Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Cath
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Cath So this is what we're up against...

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Hangar 147, Stavanger Interplanetary Spaceport, Norway, Earth



“Passengers, make your way to designated evacuation points. Security to Terminals five and six. Sikkerhet til terminal fem og seks takk...”

Nearby klaxons blared out these hurried announcements over the spaceport’s tannoy system. It was early morning, and dark outside. Red emergency lights flashed over the concourse’s usual sterile white ambiance. The hangar system used by aviation MRO outfits and private companies was bolted onto the side of the commercial spaceport, but was still accessible to the mass of international passengers via a long concourse.

Some of these civilians had evidently gotten lost and were milling around next to industrial equipment and blue overalled engineers. Many had now realised there were charter craft, ready to go, in the vicinity. Confused shouting and the sound of boots on deckplate echoed through the open blast doors into Hangar 147 where the Jotunheim sat.



Most of the crew had slept aboard their craft on the final night before their extended test voyage, but some of them were still missing. Zeynap ‘Zey’ Kadıoğlu stood in the ship’s narrow bridge with a communicator pressed close to her lips.

“J147 actual to all crew, come in! We are launching in fifteen minutes, make sure you’re here or we leave without you. Over.”

Zey glanced out of the Jotunheim’s reinforced forward window. With a rolling clank, the large hangar bay doors were opening to expose a moody pre-dawn vista. Stavanger Spaceport edged out onto a fjord, where the installation’s lights danced over black waters and rugged cliffs.



She turned away, looked at the empty seats on her bridge, and sighed. She opened a view of the external cameras on her terminal and took in the pallets of supplies sitting on the floor, waiting to be loaded. The Jotunheim’s loading doors were open and the ramp was down. Zey activated her communicator again.

“Vigdis, are you still aboard? Come in. I need someone to get those pallets into our cargo bay. Find me a deckhand and some loading bots.”
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Starlance
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‘Like hell I’m going out there to get shot.’ Was the first thing that came to Vigdis’ mind before the part of her brain that never left the military got behind the controls. The hangar doors weren’t open yet, which meant the ship was not going anywhere without her if she kept track of that and if whoever the attackers were made it to the hangar now, she’d be screwed anyway regardless of if she was on board or in the hangar. “On it.” She gave up trying to find a plate carrier in the armory - someone was going to be complaining about ‘misuse’ of service access codes when this all blows over - and headed back out, leaving the Jackal and her service rigging by the loading gate. If the attackers got to them, she’d stand little chance in a fight anyway. At least if she was unarmed she wouldn’t get shot right out of the gate if the unknown attackers’ goal wasn’t killing everything that had something to do with the ship. At least she assumed the Jotunheim was the reason they were there.

The cold was something she never got used to. Having spent most of her life in Venus’ underground habitats or hopping between wrecks aboard the Aurora, both of which being self-contained environments, bad weather was never an issue. “Captain, do we have any clue how many or how far away from here they are or if we’re getting any help this week?” She asked as she reached the door leading to the office that handled loading and unloading. At least Norway had a standing army, unlike her family’s native Iceland, so there was cause for some hope, she thought as she started banging on the door. ”Hey? Hey guy! Open up!” Of course he couldn’t hear her, it was a blast door meant to protect the office’s occupants if something went wrong with the ship in the hangar. Running back to her things to get a pipe wrench and back to the office made her feel like Pheidippides, if Pheidippides wore grease-stained coveralls, and by the time she made it back to the office, the cold air was burning her trachea like she was breathing ground glass. Two years out of the service did a number on her fitness, she was getting a gym membership first thing in the morning, she promised herself as she was let into the office before explaining the problem to the poor intern she found inside. “Found a guy who can operate the loaders, on our way back to the ship.” She managed to report back to captain Kadıoğlu as she tried to catch up on the oxygen debt.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by EliteCommander
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The bustle in the streets of the small mountain town was hitting its peak now that dusk was settling on the landscape. It was a place called Ertiseda, nestled in a pass between two mountains, near to the border of the Ascendancy and Mythadia. It was, for the most part, a trading post that had sprung up naturally along one of the roads leading from Mythadia directly to Arcaeda. It was in Ascendancy territory and majority Tekeri, though this close to the border, there was a fair Glen population in town. The two populations had something of a convenient arrangement for how they ran their town. In the day, Glen were mostly the ones out and about, running their shops and going about their daily tasks. Overnight, it was the nocturnal Tekeri who took over the same shops and did their jobs in the darkness. No matter what time of day a traveler arrived, every service the town provided was always available. Dusk and dawn were the only times of day where the whole town tended to be awake at the same time, right as one group was getting up and ready to start their day, but before the other was ending theirs.

Kareet had been speaking with a Glen at his produce stall in the market. He was middle-aged, somewhat unkempt fur, though still…acceptably presentable. His antlers looked to be about halfway through with growing in for the season. A lot of the Glen around them looked to be closing up their stalls for the evening as the Tekeri came in to replace them, so Kareet would likely be one of his last customers for the evening.

“And you’re sure it was to the north?” Kareet asked.

The Glen gave an emphatic nod. “Oh, yeah, yeah. An Iriad comes strollin’ through town lookin’ like a bonfire, that’s not somethin’ ya miss. Didn’t make much sense to me; didn’t think those plants liked fire all that much. Innkeep made ‘em prove they could keep from burnin’ the place down before she’d let ‘em in, I ‘member. We still had some boys pull up some water buckets from the creek, but…well, they didn’t cause no trouble. Didn’t stay long, neither.”

Kareet tilted her head slightly, looking off to the north. “I see. Do you have any idea why they just went off into the mountains? There are no roads leading off that way.”

The Glen shrugged. “No clue. They didn’t come in off the road either, though. Just wandered in out of the woods from the south, from what I heard.”

“Hmm, well, thank you.” Kareet replied, giving a moment to take a look around the stall. After a few seconds, she pointed to a hard-shelled fruit about the size of her fist. “I’ll take one of those.” She said, mostly as a courtesy for taking his time.

Kareet slid over a pair of copper coins, then slipped the fruit into her backpack before moving on. She weaved through the crowd, ignoring the rest of the market around her as she made her way out of town from the north side. Pausing briefly, she gave a look up to the forest-covered mountainside, and the steep climb that would be ahead of her. “Why couldn’t they just use the road?” She muttered to herself.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Blizz
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The night was coming, and the air was growing colder. Shirik had left the town of Ertiseda a few hours ago, having stopped to rest and check their map. The usual odd looks and skittish trepidation had been expected, but Shirik was just lucky they stayed dry after the talk with that innkeeper back in town. Stars began to come out as the distant moon soon would rise into the sky. Shirik had been all over the world of Kanth-Aramek by now, but the mountains were always a sight to behold. Even in the quiet company of an eternal flame, they felt at home when they could travel from place to place. Shirik threw their hood overhead as the sky began to darken. It was easier to travel at night when they didn't glow as brightly.

It had been a very long time since Shirik first emerged from that cave, since they became a new person altogether. Since then, their life became much simpler than their days in the Iriad. Walking from place to place and lending a burning hand to those who could benefit from it, and resting for the sake of quiet contemplation were most of what Shirk did. They had considered going to the Ascendancy to make a life there, but that was a decision that they never made. Shirik took a turn off the regular road, and made their way up the mountains into the woods. They were always so peaceful at night.

