up his weapon just as it fired a round harmlessly into the air. Janus locked eyes with the hooded man before yanking his arm to the side with his heel and spinning as energy spikes popped out all along his calf. The Cultist brought his weapon up again only for the spiked limb to shred along it and rend his augmented arm apart. As he stumbled back, Janus swung his other leg up, leaving deep groves along the man's chest and spinning him backwards. Two other cultists took note, one formed his elbow into what looked like a stun baton as the other one's eye lit up.
Drawing his handgun, Janus put a round in the back of the downed cultist's head before slipping out of the way of the stun baton, He kicked out for the back of the baton-wielder's heel, with his spikes tearing chunks out of it as he rolled towards the final cultist. A beam of energy fired from his glowing eye, which Janus rolled under before tackling him to the ground. He rammed the barrel of his handgun into into the Cultist's mouth before painting the ground beneath them with the insides of his head.
His eyes went up towards the entrance of the High Placidum, only for a pained cry behind him to clue him in to the attack from the Cultist with the baton. Despite his ankle being shredded, the Cultist stumbled forward with a maddened cry as he struck down at Janus with his baton. Gripping hold of the corpse beneath him, Janus swung his leg up behind him and raked his spikes along the cultist's face before the baton could connect, sending him spinning away with a cry of agony as his hand went to the numerous lacerations which now blinded him. He wasn't given long to fret, as a single round from Janus's handgun put him down as the Scrim turned his attention back to his proper objective.
Even with three dead Cultists to his name, the sheer scale of the chaos around him provided quite a sizable challenge to get through. Janus took a moment to check the magazine of his handgun before loading it again and proceeding forward. He could only hope that Nezha and the rest of them were having better luck than he was so far.
I.EVie
New Member
Nezha # Wu Xin # High Placidum
The low hum of the shuttle died slowly as they landed. Crimson eyes blinked open, without a trace of sleep or defocus, as Nezha pulled himself into a more proper sitting posture. His gaze flickered around the vehicle, from comrade to comrade, all in varying states of readiness, to the tightly shut metal door. The voice in his ear had told him, through odd static noises, that they were going to be met with a battle when they arrived at the… whatever the thing they were supposed to be at was called. A surprising piece of news, all things considered, since he’d been warned to expect a boring bout of patrolling. Not shocking, though. Nothing really shocked Nezha anymore, since the moment he woke up from the dead and came face-to-face with an alien world.
Most days, he would be glad for the change of plans. Combat was one of his only joys in life, after all. But today, he was feeling lazy. And cutting people in half was not a job for a lazy man. Still, the training he’d received and the instincts of a soldier pushed him to stand up and prepare to disembark.
Or, at least, he assumed it was the instincts of a soldier since that seemed to be what he used to be. Seemed. He didn’t care to confirm. The only thing he liked to remember from his distant past was his name, Xin, and that deep, gentle voice calling it out.
As the door slid open and the chaos revealed itself to them, the Einharjar sighed internally. From where he stood, he spied a member of his squad, Janus, leap off into the panicked crowd. Rolling his shoulders, Nezha let his suit blossom into its full, intimidating glory as he followed suit.
Since he had paid attention to the briefing, contrary to perhaps many’s expectations, he recalled that there was another squad already deployed out here. So, rather than take a share of their prey, Nezha headed straight for the big dome, where he was supposed to already have been in the first place, cutting through the mob of civilians with the ease of a knife through defenseless flesh.
Arriving at the building, Nezha stopped at the entrance to scan the situation. He spotted familiar figures scattered around the first two storeys, looking rather understaffed. Though he doubted they actually were. Even one to ten could easily be counted as good odds for the monsters that the Einharjar were.
Level one… three in place with Janus closing in from behind. Also, frankly, the whole place looked like a mess. Too much work. His eyes went to the floor above and a decision was made, putting an end to his second-long reconnaissance.
Just then, the sound of air being pierced came from his right. Nezha’s arm moved as if on auto-pilot, grabbing a swinging limb mid-motion. His head turned to stare at the assailant: a hooded man, whose arms had blades attached to it and would have ruined his helmet if he’d reacted slower. As he pulled the enemy by their offending limb, he raised his leg to smash into their face. The crunch of bones sounded, though it was hard to tell if it came from the man’s cracked skull or detached arm. As the body hit the floor, he stepped onto the man’s chest, caving it in; it was both to ensure death and as petty revenge for the disturbance.
Nezha disliked sneak attacks. Truly. Have some honor, man, a voice in his head, one he recognized as his own, sneered in a language he no longer spoke.