In one hand, Shirik held a staff made of wood and small stones of various origins. It was part walking stick, for trekking through unexplored places, and part magic instrument, for when Shirik needed it. In the growing gloom of the forest, Shirik glowed like a warm candle. Anyone following them would be able to track them easily if they paid attention, as they had their guard down enough to let the flames do as they pleased under the cloak they wore. Eventually, Shirik came to an open spot between the trees, a meadow of undisturbed grass and flowers atop a peak overlooking a valley beneath. Not a sound could be heard, and overlooking Shirik's surroundings was a cloudless, black sky glittering with stars and the moon of Kanth-Aramek. It was a beautiful night, and it was quiet.

Shirik liked quiet.

Shirik lowered their hood, and walked to the edge of the cliff they stood over, breathing in the night air. The flames that seeped from under their skin seemed to settle and burn more gently at the sight of the sky. There were many things that irritated Shirik, and many things that pushed them into a jagged mindset all too easily these days, after the things they endured. Anyone who had to fight and claw their way to survival had a short fuse. But it was evenings like these, so peaceful and wonderous, that reminded Shirik that they were still here in the present. Life had moved on, and they were there to catch up with it. They were alive. Shirik bent down and sat on the ground, with a tree at their back. On their right was the moon, and on the left was the path they took up here. Shirik's cloak had come open, and yet the forest was untouched by the fire that rolled against their skin when they touched the forest floor. They shut their eyes, and let everything fall away. Twere at peace.

At least, they were until they heard a twig snap behind them.

Shirik's left arm shot upwards, pointing straight in the direction of the sound, as they made a gesture with their hand. Ring finger curled inward, thumb pointed to the ground, with their remaining fingers pointing outwards in a trident shape. Suddenly, a streak of brilliant sparks was sent in the direction that their middle finger was facing, splattering against a nearby tree. Oddly enough however, the tree was completely unharmed. Not even a trace of singed bark, as if nothing happened. The rest of Shirik's body had stayed completely still until after this spell was cast, at which point they turned their head to face whatever had followed them, their eyes flickered like glowing coals from a furnace in the moonlight.

"Show yourself."
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by EliteCommander
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In her time tracking this being, Kareet had pieced together rumors and story into a picture of who they might have been. Something like an Iriad, yet also the antithesis of one. To any people, fire was, of course, dangerous, yet there was a dichotomy to it. Fire was also an invaluable tool to most civilizations. It allowed them to cook their food, provide heat in places where warmth was a commodity, and to forge metals to their needs. However, the Iriad had, traditionally, little use for most of a fire’s utility. To them, there was nothing left of it but a threat to what they held most dear. Curiously, this was not the first they had heard of this “burning Iriad”. Stories of Iriad imbued with flame went back centuries, even all the way back to the start of the Kolodon Empire in some cases. Though, Kareet was skeptical of those claims. In any case, aside from some cautionary fables from the Myriad, these stories did not necessarily paint this being, or beings, as a danger. Especially not the more recent rumors.

In the dark of the night, the light of this being’s flame had been like a beacon to the eyes of a Tekeri like Kareet. She did not hide on approach, at least not after she set her gaze clearly upon the being. This was, undoubtedly, her quarry. She approached openly, stepping into the area illuminated by the flame. Her eyes were visible first, as with how the light reflected from within them, all four were given a piercing red glow. Once in the light, though, it was easier to see the Tekeri’s features. She was towering in height compared to the average Iriad. Most likely, the being would not be able to tell on sight whether she was male or female, as Tekeri had no readily apparent features to distinguish one from the other that an outsider’s eyes would be able to notice. At least, not without many years living among them.

The way Kareet carried herself was, in some ways, an interesting contradiction. She was clearly in good physical shape, like a soldier or explorer more than a farmer or laborer. Yet, apart from some of the feathers just above her scaled feet, the rest of her plumage seemed far too clean for that. One would have to spend a not inconsiderable amount of time washing and preening to keep their feathers clear of dirt and dust picked up on a long road. All she wore was a rugged leather traveler’s backpack, with no jewelry or other decorations that might have been popular in the cities, yet her beak was immaculate, shining in the fire light as if polished. Such a practice tended to be restricted to at least the somewhat wealthy, due to the cost of the oils they used.

“There is no risk of violence here, unless you are the one to create it.” Kareet answered, speaking in S’toric. “Would you grant a traveler’s request to rest in your camp?”
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Steel Legion
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Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector

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Fret walked down the cold metal lining with the artificial air of the space ship corridor. It was a cramped corridor.

Shortly, he found what was to be his quarters.

Walking inside the brushed steel miniature room,
a small bed that slid out from a drawer he unslung his survival burgen and sat it alongside one wall. The door closed behind him with a reassuring k-shuuk. "distinctly nordic", he thought.

As he was early for his flight, a flight that might last months or even years he decided to make himself at home in his new room. Without taking his boots off he slid the bed back into its drawer half way and sat down with the back of his head resting on the frame. He began to do his meditation. Closing his eyes with legs crossed he tried to find the golden light. The one that had been left in his burnt retinas.

After he had been injured by a star grenade he had had to spend weeks in convalescence, left with the golden light. At first it had been painful and had kept him crying out and sweating all night long. After about a week he had decided he just had to make peace with it. And the pain had subsided.

So there it was, the golden light. It was getting harder to find now as he had more distractions in his life. But he had gotten used to it. Indeed it actually seemed comforting.

Not many people would volunteer for such a journey that would last years, possibly a lifetime on an alien planet.
Especially one that just involved checking rocks constantly and logging mining sites. Sites to be sold to future corporations that likely didnt exist yet. Many burnouts would be aboard this ship, he knew.
"I wonder what it would be like to meet them. Their stories."

When the claxon started going off his eyes shot open. Including his cybernetic third eye implanted in the middle of his head. What on earth could this be? He heard the announcement over the tannoy. "Well" he thought "I am not security personnel so i wont be troubled with it". Feeling uneasy he got up and slid the small metal tab on his door to the locked position. "There, i cant be killed now..." he thought.



After a little while he started to pace up and down the miniature room. I say, pace, it was more like one two steps and turn and then another two steps and turn.

"But what about the others...?"

After a little while he moved over to the survival burgan and opened the rifle holster and slid out the rifle. Nervously he digged around to find a small box in his backpack. He popped open a cardboard cartridge box by crusing it with the palm of his hand on the bedside... and began thumbing cartridges down into the circular magazine. One-two-three. He listened out for anything dangerous outside.

"Bloody ME, its not like i havent seen enough killing to last TEN lifetimes." he cursed quietly.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Blizz
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The voice that Shirik heard was of a Tekeri, apparently. She was dressed rather well, and had the put-togetherness of a low noble. By her appearance, the burning being could tell who she was. Shirik studied the Tekeri's presence for a moment. Groomed feathers, unbothered body language, and yet she didn't look like a noblewoman. There didn't seem to be a weapon in her hands, but she could've been a mage if Shirik's assumption was correct.

After a long pause, they finally broke the silence. "You are from the Ascendancy." They said, more for the sake of implying it was obvious than asking. Their voice was like sandpaper against wet stone, yet distinctly resembled that of an Iriad of great age. "It is unwise to stalk someone. Dangerous, in fact." Those eyes were incapable of expressing emotion like other creatures, but it was not difficult to perceive that Shirik did not appreciate the sudden intrusion. Still, someone followed Shirik this far for a reason, and they knew it would be easy to fend off someone such as this, who had no weapon or was actively attacking them.

Whoever this woman was, they weren't a simple bandit. The Ascendancy did not send people after specific individuals for nothing. "...Sit." They said, agreeing to the woman's request.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Cath
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Cath So this is what we're up against...

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“Captain, do we have any clue how many or how far away from here they are or if we’re getting any help this week?”


"Negative. ATC is kind of busy. I'll try again, over." Zey shot back, before opening up a secure line with the control centre in charge of dispatching and receiving craft.

“SISTraC, this is J147 requesting again for immediate clearance to launch. Please advise on the situation on the ground. Over.” Zey was left hanging for a moment. The bridge door slide open - *shuuk* - and when the Captain looked back she saw Bosko Janković entering. The short and heavy-set, grey bearded Serb gave her a friendly wave and a smile before shuffling past her to check something in the Pilot’s chair. Zey patted him on the shoulder like a feverish person might to check they were actually real.

“J147 this is SISTraC.” Came the fuzzy reply over comms.

“You are NOT cleared for expedited takeoff, say again do NOT launch. Terminals 2, 3 & 4 are Code Black - Home Guard are en route. Head to the designated secure area and wait for further instructions.”

Zey immediately fired back: “SISTraC that's a negative, we cannot do that. We’re IN terminal 4 and have sensitive property on board. Requesting urgent security assistance.”

“J147 all security assets are tied up right now. Leave your craft and head for safety.”

Zey terminated the connection with the traffic control centre and shouted “FUCK!” at the back of Bosko’s head as he made last minute adjustments. He didn’t even look around when he spoke back.

“What is plan boss? We tooling up and busting out of here on foot?”

Zey considered her options for a couple of seconds.

“No, get ready to launch. We’re moving the Jo.”

She clicked her communicator back on to talk to Vigdis.

“Vigdis be advised - hostiles may be in the terminal and heading this way. Soldiers are coming but no timelines yet. Keep your eyes open and move fast. We need everything packed up and ready to move yesterday.”

When the message came back that Vigdis had secured loading bots to get the last of the cargo on board, Zey moved for the door.

“Bosko you have the Bridge.”

“Aye Captain.”

She had barely made it two steps out the door when she was speaking again.

“Come in Engineering, give me a sitrep, over.”




A large number of people were fleeing down the concourse now. A crowd of a few dozen had gathered outside Hangar 147, and the people at the front were arguing with the Tamerlane security guard and a hastily erected blockade in the doorway. They couldn’t close the blast doors because members of the crew were still making their way over, so the guard had to stand firm and reason with these people to keep moving to designated assembly points. AKA anywhere but here.

Suddenly, the sound of distant gunfire mingled with the blaring klaxons and announcements. The crowd started shouting even louder and jostling forward. The guard went for his stun gun but got pushed over. People charged into the hangar bay towards the Jotunheim.



The sound of shouting could be heard even inside, on account of the open cargo doors. Zey, fresh off from Engineering, asked:

“What's happening out there? Someone give me a visual!”
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by EliteCommander
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EliteCommander and Blizz





With a nod, Kareet removed her backpack and set it down beside her. She took a few moments to pull from it a blanket, unroll it, then lay it out gingerly on the ground in front of her. She sat herself down cross-legged on the blanket, careful to keep her feathers out of the dirt. Her gaze settled down on the Iriad before her, examining them. “Indeed, though I shall offer a counterpoint. How would it be that anyone could hope to meet you, specifically, without stalking you?” She remarked, accompanied by a chuckle.

Kareet leaned forward, her brief moment of levity fading quickly from her voice. “I am Kareet of Arcaeda, Seeker of the Order of Sages. Allow me to make it known from the start that my purpose here is nothing more or less than the pursuit of knowledge. You are…a rumor, a myth in some places. It is a courtesy we would like to extend to you to allow you to tell your own story, free from…misinterpretation.”

Shirik was familiar with the Seekers. They were the scholars of the Ascendancy. Its scribes, its scientists, and its researchers. Shirik had never met one of them however, and hadn’t expected to. ”A myth. In what stretch of the Ascendancy do they whisper of someone who simply minds their business?” Shirik asked, slightly more passive aggressive than they really intended to come off as.

“You would be surprised how far and wide stories can travel, especially given time.” Kareet answered, though her gaze was still taking in all the little details of the Iriad’s unique form. “A caravan from Mythadia made it to Arcaeda a few weeks ago, speaking of an Iriad who was ‘one with fire’ that had been seen near the border. A fantastic contradiction, to most. Yet, not actually an original tale. Our records have stories from hundreds…a thousand years back that tell tales of a burning Iriad. Reclusive, mysterious, and evidently…quite real.”

Pausing a moment, Kareet straightened her posture slightly. “Of course, the notion that all of these disparate stories could refer to the same individual is quite far-fetched. I am, I would say, curious what might cause the people from these stories to break so sharply from their people’s traditional attitudes towards fire.”

It was true that all of those stories spoke of the same individual. Shirik was no longer the isolated hermit they once were. Their presence in the world was bound to elicit curiosity, but hearing someone say that stories stretched across time, all the way back to the Day of Black Clouds was something Shirik hadn’t expected. Being told that stories were written down since that day took the aggression out of them somewhat.

Shirik paused, and took a deep breath before continuing. ”Your presence is abrupt. I expected to be alone. My anger is unfounded. Forgive me.”

Kareet shrugged lightly, gesturing towards her own body. “I am unharmed.” She answered. Not an uncommon expression for accepting an apology, in Arcaeda. “From my understanding, you move frequently, and unpredictably. Were there a way to find you in a less surprising fashion, I would have chosen it. I am not sure if you are familiar with the Seekers, or the Order of Sages, but I genuinely just wish to learn from you.”

”You followed me looking for objective understanding. As you can see. I do in fact, exist. The stories are real. There is an Iriad who is one with fire that walks Kanth-Aramek, and they are sat before you.”

Shirik fidgeted with that magic staff that lay across their knees. ”I am more than one thousand years old. I did not know the accounts stretch that far back..”

Kareet tilted her head, raising the brows of both of her right eyes. The claim this Iriad made had not been entirely unexpected, but at the same time, it felt like it could not be possible. For now, Kareet had to press forward with cautious skepticism. “Those accounts fall well into the category of myth. Fables. A story of an Iriad who merged with flame in the wake of the Day of Black Clouds? Well, most scholars today see that as story meant to highlight the cruelty of the Kolodon Empire. And a warning of what could happen if they could not stop them. At the time, at least, flame was considered a dangerous evil to the Iriad. Moreso than it is today. A story about how the Kolodon could force this evil thing into them seemed like a story meant to motivate them to fight harder. But you are saying that this story is…more than a fable?”

”I am the one these myths speak of. I was there. The day they first set fire to our home… I would not have made it out of there alive had this not happened to me.”

Shirik raised an arm up, the wood that made their skin was charred, and broken around their joints. Their hands were completely bare, and made of faintly glowing endomatter underneath. ”The flame embraced me, and it changed what I was. I became something else. The antithesis to my people. I left when the fires dwindled, and I did not go back.”