He continued inwards, making his way toward the staircase on the left… before deciding that stairs were too troublesome. With a short dash to gain velocity, he bounded off the pristine walls and jumped towards the second floor’s balcony, landing feet-first on the railings. Stabilizing himself in a sort of half-squat, his gaze went straight towards the densest area of enemies in the west-most side of the building.
Yet again, a sound alerted him to the presence of a hostile. This time, the click of a gun, someone preparing to shoot. With a click of his tongue, Nezha pushed off the railing, flipping and landing lightly onto the floor in front of the enemy. Taking advantage of the moment of surprise from the cultist, he let his right hand morph and swung it toward the man. The crescent blade cut cleanly through the man’s arm before coming back by his side, forming into a jagged, nasty-looking ring.
The smell of blood filled the air, causing Nezha to frown. There was a time when that smell would have had him reeling from flashbacks. He clicked his tongue again. He hated sneak attacks. Hated guns. Hated these people giving him murder to do when all he wanted was to get through this easy. As the man turned tail and tried to escape, Nezha swung again, this time severing the cultist's entire torso.
Morphing his left hand as well, Nezha turned back to the crowd he had been spying. A lone figure, also familiar, seemed to be caught in a struggle against several enemies. Nergal, if memory served him well, was that figure’s name. Reinforcement he was supposed to be and, therefore, reinforce he would do. He took off towards her.
Most days, he would be glad for the change of plans. Combat was one of his only joys in life, after all. But today, he was feeling lazy. And cutting people in half was not a job for a lazy man. Still, the training he’d received and the instincts of a soldier pushed him to stand up and prepare to disembark.
Or, at least, he assumed it was the instincts of a soldier since that seemed to be what he used to be. Seemed. He didn’t care to confirm. The only thing he liked to remember from his distant past was his name, Xin, and that deep, gentle voice calling it out.
As the door slid open and the chaos revealed itself to them, the Einharjar sighed internally. From where he stood, he spied a member of his squad, Janus, leap off into the panicked crowd. Rolling his shoulders, Nezha let his suit blossom into its full, intimidating glory as he followed suit.
Since he had paid attention to the briefing, contrary to perhaps many’s expectations, he recalled that there was another squad already deployed out here. So, rather than take a share of their prey, Nezha headed straight for the big dome, where he was supposed to already have been in the first place, cutting through the mob of civilians with the ease of a knife through defenseless flesh.
Arriving at the building, Nezha stopped at the entrance to scan the situation. He spotted familiar figures scattered around the first two storeys, looking rather understaffed. Though he doubted they actually were. Even one to ten could easily be counted as good odds for the monsters that the Einharjar were.
Level one… three in place with Janus closing in from behind. Also, frankly, the whole place looked like a mess. Too much work. His eyes went to the floor above and a decision was made, putting an end to his second-long reconnaissance.
Just then, the sound of air being pierced came from his right. Nezha’s arm moved as if on auto-pilot, grabbing a swinging limb mid-motion. His head turned to stare at the assailant: a hooded man, whose arms had blades attached to it and would have ruined his helmet if he’d reacted slower. As he pulled the enemy by their offending limb, he raised his leg to smash into their face. The crunch of bones sounded, though it was hard to tell if it came from the man’s cracked skull or detached arm. As the body hit the floor, he stepped onto the man’s chest, caving it in; it was both to ensure death and as petty revenge for the disturbance.
Nezha disliked sneak attacks. Truly. Have some honor, man, a voice in his head, one he recognized as his own, sneered in a language he no longer spoke.
He continued inwards, making his way toward the staircase on the left… before deciding that stairs were too troublesome. With a short dash to gain velocity, he bounded off the pristine walls and jumped towards the second floor’s balcony, landing feet-first on the railings. Stabilizing himself in a sort of half-squat, his gaze went straight towards the densest area of enemies in the west-most side of the building.
Yet again, a sound alerted him to the presence of a hostile. This time, the click of a gun, someone preparing to shoot. With a click of his tongue, Nezha pushed off the railing, flipping and landing lightly onto the floor in front of the enemy. Taking advantage of the moment of surprise from the cultist, he let his right hand morph and swung it toward the man. The crescent blade cut cleanly through the man’s arm before coming back by his side, forming into a jagged, nasty-looking ring.
The smell of blood filled the air, causing Nezha to frown. There was a time when that smell would have had him reeling from flashbacks. He clicked his tongue again. He hated sneak attacks. Hated guns. Hated these people giving him murder to do when all he wanted was to get through this easy. As the man turned tail and tried to escape, Nezha swung again, this time severing the cultist's entire torso.