There was just a brief interruption from Kareet, once it felt appropriate. “Forgive me, if you would permit me, I would like to record this.” Reaching into her backpack beside her, Kareet produced a leather-bound notebook. With her hand held above her backpack, she rubbed her first and middle fingers together, then flicked her wrist. From one of the pouches on the side, her metal fountain pen magnetized up into her hand. From the Iriad’s perspective, either a show of Force or Lightning magic.

“If I might ask, do you have a name?” Kareet questioned, opening up her notebook to a blank page.

Shirik could not squint, but they had something akin to scrutiny written on their face. ”My name is Shirik. You’re a Psion.” The term “Psion” was a distinctive term some people used to describe those who were skilled in the domain of Force. Few people were familiar with magic, and even fewer knew of the terminology.

Already, Kareet began to write down what Shirik had told her so far, though after a few moments, she divided her attention enough to give them an answer. “Psion? Hmm, not a common term, really. Not within the usual schools of study, at least. You must be well-traveled. But no, I am not. You are close, though.”

Holding up one hand, Kareet flicked her thumb across the talons on her fingers, prompting sparks of electricity to arc between them for a few seconds. “You are plainly a being of magic, and I believe it fair that I give you the courtesy of knowing the same about me. So we both can approach this encounter on equal ground.”

”A Stormcaller. Yes, I am familiar with that magic. I was… Likely the first living creature in Kanth-Aramek to experience any form of it. History tells us that magic has only existed for the last four centuries at most. The Day of Black Clouds was six centuries earlier. We did not know of such a thing, and I did not call it magic until I heard others refer to it as such. When I rejoined the world after six hundred years in isolation, the world seemed to have caught up to me. I sought the understanding that others would have hopefully come to, in order to fill the gaps in my own. Therefore, I am the first, and oldest master of the domain of Heat.”

There was a brief delay as Kareet wrote. While focused on that task, she did not give much in the way of a reaction. It was only once she lifted her pen that she let her curiosity express itself. “To claim an awakening so early in history is exceptional. It has never been known, truly, for how long magic has been with us. Has it always been here, but we were blind to it, or did something bring it in to our world? Your story may suggest the former, though it is not entirely proof of it. The case may simply be that magic was introduced to the world a few centuries earlier than we thought.”

After a moment, Kareet looked at them intently while hovering her pen over her notebook. “I have met many a Heat domain mage in my time, but none have seemed to embrace flame so deeply as you. Forgive me for how this sounds, I mean no offense by it, but how can you be alive? You seem burned so deeply, almost to your core. Your protective bark is gone, and I see no way for you to feed from the sun.”

”I feed from the fire. These flames are what sustain me. The notion that I am one with fire may be a sort of poetic metaphor in the accounts you’ve heard, but it is more literal than that. I did not embrace the flame, it embraced me. It opened me to the power, or awakened me as most prefer. It is an intrinsic part of what I have become, and is inseparable from my physical form.”

“Fascinating…” Kareet muttered to herself. For a few moments, her writing became almost frantic in pace. “This is something entirely unique, something new. Well…new to us, perhaps. If you were indeed the first of the Heat mages, then I suppose this would be the oldest form of magic. Yet, it is not something that the world, as a whole, understands. Would you say that it is something you understand, yourself? The way that you describe it, it sounds as if this is something that happened to you, rather than something you discovered as a result of those circumstances. If you wanted to teach someone to be able to embrace flame, would you be able to do it?”

Shirik measured their words very carefully before giving Kareet an answer. ”I experienced something the greatest minds of our time could not fathom. I have suffered pain that is quite literally mythic in nature. Could I teach others to control the power of fire? Yes. But, there is nothing in this world that could do to anyone else what has been done to me. There is a degree of understanding I have stumbled upon through this pain. It is not something any other person deserves to bear the weight of. What I have become is not something to aspire towards.”

Kareet gave a light nod, this time not returning to her writing. She rested her pen down on her notebook and clasped one hand over the other. “The Sages have a saying which I believe is apt: ‘Every life is a lesson’. From our childhoods, to maturity, to old age, to death, we all walk a path of our own. Every experience teaches and builds us. In the end, who we become is a product of every lesson life gave us. Yet, only we see through our own eyes. Left as is, no one else can experience our lessons. Now, I realize that the Iriad experience ancestral memory, so perhaps this philosophy is less applicable to your kind, but for the rest of us, the only way for others to benefit from our lessons is to teach. That is, fundamentally, the purpose of the Order of Sages. We learn, not only to build ourselves, but to build the experience of everyone who can read our works. Our struggles, our joy, our suffering, we give to others so that the generations that follow will be able to climb higher on our shoulders. With the…creativity of the mind, you never know what one might take from your lessons. Can you be so sure that what was pain for you might not end up helping someone in the future?”

”To live as long as I have, one must spend a lifetime detached from the world. For over six hundred years, I retreated into the depths of my mind to wade through pain like an ocean. I was not the only one of my kind to be burned alive, but I was the only one who survived it. The power and control I possess over the Heat domain is something many could benefit from, and I have helped a great deal of people along the way. If there is ever a way to recreate what I experienced, what changed me to what I am now? I would not wish it upon my worst enemies.”

“And if you could give this knowledge without the pain, would you? Do you feel your expertise would be able to help the world, if only the price were not so high? No one would take on the pain you describe willingly. But, maybe there is some way to achieve those ends without such terrible means? If not, if it truly is impossible, then that part of your story will likely remain in libraries; a testament to what you have been through. But, perhaps one day, maybe in decades, or centuries, someone will figure it out? Maybe those steps you have taken in your life will lead someone else to even greater heights?” Kareet spoke softly, intending to be as encouraging as possible.

”What you are describing is nothing more than indisputable mastery of the Heat domain. Without what I’ve become, there is only what I can do. That is something that can be learned and taught. Doing something can be passed on, but being something is not the same. Are you suggesting I give others the mastery I have, somehow?”

Kareet shook her head. “I am asking only that you describe, as best as you can, what you have become. How does it interact with your magic, and what does it do within you? I am not suggesting that someone would want to…become like you willingly. You have described what you had to sacrifice, and I agree with you when you say you would not want to encourage someone to go through that. But I am not exaggerating when I say you are entirely unique. To understand you is to bring to the world entirely new knowledge. To simply understand the nature of your being and how magic has become a part of you could lead to other discoveries down the road. Perhaps kinds of discoveries we cannot even imagine.”

Leaning forward, Kareet gestured her hands forward. “I will give an example. When I traveled to Torant, I noticed them using a clever arrangement of pulleys and metal gears to operate a lift, driven by a Lightning mage. Now, in most places, they use Force mages for heavy lifting. It is a natural solution, if you are moving around something non-magnetic, like stone. But, it is easier to use magnetism to move a certain weight than to use Force magic for the same weight. The person who created these magnetic lifts was inspired by watching mages who fought in gladiatorial competitions. He noticed that Lightning mages would almost always overpower Force mages when they were struggling over something metal. Now, using that lift, one Lightning mage can hoist up slabs of stone that would require a small team of Force mages. Yet, those gladiators weren’t trying to make better construction equipment. They were just trying to hone their own craft. Someone else took that bit of knowledge and made something new with it.”

”I’ve been to Torant. I have seen what you’re describing…” Shirik said, thinking for a moment.

”Earlier, you described yourself as a being of magic, as if to imply you are a mage. My experience tells me you are a mage, but you are not a being of magic. You are a being of flesh and bone that wields magic. I am a being of flesh and magic, because magic has been infused with my form down to the core. I do not simply wield magic. For me, it is an extension of my being. Fire is my life force, the essence that fuels my existence in this world. Without it, I simply do not exist. You, as a mage of the Lightning domain, simply direct the storm and command it. But it is not a part of you. You can be separated as a person from your magic because you do not exist at the behest of the Lightning domain. I cannot be separated from mine, because there has never been a line between me, and the flame.”

Kareet did not have a reply for Shirik’s comments on her own perspective. Rather, she was happily scribing every word they spoke, along with her own notes in the margins. “I see. It is not a conscious part of your mind, it is a part of your being. I have never heard of any case of magic having any will of its own, though. It is a force of nature, not a living thing, yet that force is so clearly fused with you. Maybe it is a part of your mind that has coupled with it; just not any part that your consciousness is aware of? I don’t think to beat my heart, but my heart would stop beating if my mind were to die. Either way, the end result would be the same.”

Kareet tapped the end of her pen lightly against her beak. “Might I see some of this magic in practice? I am curious to see if it behaves any differently for you.”

”Very well.” Shirik stood up with a creaking noise, and gripped their staff in one hand. With the other, they undid their clasp on their cloak, letting it fall to the ground.

Shirik formed an elaborate sign with their right hand, and pressed it to their chest, which prompted the flames swirling under their skin to glow brighter. They raised their staff and pointed it over the cliff, in the direction of the moon. Suddenly, the stones woven into the staff burst into flame, and a stream of fire sprung forth, brilliant and bright like a morning sun.

The blast climbed into the air for miles with a noise like a howling beast, as the veritable shooting star eventually faded into nothing. Once it was gone, Shirik turned to Kareet once again.
”That is the power I control.”

Flipping to a new page, Kareet started frantically sketching what she saw, not from the demonstration of fire itself, but of the techniques Shirik was using to create it. A plume of flame, visible for miles around, was the sort of mastery she expected from a mage with so many years of experience. Without more testing, and comparisons to other Heat mages, she could not know if Shirik was stronger, and by how much, but that was immaterial at the moment. What mattered to Kareet was how they were casting. Kareet herself was a Lightning mage, but just because she did not have the practice to use the Heat Domain herself, that did not mean she could not understand it on an academic level. She, and many others in the Order of Sages, were educated in all Domains of magic. Even those who could not use magic at all. She was still capable of comprehending what she was witnessing. These forms were so distinct from how the Heat Domain was normally taught. The base patterns were still there, sure, but Shirik was not lying when they said fire had become a part of them. The way the flames had flared within their body, flowing along with the motions, was elegant and, obviously, entirely unique to this Iriad. She could only begin to imagine how the flow of magic within the body might interact with how the effect manifested in the end.

This time, Kareet did not have a quick response. She was still in the midst of sketching one image after another of Shirik in each successive step of the spell’s casting. Though, if they were familiar enough with Tekeri to notice, Kareet was not hiding her excitement.

”You seem oddly ecstatic for someone who has met Heat mages before.” Shirik could feel a sudden wave of heat begin to roll over the meadow they rested in. It would have been uncomfortably hot to others, so Shirik forcefully slammed the bottom end of their staff into the dirt, which resulted in what Kareet may have perceived as a gust of wind. The air suddenly felt much cooler, and pleasant as a result.

For as long as she was still drawing, Kareet did not pull her gaze away from the pages. She had taken care to remember the motions as accurately as possible while observing, and so now she had to get them down on paper while they were still fresh in her mind. “Um, yes…I suppose I am. Your technique is new. Unusual. Everyone’s individual gestures and forms are a bit different, of course, but yours are quite different. Even if the end result is the same, how your process can be so different is something worth understanding.”

Eventually, Kareet did give a quick, fleeting glance up at Shirik. She had noticed the heat washing over them, which was something of an unexpected side effect. Obviously, fire warmed its surroundings, but the way it covered the area well-after the plume was gone made it seem like it came from Shirik themselves. She wondered if that was a result of their unique forms, though that was a question to explore later. “You are using the staff as a focus within your forms. Is that a technique you learned from others, or one you came to yourself? I do much the same in some of my forms, when I need to defend myself.”

”I learned this myself. There are only so many motions one can make with their limbs alone. Eventually, an instrument of some sort becomes necessary to open new potential. For me, it is this staff.” As if to demonstrate, Shirik rolled the staff over their wrist, as a spark appeared at one end. The motion formed it into a large ring, and Shirik swiped across it with the staff, causing stick figure shapes to dance across it like pages in a book. They resembled S’Tor, Iriad, and all the other major denizens of Kanth-Aramek. This seemed to merely be something to satisfy Kareet’s fascination, but was a display of fine control nonetheless.
”Everything is done through motion, and fortunately, that doesn’t change for me.”

It was perhaps amusing that, compared to a plume of flame that had lit up the night, this little show of sparks captured so much more of Kareet’s attention and curiosity. Great raw power, while not easy to execute, was easier to understand, conceptually. This little light show hovering above a staff, though, spoke of an entirely different sort of control. Using magic for entertainment was hardly a new idea; indeed, it was a concept almost as old as magic itself. These little figures of light, though, were something that would be deceptively difficult for a Heat mage to create through movement. A caster’s thoughts were also an integral part of using magic, so a part of Kareet wondered if, perhaps, thought was a bigger part of Shirik’s casting, proportionally? In any case, although deep in thought, Kareet did seem to be more relaxed. For once, she was no longer drawing or writing, and instead looked almost mesmerized by the simple light show.

Eventually, the shapes disappeared into thin air. ”The overarching rule of magic is that to do it requires movement. Somatics. The more powerful a spell is, the more it demands from its user. One might argue that there are spells so simple that one need not move at all. If that is true, they do not apply to me. The use of magic is like a sword. Harming someone with it requires movement on the part of its wielder, but even a weapon that remains completely still can hurt someone. I don’t wield magic as a weapon, but as part of myself, as I’ve already mentioned. Therefore, everything I do involves greater dedication to somatic casting.”

Kareet still wondered if there was something more behind it. There was clearly motion, but perhaps also thought? Intention? There was something that made it seem like it was a part of Shirik’s being, and that was a question that she did not know how to answer at the moment. Kareet had already learned enough to be worth bringing back. A historical account, as well as a potential avenue of research in the Heat Domain; both had fulfilled her mission. Yet, there was still more to learn. More that could not be ascertained in just a night’s conversation. This was a subject worthy of greater understanding.

“With everything I have learned about you, all that the rumors have said, I do find myself curious why you are so…elusive? Separating yourselves from the Iriad I understand, your…nature is in conflict with your people’s traditions. It is through no fault of your own, but that is the reality of things. Yet, you do not seem to want to isolate yourself. Not anymore, at least. You’ve visited towns, you’ve helped people, you even visited Torant, capital of Mythadia. There are places where you can live openly. The world has changed through the centuries; you don’t have to hide anymore.”

”I don’t hide. I never have. I simply keep to myself, because I find it easy to do.” There was more to it than that, but Shirik did not know this woman enough to divulge past that. ”We live in Kanth-Aramek. We do not live in Torant. We do not live in Uldrakir. There is an entire world laid before us, and I slipped away from it to avoid harming others. I missed more than enough in that time. I don’t intend to miss more.”