Morphing his left hand as well, Nezha turned back to the crowd he had been spying. A lone figure, also familiar, seemed to be caught in a struggle against several enemies. Nergal, if memory served him well, was that figure’s name. Reinforcement he was supposed to be and, therefore, reinforce he would do. He took off towards her.
Ramjammer
Confirmed Memelord
"Does anyone have an explanation why this door isn't accepting my credentials?" She asked tersely, the question directed at no one in particular. Nergal, always prideful of her sense of efficiency, was not fond of having her time wasted. And there was no bigger time waster than things refusing to work where they reasonably should have been. A simple door being one such thing.
It made absolutely no sense given the importance of their task, and she could already feel the gears turning in her head. Someone down the line had either fucked up tremendously, or something was very wrong.
She'd made ready to interrogate the guards nearby, forcibly if necessary, to hell with decorum, when shit hit fan.
Nergal tensed instinctively as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The thought struck her then, that perhaps either someone employed at the Placidium or another guard had been behind the door and was trying to exit at the same time that she was attempting to enter. It was a thought Nergal would have been happy to entertain had she not been immediately proven wrong a split second before everything went to hell in a handbasket.
The seething red that filled her vision as a large WARNING! display overtook the cool blue of her H.U.D didn't do the noise justice. The shrieking interference nearly rattled her skull. It was too bad, and far too timely to be mere interference.
Nergal squeezed her eyes shut as if the action itself would block out the pain. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. No sooner than it had begun, the noise stopped altogether, replaced instead by the sounds of panicked screaming and the rushing footfalls of a crowd moving en masse.
Whatever chaos had erupted in that span of only a few short seconds, Nergal didn't get to take stock of. Andarta's voice was in her ear then. Panic had seeped into her normally chill tone, something that Nergal barely had time to register. All that she could make out was "They're here!" And suddenly a harsh impact sent her reeling.
The air was expelled from her lungs violently as she struck the tiled floor and Nergal's eyes snapped open to take in the sight of the man hunching over her. Her H.U.D flashed with DANGER! signs unhelpfully, and given that he was the most immediate threat, Nergal was treated to every feature of his horrid, sneering face in great detail great detail, courtesy of her visor's optics.
Who 'They' were was obvious. The hows and the whys concerning their presence were pointless to consider. The Sons of Pythagoras needed no reasons for what they did.
He raised a ham-sized fist over his head, it and his entire arm laced with carbon fiber weave throughout to strengthen his blows if her U.I readout was correct, and it usually was. Nergal recoiled, not in fear but in pure, undiluted revulsion. It was bad enough that she was forced to look at the bastard. His tattooed face and crooked smile left much to be desired. Nevermind that in an age where one could purchase whatever body parts they wanted, he somehow managed to be missing more than half of his teeth.
The fist came down, almost in slow motion from her vantage point. But Nergal knew that the man's augmented blow would be enough to split her helmet and her skull once it came down. Rage seeped into her gut, overriding the disgust overtaking her, and she inhaled sharply. The cultist let out a displeased grunt as his fist found no purchase in Nergal's skull the way that he'd undoubtedly hoped to.
Hexagonal panes of Metaphasium interlocked tightly to form a shimmering bulwark shielding Nergal's face, and the surly Einherjar got her shit together enough to taunt the man.
"You're coming at me with those cheap augments?! You either must be new, or a real dumbass."
Nergal didn't wait for his response. The man's feelings didn't matter, and she doubted that he had the mental capacity to defend himself, anyway. This was evidenced plainly by the fact that he punched her shield again and KEPT punching it. If the ugly cultist thought believing in himself and his fists was enough to get through to Nergal's face, she was happy to prove him fatally wrong.
He drew back once more, readying to bring both fists back down, and Nergal exhaled sharply. The interlocking hexagons forming the bulwark shifted sideways, edges pointing out, and Nergal propelled them forward, forcibly.
The energies that formed her shields did not persist forever. Only for as long as Nergal had the strength to keep them tangible. But certainly long enough to bury their hard edges into the skull of one hapless Cultist and kill him on the spot. She shoved his body away unceremoniously, huffing in equal parts exertion and exasperation.
"Probably should have augmented that idiot skull of yours, big boy." She groused, knowing that if he'd been smart enough to do so he would have been smart enough to not tackle an Einherjar in the first place.