“A fair point.” Kareet nodded. “But how much do you truly see if you move so far, so quickly? There is so much of the world that is…hidden in the details. You might meet a lot of people wandering from town to town, but can you say you really know them? To form friendships, to learn about people more than just for a few stories around a campfire, but to know their principles, their dreams, their ambitions. And that’s just one person. Cities can be like an…ecosystem of different groups, all interacting in ways that can take years to just start to wrap your head around. I am not suggesting you pick somewhere to settle down for life, but maybe you would find it fulfilling to spend a few years really getting to know a place?”

”I am content to move as I do. Where I go, I help people who need help, and rest in places where they do not. I have seen most of what this world has to show. If I decide to stop moving, I will have no trouble finding a place to do so.”

“Well, I do not intend to try to argue that you should change your whole life. I merely wish to offer my perspective.” Kareet remarked. After a moment, she picked back up her notebook, pulled her pen into her hand, and resumed her notes. “Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I would like to try to get down what I can while I have you here. Should you tire of conversation, just ask and I will take my leave. And if you have any questions, well..I suppose it is only fair that I answer in return.”

”I suppose you can. I had considered traveling from here to the Ascendancy, so I may decide to leave soon. If I do, you may as well follow me there if you wish to ask me more questions.”

Kareet nodded in return, peering up at them from her notes. “Is that so? Well, if you are wanting to see my homeland, I would be happy to show you Arcaeda. That will be where I shall be returning.” She opened up to the sketches she had made and began to add more detail to clarify what she remembered of the techniques.

”Very well.” Shrink walked over to a tree and hacked away at some thin branches, and then laid them in a pile between themself and Kareet. Shirk then lit them up in a campfire. They weren’t going to rely solely on their own body to light this area up, and oddly enough, the campfire Shirik made didn’t burn the grass it was sat directly on top of.

Shirik rested against a tree and then tuned out the world as the night went on.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by TinyKiwi
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Though the gel layer regulated her body temperature, she swore she could still feel it. She hated the cold, but admitted it was preferable to heat, heat brought so many more issues with it than the cold did. To tell the truth, Eva had fallen asleep in the hanger bay, hidden between her stored drones and her Javelin, but woke as radio chatter sped up due to the neural interface she so often made use of. Sure, technically jacking into secure channels wasn't exactly something she was supposed to be doing, and could likely be punished heavily for... but they haven't caught her yet... or they have and it simply wasn't as much of an issue as she thought it would have been.

By the time a loader bot and it's driver were found, Eva was there as well. She moved forward at the head of her posse of drones, the little spiderlike bots scrambling around the bay working together to push the far smaller crates into place. "Overseer already on site, moving final packages into place now... Captain... it might not be my place but given what I've heard I think it's best we move quickly and get our clearance, official or otherwise. I doubt whatever is rushing us is going to wait patiently for pencil pushers to give the all clear." Eva put a shoulder to the larger packages, the lower joints on her suit creaking for a moment before settling into a rhythm that let her move without pause, the Arachne drones scrambling about to click and spark their little electrical discharge at anybody in the way of their Overseer or the other loader as they worked.

Eva felt naked, even there in her suit. All the changes made to her Javelin lightened her for sure, but left her comparatively defenseless. No weaponry easily wielded by her suit, the scrapped shield generator used for the upgraded power supply and solar array... it just left her feeling empty as she could almost feel the comfortable weight and recoil of a rifle made to size.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Starlance
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With the intern and the mech suit pilot handling the cargo loading, Vigdis ran back into the ship and strapped back into the service rigging - it looked similar to a parachute harness, allowing the wearer to both work suspended as well as carry a large number of tools, the rigging spreading their weight out over the entire body - and started feeding the crates’ weight into the computer so the maneuver calculations wouldn’t be off. Being in the ship somehow felt safer, perhaps because it wouldn’t be leaving without her, or maybe because she was shielded from the cold wind. “Hey, I want to get out of here as much as anyone else, but launching without clearance can be dangerous. If the airspace isn’t clear, we could end up crashing in a ball of fire and tangled metal.” Vigdis cautioned. She vividly remembered her father showing her ship disaster documentaries as a kid and explaining the causes, lessons learned and why such a thing couldn’t happen to him and she needn’t worry. Ignoring the ATC was something no software patch or design feature could prevent.

“The fighting’s not here yet, but it sure feels like it’s right around the corner.” Vigdis replied unhelpfully to the captain’s inquiry, “If we seal up the ship, we might hold out for a few minutes. Could’ve been longer, but someone decided the spaceship needed windows of all things. So whatever we’re doing, let’s do it fast.” She added as she retrieved a bundle of tie downs and ratchets and started fastening down the boxes wherever the intern and the mech pilot put them. They could be moved to the cargo bay later, when they weren’t in an active combat zone.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Cath
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Cath So this is what we're up against...

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Stavanger Spaceport backed onto fjords to the north, but the approach from the south had been carefully landscaped to maximise usable space and access. A carefully choreographed district of workshops and offices separated large parking areas for passengers and staff. It was in one of those freezing cold parking areas that Tyreese Darnell found himself crouched behind a Norwegian police car as its spinning lights shone lit up the snow around him.

His group had made it quite close to the Jotunheim’s hangar when a heavy machine gun had started firing at them from one of the concourse windows. Having made sure he wasn’t dying from a stray bullet to the bullet proof vest under his suit jacket, Darnell clutched a satellite phone to one ear once he’d made a connection with his Tamerlane handler. Its aerial wiggled whenever he flinched at the bullets which dunted into the metalwork around him.

“Mr Darnell, what is the status of the Jotunheim? Over.”

Dunt, Dunt Dunt Dunt. Civilians ran from cover to cover - the ones that didn’t were already lying face down on the cold floor.

“I can’t get through to them; they have some kind of jammer on us!”

“What is the status of the Tamerlane security detachment? We can’t make contact with them.”

“Whoever attacked us took them out first. I barely escaped the blast - they are looking for the Jo!”

A nearby car exploded, flipping over and onto the other side of the police cruiser. Windows shattered, spraying glass all over Darnell’s suit. He threw himself onto the floor and started crawling away.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Tyreese spluttered, blood trickling into his mouth from cuts on his face.

“Focus on my voice, Mr Darnell. Who are you with? Can you get to the Jotunheim?”

“Even though it isn’t even close to my job, I paid some Israelis i just met a MILLION Euro day rate from my fucking CREDIT CARD to get me there. Where is my back up?”

The Israelis in question numbered five in total and were armed to the teeth, like they’d just got back from a mission themselves. They crouched behind various nearby vehicles and attempted to exercise fire control on the invisible assailants. Their leader, Ezra, stuck close to Darnell and calmly co-ordinated the others in Hebrew.

“I don’t care how much it costs, Mr Darnell. I need you to do whatever it takes to make contact with the spaceship sat in hangar 147. We have a platoon enroute from our site in Murmansk but that’s going to take some time. You are Tamerlane’s eyes and ears at this moment.”

“MURMANSK!?” Tyreese yelled as he tried to get up. Ezra pushed him back down and fired most of a magazine into a set of plate glass windows in front of them.