Nergal stood in one fluid motion. No worse for the wear save for her slightly bruised ego. The dead man's remaining compatriots seemed marginally, more wary of her than their friend and eyed the woman warily.
Everywhere around them, there was nothing but chaos. The Sons of Pythagoras had entrenched themselves in the massive crowd quite better than she'd assumed and were taking full advantage of the panic they'd caused.
The two in front of her were not however, and Nergal immediately suspected that they were protecting someone or something just past the threshold of the Utility Door she'd failed to enter earlier.
Nergal sniffed derisively at the cultists, a blue glow suffused her left arm winding down her fist and towards the floor as a chain of Metaphasium took form.
"All right. Which of you is the second dumbest here?" She asked bluntly, only to recieve her answer a split second later. The man's charge was sloppy, though he at least had speed going for him. If it weren't for the shit show going on around her along with the other bullshit they'd pulled, Nergal would forgive herself for thinking that she was facing down nothing more than some rather bold thugs.
"Every organization needs its meat shields." She thought dourly as she snapped her arm forward to whip the chain towards the man's neck to wind around it. He skidded violently to a halt, his body instinctively jerking back and away from the percieved threat and ultimately betraying him. Nergal tightened the slack and yanked violently.
She'd put more thought into her own manifestations than most would reasonably expect. The Surge Augment was slightly more taxing than others and Nergal valued efficiency more than anything. The chain's links varied greatly between uses, and both friend and foe. Nergal had no friends in sight, and no intention of taking anyone alive after what she'd been put through. The small blades forming the chain found ample purchase in the flesh of the man's neck, and with a sharp tug his head found itself free from his shoulders.
"Janitorial is going to hate my ass." Nergal mused as the cultist's lifeless body hit the floor with a wet thud. The last living member of the ragtag squad began inching towards the door nervously, uncommon behavior for one of the Sons.
"Fucking Rookies." Nergal groused, well aware of the irony of her statement. The cultist seemed to suddenly remember that he had a gun holstered at his hip and that he should probably use it, and reached a fumbling hand for the grip. Nergal proved to be quicker on the draw and she tutted loudly as she loosed a round into the poor sap's chest.
The man, no...boy. He looked far too young and far too fearful as the light left his eyes for good. If he wasn't already in the ranks of the Legion, then Nergal considered herself having done him a favor. He hadn't yet lived long enough for his whole life to have been a comp let waste. she was almost envious.
Her H.U.D. pinged loudly and Nergal canted her head sideways to spot the figure rushing towards her. His credentials flashed briefly on her visor and Nergal gave the man a curt nod in greeting.
"Nezha, right? You're just in time for the party. But I've a more interesting venue in mind right now." She jerked her head towards the now open utility doorway.
"They were trying to protect either someone or something. If I recally correctly, there's a Security Console back there." She began, flicking a wrist to bind one end of her Metaphasium chain around the man's forearm. Its cool blue tones gave way to a vibrant red as Nergal fed what energy she had to the other Einherjar.
"Be a dear and give an old lady a hand would you?" She simpered humorously. "Ah, and try not to stray too far. Can't have you breaking the tether."
It made absolutely no sense given the importance of their task, and she could already feel the gears turning in her head. Someone down the line had either fucked up tremendously, or something was very wrong.
She'd made ready to interrogate the guards nearby, forcibly if necessary, to hell with decorum, when shit hit fan.
Nergal tensed instinctively as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The thought struck her then, that perhaps either someone employed at the Placidium or another guard had been behind the door and was trying to exit at the same time that she was attempting to enter. It was a thought Nergal would have been happy to entertain had she not been immediately proven wrong a split second before everything went to hell in a handbasket.
The seething red that filled her vision as a large WARNING! display overtook the cool blue of her H.U.D didn't do the noise justice. The shrieking interference nearly rattled her skull. It was too bad, and far too timely to be mere interference.
Nergal squeezed her eyes shut as if the action itself would block out the pain. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. No sooner than it had begun, the noise stopped altogether, replaced instead by the sounds of panicked screaming and the rushing footfalls of a crowd moving en masse.
Whatever chaos had erupted in that span of only a few short seconds, Nergal didn't get to take stock of. Andarta's voice was in her ear then. Panic had seeped into her normally chill tone, something that Nergal barely had time to register. All that she could make out was "They're here!" And suddenly a harsh impact sent her reeling.
The air was expelled from her lungs violently as she struck the tiled floor and Nergal's eyes snapped open to take in the sight of the man hunching over her. Her H.U.D flashed with DANGER! signs unhelpfully, and given that he was the most immediate threat, Nergal was treated to every feature of his horrid, sneering face in great detail great detail, courtesy of her visor's optics.