“I need the whole fucking world down here 45 minutes ago!” He shouted over the din.

“Mr Darnell, we’ve got to move.” Ezra grunted, grabbing Tyreese and hefting him off the floor - no easy feat considering the suited consultant clocked in at over 14 stone himself.

The squad had eliminated the threat and they moved as one organism towards a staircase elevating them into the main concourse, Tyreese clutching his sat phone and briefcase in the middle.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Steel Legion
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Steel Legion Important plot character

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Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector


After the rifle was full of its lethal payload he left the small metal room and cautiously padded down the corridor towards the embarkation point passed the belly of the spacecraft. As he got down there he could feel the cold of the wind blowing up through the cargo hatch.

He felt his hair stand on end; he had left his winter coat in the room. He was naturally quite resistant to the brisk air. Wearing his red shirt and hi-fibre slacks with suspenders.

As he exited the hatchway he could see a large group of what looked like civilians. They were being kept at bay by a couple of bots that were spitting sparks at them. There was much confusion as they were trying to make their way to their flights, this could very easily turn to panic.

"Someone needs to keep them calm." thought Fret

He raised both his arms like a cactus and walked calmly to the group. Rifle held pointing straight up in one hand.

"Calm... Calm" he said

"Remain Calm."

His voice was almost completely lost in the worried murmuring. However, his arm was not. He was armed. The civilians looked upon him with equal parts fear and awe. They probably didnt speak old English.

"What can i do?" he thought.

He accessed his third eye and found his personal playlist, then set its speakers to max.

Music

The local area around him was filled with bemused and quizzical looks. However most of them couldn't even hear the music over the wind.

"Thats right... Happy, happy... yes" he said and smiled.

And for a moment. It was.

"Yes, remain calm, the security w-"

________________________________________ Then It Started _______________________________________________

Then the bullets started flying.

Screams and confusion started out.

The civilians started to charge past him. Which took only a second. Then he could see over by a police car a fierce firefight had lit up.

"Shit, i need to find cover"

He looked over and around, there were a few boxes... but who knows what they contained... fuel cells that would go up like a firework? Nah.

He crouched and duck-walked / sprinted over near one of the big landing gear tires of the Jotunheim.

"Good, with the weight of this thing these tires are probably thick as steel." he thought.



He leveled his rifle so the iron sights lined up... Which took some trial and error.

Sure it was old generation but he didnt want to have to teach a new one how to shoot again.

With any luck, it would know how to shoot this type of target. The projectiles themselves would do the aiming with aid of onboard microchips in the rifle.

He paced himself.

He knew that, once he'd shot they'd know where he was.

The situation was degenerating quickly, and what sounded like a GAT-9 heavy machine gun was going on.

He cycled through the various modes in his cybernetic third-eye. Heat, electrical, polarised light etc. There was a small group of... somethings... putting up a fight. He couldnt really see them because they had IR blockers on.

Then he had an idea.

He looked at his WIFI list. There was a loading animation.

Slowly they started being populated.

He could see 3 civilian ones. He looked around, most of the civilians had sprinted off. There was a few phones laying on the ground over by where he was.

"One, two" he said.

Then a few weird ones popped up. 5 in total. Had no kind of address he'd ever seen before. They were obviously the comms of task force "fast course" over there.

The animation was still loading.

There.

One... two... three... 8 pings... that must be from the enemy team.

Just then he saw the enemy team break cover and try to blitz up on the defenders.

They were rattling away with carbines and some serious shit was going down for them.

Then the smoke from the police car cleared with what looked like someone laying down by it,
and he got a clean shot on the HMG-guy. He was wearing huge armor, but this didnt deter Fret.

"Sorry..." -POP- -PPOPP-

He immediately flipped around behind the cover. And breathed out.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Cath
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Cath So this is what we're up against...

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The blast doors to the Jotunheim’s hangar were partly closed, so Fret’s line of sight onto the concourse was limited. Big plate glass windows looked out on the car park and workshops, so he had an obstructed view of what was going on outside. Closer, on the small stretch of visible concourse, there lay abandoned loader vehicles and cargo crates.

The heavily armoured LMG wielder had misjudged their position and had opened themselves up to being shot in the back from inside the hangar. Fret’s bullet hit his armour, forcing him up against the railing in front of where the plate glass had been before they’d shot through it. A well placed shot from the Israeli operators outside went through the guy’s neck, spraying blood everywhere.

For a few seconds from there, the gunfire died out. It was still deafening in the hangar, with sirens going off and screaming from the passengers as they jostled with each other to get onto the ramp leading into the Jotunheim’s cargo bay. But an eerie quiet descended on the entrance.

Then a black-clad hand appeared round one side, and threw a grey canister along the floor into the hangar. Acrid smoke began spilling out of it, obscuring visibility. It also released particles which scrambled sensors, complementing the military-grade comms jamming that had surrounded the hangar like a dome.

After a few seconds, the smoke had expanded to fill the doorway. A machine gun poked around the corner and began firing into the space. Bullets pinged off the Jotunheim’s landing gear and other nearby surfaces.

If you’d been watching closely, you might have seen a black shape sprint across to take cover on the other side of the door, under the cover of the smoke and gunfire. You’d have also seen a tall Norwegian riot police droid step out and start walking slowly into the hangar with its shield raised. The uplink light behind its head was flashing red, indicating a direct connection with someone close by.

Immediately after, still under cover of fire, three more men in snowy riot gear and ballistic face masks emerged into the smoke and tucked in behind the droid. The front two poked their guns out on either side and started shooting.



Zeynap didn’t need to see what was in the smoke to know it was time to get the hell out of there. Unable to leave her crew behind, she disobeyed protocol and opened the airlock from the ship to their cargo/scouter craft bay. The cold wind hit her instantly, chilling her to the bone.

“We are LEAVING! Everybody get in, now!” She bellowed.

Fortunately, she spotted some of the last crew members they had been waiting for. Unfortunately, they were stuck in a melee of three dozen civilians as they scuffled with each other to scale the loading ramp and get to the door.

“TAKE IT EASY! ONE AT A TIME!” She called, stepping out and grabbing the nearest person. She hauled them to their feet and propelled them towards the airlock, before looking at Vigdis and pointing at the long gun which was propped up against the hull interior.

“Do you know how to use that? We need one minute to get these people in or they’re all going to die!”
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Starlance
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Vigdis studied the captain for a second or two, deliberating on whether to tell her the truth or what she wanted to hear. “Vaguely.” She chose to be truthful, tightening the last strap on the current crate into the system and sprinting toward the weapon, noting the red stripe on the magazine indicating a load of armor-piercing darts. At that point, it had become clear that the attackers’ rules of engagement made no distinction between combatants and unarmed bystanders. Donning the sling around her shoulders as she exited the Jotunheim's shuttle bay into the main hangar, she used it to push the Jackal into her shoulder and took cover behind the ramp, dialed up the power, took aim at the center of the shield…

…and missed.