Who 'They' were was obvious. The hows and the whys concerning their presence were pointless to consider. The Sons of Pythagoras needed no reasons for what they did.
He raised a ham-sized fist over his head, it and his entire arm laced with carbon fiber weave throughout to strengthen his blows if her U.I readout was correct, and it usually was. Nergal recoiled, not in fear but in pure, undiluted revulsion. It was bad enough that she was forced to look at the bastard. His tattooed face and crooked smile left much to be desired. Nevermind that in an age where one could purchase whatever body parts they wanted, he somehow managed to be missing more than half of his teeth.
The fist came down, almost in slow motion from her vantage point. But Nergal knew that the man's augmented blow would be enough to split her helmet and her skull once it came down. Rage seeped into her gut, overriding the disgust overtaking her, and she inhaled sharply. The cultist let out a displeased grunt as his fist found no purchase in Nergal's skull the way that he'd undoubtedly hoped to.
Hexagonal panes of Metaphasium interlocked tightly to form a shimmering bulwark shielding Nergal's face, and the surly Einherjar got her shit together enough to taunt the man.
"You're coming at me with those cheap augments?! You either must be new, or a real dumbass."
Nergal didn't wait for his response. The man's feelings didn't matter, and she doubted that he had the mental capacity to defend himself, anyway. This was evidenced plainly by the fact that he punched her shield again and KEPT punching it. If the ugly cultist thought believing in himself and his fists was enough to get through to Nergal's face, she was happy to prove him fatally wrong.
He drew back once more, readying to bring both fists back down, and Nergal exhaled sharply. The interlocking hexagons forming the bulwark shifted sideways, edges pointing out, and Nergal propelled them forward, forcibly.
The energies that formed her shields did not persist forever. Only for as long as Nergal had the strength to keep them tangible. But certainly long enough to bury their hard edges into the skull of one hapless Cultist and kill him on the spot. She shoved his body away unceremoniously, huffing in equal parts exertion and exasperation.
"Probably should have augmented that idiot skull of yours, big boy." She groused, knowing that if he'd been smart enough to do so he would have been smart enough to not tackle an Einherjar in the first place.
Nergal stood in one fluid motion. No worse for the wear save for her slightly bruised ego. The dead man's remaining compatriots seemed marginally, more wary of her than their friend and eyed the woman warily.
Everywhere around them, there was nothing but chaos. The Sons of Pythagoras had entrenched themselves in the massive crowd quite better than she'd assumed and were taking full advantage of the panic they'd caused.
The two in front of her were not however, and Nergal immediately suspected that they were protecting someone or something just past the threshold of the Utility Door she'd failed to enter earlier.
Nergal sniffed derisively at the cultists, a blue glow suffused her left arm winding down her fist and towards the floor as a chain of Metaphasium took form.
"All right. Which of you is the second dumbest here?" She asked bluntly, only to recieve her answer a split second later. The man's charge was sloppy, though he at least had speed going for him. If it weren't for the shit show going on around her along with the other bullshit they'd pulled, Nergal would forgive herself for thinking that she was facing down nothing more than some rather bold thugs.
"Every organization needs its meat shields." She thought dourly as she snapped her arm forward to whip the chain towards the man's neck to wind around it. He skidded violently to a halt, his body instinctively jerking back and away from the percieved threat and ultimately betraying him. Nergal tightened the slack and yanked violently.
She'd put more thought into her own manifestations than most would reasonably expect. The Surge Augment was slightly more taxing than others and Nergal valued efficiency more than anything. The chain's links varied greatly between uses, and both friend and foe. Nergal had no friends in sight, and no intention of taking anyone alive after what she'd been put through. The small blades forming the chain found ample purchase in the flesh of the man's neck, and with a sharp tug his head found itself free from his shoulders.
"Janitorial is going to hate my ass." Nergal mused as the cultist's lifeless body hit the floor with a wet thud. The last living member of the ragtag squad began inching towards the door nervously, uncommon behavior for one of the Sons.
"Fucking Rookies." Nergal groused, well aware of the irony of her statement. The cultist seemed to suddenly remember that he had a gun holstered at his hip and that he should probably use it, and reached a fumbling hand for the grip. Nergal proved to be quicker on the draw and she tutted loudly as she loosed a round into the poor sap's chest.
The man, no...boy. He looked far too young and far too fearful as the light left his eyes for good. If he wasn't already in the ranks of the Legion, then Nergal considered herself having done him a favor. He hadn't yet lived long enough for his whole life to have been a comp let waste. she was almost envious.
Her H.U.D. pinged loudly and Nergal canted her head sideways to spot the figure rushing towards her. His credentials flashed briefly on her visor and Nergal gave the man a curt nod in greeting.
"Nezha, right? You're just in time for the party. But I've a more interesting venue in mind right now." She jerked her head towards the now open utility doorway.
"They were trying to protect either someone or something. If I recally correctly, there's a Security Console back there." She began, flicking a wrist to bind one end of her Metaphasium chain around the man's forearm. Its cool blue tones gave way to a vibrant red as Nergal fed what energy she had to the other Einherjar.
"Be a dear and give an old lady a hand would you?" She simpered humorously. "Ah, and try not to stray too far. Can't have you breaking the tether."
BLK
ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ!
Peitharchia, Upper Mezzanine
Lev watched as a person leaned over the low-lying railing before laying a rifle to rest in front of them. Before he knew it, he heard a muffled crack. While only a few seconds had passed they felt like forever to Lev. His stomach dropped and he began to move. He could make out the indistinct sounds of Woden shouting. He looked behind to see the Einherjar running up a set of stairs. In his head he would have asked him to wait, but instead he turned back and looked down. Where the Consul stood was now covered by some mechanism obviously meant to shield her from something like this.Smoke rose from a black hole in the structure, which meant the Consul likely hadn’t faired well. He looked back up on the off chance the person was still there, but he had clearly missed his chance. Lev snapped back and drew his weapon from behind him. He ran towards the stairs, tripping only halfway to the top. His rifle sat a few steps below him. It was just enough to make him groan in annoyance before grapping it. With his gun in hand once more Lev rounded the top and let out a small gasp. Waiting for him were an inappropriate number of people with hoods and excessive firepower. He was knocked down the stairs by a round that ricocheted off his shoulder.
This time he held onto his rifle, unhappily aware of the situation. He thought to himself, almost as if speaking to another person, “Who prepares this much? It’s rather wasteful isn’t it?” He would have agreed, had he not caught himself almost speaking out loud. His short comedic relief was cut short when he landed back on a landing. “At least I didn’t get shot twice!” Lev immediately turned and ran to the bottom of the stairs before turning a corner and kneeling down. He readied himself and focused on the sounds he could hear above. After a few seconds, he heard some of the hooded figures calling out orders accompanied by a few sets of feet echoing down the stairway. They approached cautiously, likely suspecting his location. Lev poked his rifle out, firing at the first thing he saw.
The thud and sliding of a body hitting the stairs and returning fire told Lev it was time to get back behind the corner. He ducked back and waited until he heard footsteps again. He popped his head out, letting a few rounds out, and returning to his perch. He repeated this a few more times until there were no new feet pounding on the stairs. He stepped out, accepting whatever would face him. Lev was pleasantly surprised by the lack of resistance. He began to slowly make his way back up the stairs, moving past three or four downed bodies before he could begin to see above the stairs. In one bold action he poked his head and rifle above the cusp of the stairs, sweeping his gaze across. This time he was not met by any bullets or bodies, so he stepped up. He was shocked to see a number of people were dressed in flowing gowns nonchalantly strolling through a series of blown out utility exits. He lowered his weapon and simply stared for a moment.
“First the hooded people, now this? What has the world come to?” Lev shook himself again before turning to look the other way. He began to push forwards through an eerily empty hallway. The flickering of shattered lights and broken cabling gave him a few scares, but nothing as close as the group he encountered earlier. The rambling in his head was interrupted again when he found the body of a dead Einherjar. Sigma Yellow. Lev was beginning to worry; From uninvited thoughts to the dead Einherjar, he was beginning to think he was in over his head.He took in a breath and paused. “You should probably call in.” He assessed his situation and calmed himself down.
“Peitharchia calling in. I- uh- I don’t really know what’s going on. I can’t confirm the Consul’s status, but I am currently in pursuit of the shooter. I’ve lost contact with Woden, so I’m going to assume that he’s out of action based on the resistance I’ve run into. Last thing—I found someone from Sigma Yellow, and they were- uh- you know, dead. Things could be worse, so I’m going to try to figure out what’s going on and find the shooter. If you get this, try to get back. Not really sure but I think our comms might be down. Either way try not to die.” He said. The whining of his microphone cut off, letting him know that he could at least send out. Whatever was going on clearly was much bigger than he thought. But at least he wasn’t dead.