In the stressful situation, she pulled the trigger too hard, the weapon jerked as she fired and the dart merely skimmed the side of the shield and skipped off to who-knew-where. With an annoyed grunt, she withdrew behind the ramp - just in time to avoid a burst of return fire, the bullets screaming past with the telltale cracks of supersonic rounds and out into the fjord. For a few seconds, she just stared at the bit of space the bullets had crossed, the same bit of space the right side of her chest had been occupying just moments before. After a shout brought her back into the present, she rifled through the pouch where she kept a few spare magazines: Red, red - goddamnit - finally, blue! Vigdis swapped the dart magazine for one with anti-personnel flechettes and peeked out of cover as soon as the return fire subsided. What she was about to try would’ve worked better with steel buckshot, but you work with what you have, not what you’d like to have. Aiming at the floor under the droid’s shield, she emptied the entire magazine before retreating back into cover again, each of the eight trigger pulls sending a volley of almost 50 2x35 mm flechettes, intending for the flechettes to ricochet upward and hit the three attackers legs, bypassing the shield and droid. Due to the wide horizontal spread and nature of what she was doing, she didn’t even have to bother with proper trigger squeeze. She didn’t even need to seriously harm them, all she needed was for them to stop paying attention to other people in the hangar who had guns.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Expendable
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Expendable The Certifiable

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J'eon sighs as he put down his bowl and spoon. His simple meal of stewed mashed grains with a dash of liquor he had picked up in Ertiseda was now a warm lump in his first stomach that was slowly spreading.

The small pit fire cast was little more than embers now and well-screened from the road, the cart and camp hidden under a few boughs of leaves from prying eyes. Not that he expected company on this rather desolate track that would take him by a few of the farms. If he was lucky, he might find the very thing he sought....

It appeared suddenly, a fireball of light launched to the heavens, its brilliance robbing him of his night vision so that all he could see was splotches of color that burned and blurred, so he buried his face in his hands, massaging them. All around him, even the tiniest of insects were still, but when he looks up, he could see the fireflies had risen, like sparks from a massive fire, all around, giving tribute the only way they could to the brightest light this night.

"What was that?" he asks, in a voice as soft as a whisper as he continued looking in the direction of the light, but it did not rise skyward again. There was a faint glow in that direction, miles ahead. Without taking his eyes off the spot, his right foreleg rakes the dirt back into the pit, extinguishing the flames.

Whoever had sent that light aloft had announced their presence for miles, there was no need to announce himself. If it repeated, he might have to think someone was in distress...
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by EliteCommander
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EliteCommander The Commander of Elites

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The sun had only set an hour or so prior, so there was still plenty of night left for Kareet and Shirik to travel. Kareet had made all the notes she could for the moment, so she had no reason to hold up the start of this journey. Arcaeda was quite far, and depending on the path they chose, it could be weeks before they reached the capital. Internally, Kareet was hoping that nothing might happen that could make Shirik change their mind on their plans. This Iriad was an entirely unique being, and just the historical insights alone they could provide would be of immense value. They claimed to have experience an awakening centuries before the fall of the Kolodon Empire. Admittedly, Kareet was still skeptical, but if that could somehow be confirmed, that would challenge some established notions on the nature of magic and its history in Kanth-Aremek. The prestige that unearthing such a discovery would bring to a Seeker would make her a household name in the Ascendancy. Or even beyond, in some circles.

The pair of them, however, had not managed to get all the way back to the town when they heard an ear-piercing screech fill the air. The sound was…bizarre. It felt like it might come from some kind of animal, but it was nothing Kareet was familiar with. Fauna may not have been her specialty, but these mountains were still her homeland and she was educated, yet she could not place what this might have been. She glanced to Shirik, but despite how well-traveled as the Iriad was, even they would not be able to recognize it.

To the Glen, J’eon, though, the screech was even closer. It sounded like it came from within the forest out of sight, just beyond his camp. The sounds of rustling leaves and signs of movement just at the edge of his vision would certainly make it seem as if he had heard correctly.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Cath
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Cath So this is what we're up against...

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The door up onto the raised concourse was locked, so one of the mercenary team set a charge and they all stacked up on the wall to blow it. Darnell, at the back save for one soldier who was watching their six, tried to raise the Jotunheim again. Icy wind and flurries of snow whipped at him from all directions. His gloved fingers may as well have been blocks of wood as they fumbled with the sat phone.

“Hangar 147, come in. This is Tyreese Darnell of Tamerlane GOC. I have orders from HQ - do not take off, I repeat DO NOT take off. Please confirm this command.”

All he could hear was warbling static and beeps on the line, from whatever appeared to be jamming the signal. Nothing came back from the Jotunheim.

The charges went off with a muffled *FUMP*. The metal doors flew off their hinges and disappeared inside, closely followed by the Israeli team’s point man.

Inside was the bottom of a stairwell, with a desk in front of them that the doors had just destroyed. A uniformed woman crawled out from behind the wreckage holding a large socket wrench. Upon seeing them, she shouted “No no no!” and ran towards them holding her hands out. The first soldier put two bullets in her chest and she clattered backwards dead.

“Clear.” He declared as the rest of the team spilled inside and began scaling the stairs. Darnell swore upon seeing the dead body and looked around for security cameras. Thankfully, he could see none. While these mercs were masked and had no discernible markings, he was barefaced and easily recognisable. The last man pushed him toward the stairs to prevent them from becoming split up.

“Alright alright! I’m going.”

They climbed the stairs in silence, with all guns at the ready. After a few moments they reached another set of doors. They stacked up on either side of it again. Ezra tried the handle - it opened an inch. He looked through the crack. Then he nodded at the woman opposite him and she took out a stun grenade from her tactical vest. Ezra opened the door a bit more and she armed it and threw it out of the gap. A few bullets thudded into the metal door on the other side before a loud bang and a flash stopped them. It was so strong that it stung Darnell’s eyes even from the back.

The Israelis opened both doors and proceeded through, leaving Darnell peeping out from down the stairs a little way. Gunfire and shouting erupted on the concourse; tracer rounds whizzed by from both directions, with some pinging off the cargo crates and forklifts that littered the area. Darnell was pushed forward to take cover by the door so the guy in the back could provide cover. As he began moving, he saw one of the mercs take what looked like a shotgun volley to the chest. All the equipment on the front of her vest exploded in a shower of sparks and she collapsed on the floor. Ezra instantly moved in front of her while the guy by Darnell rushed over to grab her. Darnell was shouting and screaming and pointing without quite knowing what he was saying. Somehow, there was a cloud of smoke wafting into his field of view from the left.

“Move to me, Mr Darnell!” Ezra shouted, motioning with one hand to a pile of boxes near him. Tyreese finally moved out onto the concourse - three of the mercs had assumed a defensive formation to cover both directions while the fourth prepped a canister of biofoam while crouched over their downed teammate. Darnell spotted more than one dead body in his field of vision, but he didn’t stop to look at them.

“Jesus fuck. Who are these guys?”

“You tell me, Mr Darnell. They’re not amateurs.” Ezra responded. There was more gunfire from close by. Inside the cloud of smoke that was spreading across one entire side of the concourse.

“They must be in there!” Tyreese pointed.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Expendable
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Expendable The Certifiable

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Carefully, J-eon reaches behind him to grab the spear, trying not to bump it as he lifts it out of its oarlock cradle. He wasn't sure what was out there, but it was making too much racket to hide. Was this in response to the beacon? Did this rise to challenge?

In either case, if it attacked, he had to respond, for surely it would try to kill him.

He kept his movements calm as he pivoted towards the voice.

Did it come singly? Or was there two, one to give voice, others to blindside? He must listen closely in case there were more, lying in wait.
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