CkSmalling
In the End, Death gets us all
EREBUS
[Prelude]"Who do you think this is sir?" A soldier asked as he placed a barely recognizable body on a table.
"That is not our job. Just place the body and leave" The other soldier retorted back. They placed it down gently and left the room.
"Looks like we have a fine specimen Commander. Looks like we are lucky we found him first" An old man with a Cuban cigar said as he examined by frail corpse on the table.
" I agree. But we have to be careful with this one. Just a gut feeling. Alright, begin memory extraction." He looked at the scientist at the control panel.
"Sir!" The scientist said and pushed on a silver button. Suddenly, the screens lit up and showed scenes of the corpse's previous life.
"Looks like we are very lucky. He used to command a unit in his previous life. And he was a damn good one. A perfect record based on this." He stopped a small screen with contained statistics of his missions ans slid it to the commander.
The commander looked at it with great scrutiny and smiled. "He knows his job. Looks like he took high risk missions and calculated the odds of success. If they were in his favor, he would do it. Smart man."
"And after his final mission, he was taken hostage for the lives of his crew. He was killed by...huh...his own supervisor." He paused the screen and passed it to the unknown military figure.
"Looks like we have someone who distrust military figure. Can't blame him though after being tortured for months. What happened to the wife?" "The shattering?"
"Well looks like we can either tell him that his revenge plot will hit a dead end or bait him with a string on a cheese, that the commander is alive. But baiting can lead him to distrust us more. He is a definite war asset. What do you think commander?"
"It's better we give him a trail and leave him to uncover alone." The commander said with a hand under his chin.
"Sounds good. Revive him. I want reports monthly."
"Yes sir." The commander saluted as the authority left the room. After he left, the tension left the room with him. After everyone has calmed down, he looked at the corpse. 'Alright. Let's revive this war asset."
'Sir!"
"That is not our job. Just place the body and leave" The other soldier retorted back. They placed it down gently and left the room.
"Looks like we have a fine specimen Commander. Looks like we are lucky we found him first" An old man with a Cuban cigar said as he examined by frail corpse on the table.
" I agree. But we have to be careful with this one. Just a gut feeling. Alright, begin memory extraction." He looked at the scientist at the control panel.
"Sir!" The scientist said and pushed on a silver button. Suddenly, the screens lit up and showed scenes of the corpse's previous life.
"Looks like we are very lucky. He used to command a unit in his previous life. And he was a damn good one. A perfect record based on this." He stopped a small screen with contained statistics of his missions ans slid it to the commander.
The commander looked at it with great scrutiny and smiled. "He knows his job. Looks like he took high risk missions and calculated the odds of success. If they were in his favor, he would do it. Smart man."
"And after his final mission, he was taken hostage for the lives of his crew. He was killed by...huh...his own supervisor." He paused the screen and passed it to the unknown military figure.
"Looks like we have someone who distrust military figure. Can't blame him though after being tortured for months. What happened to the wife?" "The shattering?"
"Well looks like we can either tell him that his revenge plot will hit a dead end or bait him with a string on a cheese, that the commander is alive. But baiting can lead him to distrust us more. He is a definite war asset. What do you think commander?"
"It's better we give him a trail and leave him to uncover alone." The commander said with a hand under his chin.
"Sounds good. Revive him. I want reports monthly."
"Yes sir." The commander saluted as the authority left the room. After he left, the tension left the room with him. After everyone has calmed down, he looked at the corpse. 'Alright. Let's revive this war asset."
'Sir!"
"Can you use your arms?" A voice resonated inside a room. I slowly open my eyes only to close them a few seconds later cause of the bright light. I open my eyes again and try to adjust to the light. "I..m s..o..rr..y" a raspy voice escaped my mouth. I loo around the room and see nothing but white walls and machines above my head. My heart stared racing fast as he feared medical theaters. He looked around for a way to escape but there was none.
"Relax Mr. King, you are in safe hands. Please stop panicking." The voice said but with a cool voice. He stopped looking around and closed his eyes and calmed his heart rate. He opened his eyes again and tried to remain calm for the remainder of the exchange. "Excellent work Mr. King. Now my previous question, can you move your hands?"
"I lost my hands when I was killed. I have no upper and...." He tried to show his stump only to see what he thought he had lost. "I...I..I have....I have....ha..ha....han....hands??" He had a mixed reactions and visibly perplexed? He looked at the black mirror on top "How?"
"The Metaphasium appears to have condensed into your arms. It's likely because you were a Sniper Captain, according to your memory fragments. These arms will make you one again, with the proper training. Do you accept?"
He had more questions than answers right now but this was not the time. He tried to move only for his legs to respond to his thoughts. "And I can walk now. He stood up, using the bed as a support structure and looked at the mirror. "you have restored my limbs and gave me a new life. Yes, I accept. Now I have no grounds to say no. Besides I have no idea what would happen when I say no so I won't risk it." He tried his absolute best to try and stand but to no avail.
"I appreciate your assessment and honesty. But for now, relax. Your body is still trying to accept the new modifications done to it. Rest on the table and you will be transported to med bay and then to physiotherapy. Your training will start in one month. Your new name will be Erebus, Lord of Shadows. Keep your actual name to yourself from now on."
He looked at the table and slowly climbed on it again, like a fawn trying to get his standing. "Yes sir."
[Present Day]
King woke up feeling all meh. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes. He just stared at the ceiling for no reason. "Still can't dream? Well I'll be damned."He woke up and opened the window shutters. "This view will never get old." He said as he looked outside at the busy metropolis. This place didn't come cheap as here, money talks. Luckily, his training and assignments were his source of income for the last few months and he could not been happy. He took a quick shower before steeping out. On his way outside of his door, his house AI produced an email notification.
"You have mail: High Priority." He did a 180 and went to his computer. After scanning the details, he let out a sigh. "looks like there are no assignments for now." He took his jacket and made his way to the destination.
The High Placidium was one very beautiful building. The stories of this building were shy to this glorious magnificence. He stepped in and was quickly swallowed by the swarm of people trying to see Her Majesty The Queen. He produced his badge and was ushered to a different location. He was just told to keep an eye on the surroundings and also enjoy the speech.
He looked around and saw what was probably other Einherjars other than him. He didn't rule out the possibility of others but during his training he didn't meet others like him. He was given a small dossier of everyone attending the meeting so he made a mental note of everyone in the building. He didn't like being handed missions he had no briefing on so this was all new to him. He looked around and saw nothing strange. Then the crown started to scream in joy and he looked up.
Beauty was not a word that could cover the sight he was seeing at the moment. There were no words that could simply define The Queen. She was beyond godly existence, if they belonged to this world anyway. "Wonder if she is single though." He found himself saying that out loud. He is a real comedian that one for sure. He listened to the speech the Queen was given until the sound of an explosion echoed the atrium. He covered his eyes for a moment before surveying the area.
Screams echoed through out and he found himself staring for far too long. He looked around and saw people in gowns rushing towards the center. He remembered he was given the radio frequency so he turned it on to get an update. Before he could even speak, it was filled with chatter as to who is who and what happened. He ducked down when a shot missed him by mere inches. He looked as to where the shot was coming from and saw it was from his right. He changed his right arm into a sub machine gun and calmed his breath.
"Three..no four enemies approaching my direction. Suppress their movement with blind-fire and change locations." He opened his eyes and just fired wildly towards their general direction. They scattered, one being injured. He stood up, shot a volley of bullets towards the injured person, killing him instantly and slid towards a different cover. He repeated the same technique again and moved closer to them. He morphed his right hand back and a shotgun appeared in his left arm. Close range for now before changing again. He peeked and saw only three remaining all in different positions, all under different kinds of cover. He calculated the best possible route. He closed his eyes for a second to wait for the hooded enemies to stop firing and made his move.
He vaulted out of his position and fired shots at the last enemy, to give a sense of misdirection to the others. One foolishly popped his head out of cover. That was the last thing he did. He slid into another covering position and waited for a few seconds before peeping. Two left. One was a few meters before him and the last one was a few ways ahead. "Good". He ran firing shots at the first hooded individual and when he was near his position, he slid past him and shot him at point blank range. hastily got his footing and snapped into a low cover. "Time to put this sniper to the test. He morphed his left hand back to normal and combined both his arms to form a sniper rifle. Since he was in low cover, he had support since the weapon was heavy. He looked through the scope waiting for a perfect opportunity to pull the trigger.
He fired a warning shot and shouted in a panicked voice, "Fuck fuck fuck fuck.. Jammed?" The hooded figure, thinking he had the opportunity, stepped out of cover. He stood still for a few seconds before collapsing to the ground, headless. He exhaled loudly as he morphed his hands back. He stood up and observed around. Chaos was still ongoing but looked under control. He heard someone over the comms chasing the shooter.
"Peitharchia, My name is Erebus. Send me your coordinates and I will catch up with you shortly. I will provide my assistance to catch the shooter. Safer for two people to pursue the gunman.
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