DemonTongue

Star Wars: Annihilation [Vash & DemonTongue]

The cargo bay was strewn with broken parts and pieces all laid out as neatly as possible, but they were running out of room. Iisska had convinced Zen to lift the ship out of the deep crater they had carved upon crashing so he could get a better look at it. It slumped pathetically to one side where the landing gear had been snapped and they had propped it up on a rock. Soon it became painfully clear that they would be going nowhere anytime soon.

Iisska shivered and bundled up tighter in his jacket, but it was almost no help at all. Much to his embarrassment he had vomited shortly after waking up thanks to what was indeed a concussion. He still struggled to think straight and with the medical stations offline he would just have to deal with it. At least there was plenty of deadly, deadly ice around to keep the swelling down. Trinity was missing. The ship's systems were failing. It was getting colder. He could already see his breath. Inside the generator core Balva relayed information to him on the outside and together they struggled to figure out why she wasn't turning over like she should. Instead of the constant deep hum it should have been making the core sputtered and flared any coughed up any energy it managed to produce. The fuel was intact, none of the coils were broken, rotors seemed to be working, and there was obviously an ignition cycle. They had agreed it had to be one of a billion connections or transfer points knocked loose on impact. Without being able to shut off the ship's systems entirely he couldn't be in the core with Balva and with only one set of hands working on the problem it would take twice as long to fix. Regardless, he was glad to have the little guy around.

"Oi! Link TC-8390 sound!" Balva shouted at him.

Iisska turned away from the makeshift metal smithing workshop he was setting up and marked off the link on a schematic of the generator core he had laid out. It was another among hundreds. Luckily they were making progress as the schematic filled up with check marks of parts that were fine or they had fixed, "Marked," he called back. This system had been going on for hours.

The bone he had been grinding between his teeth splintered. He spat it and the pieces out with the rest into the garbage and replaced it with another one from the dinner plate that was still sitting nearby. So many parts were charred beyond repair, smashed or otherwise in need of complete reconstruction or replacement. Though, replacement was not an option here. As far as he knew Hoth was a safe place to hide out, but that was because there were no settlements or permanent outposts. Everybody was expecting him to fix this. He was expecting himself to fix this. Even as the situation grew more and more grim he kept moving along with the work like it would get done sooner or later.

He jumped and stumbled, his head spinning and his heart pounding heard when there was a sudden clang and a slew of screaming from the core. Just Balva. It was always just Balva. He leaned forward and shook his head supporting himself on a homemade saw horse.

"AH! YE GREAT CANNIE TOSS O'SHITE!!," more banging and a sudden flicker and shutdown of all the lights on board followed, "AH'LL CHIB YER MUM AND PUT YER HOOS ON FIRE YA BASTART!"

With another series of clangs and what sounded like an electric whine the lights came back on somewhat brighter than before. Iisska looked around with a grimace and rubbed his temples.

"Link TC-8742 fixed!" Balva sounded suddenly far more cheery.

"Got it," Iisska mumbled and marked it off, "Think that one did something," he added trying to sound more chipper himself.

You are all going to suffer, freeze and die here no matter how much you try. Even if you manage to fix everything else, and you can't, you know you can't fix the hyperdirve. the thought pierced to the forefront of his thoughts and for a few moments his expression became vacant and distant. Again he snapped the small but solid bone between his teeth like it was a piece of straw and the floor and clutter and parts and tools around him shuddered and pushed away slowly like ripples in a pond. He glared at the ship's insides and balled up his fists. He could feel what he was doing and tried closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to stop it.

Think about something else, he urged himself, focus on something else. A coolant pump rattled into the wall and he watched it. Nine screws, nine bolts, four seals, three hoses, a cable box, two valves, two timing switches... The shuddering of matter around him died down and objects came to a stop. He visibly relaxed and then, You are all going to die. In a fraction of a second the coolant pump tore itself apart piece by piece. Every individual component was ripped out of place and distanced from the rest then slowed in the air like it had never been assembled to begin with. Then they all clattered to the ground. He took a step back just looking at the mess.

"Link TG-9531 check!"

"Y- Yeah! Got it..." Iisska checked it off and then went back to tearing into unnecessary equipment looking for anything that could help them fix major systems.

A hand was placed onto Iisska's shoulder, cold and mettalic. "Quite the unique power you have there." Marquis stood behind him, his eye a light pink. "Bang up job you're doing here. Trinity should be back online soon, I think. Doing alright?"

Iisska snapped away from the touch with a snarl before he realized it was only Sterling. He sighed and twirled a wrench around in his fingers while forcing a smile.

"Saw that didja? It's so unique I have no fucking idea how I did it or how to do it again, but that's life I guess," he said with an eyeroll, "I'm doing fantastic. Once we get this son of a bitch up and running and once Trinity is back things will go a lot smoother."

"So you're not going to tell me what's wrong. Alright." Marquis shrugged and turned. "Let me know if you guys need help with anything. I am not perfect with engineering but I will do what I can." He started to walk out of the room, leaving them to their business.

"Sterling. I can't fix... It's not going to be possible..." he clenched his teeth and tried to find a way to admit it, but couldn't, 'I'm gonna get Trinity back online first. At least then we'll have everyone accounted for... and then we'll just have to go fom there."

"Yes, yes you can." He stopped. "Gold can be made from the blackest of scorched scrap.Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting trinity fixed."
Iisska nodded.

---

Less than an hour later a violent kick start could be heard coursing through the entire ship. She rumbled hard and then stilled as the lights came back on full force. The heat followed along with other life support and control systems. Navigations were still down of course but at least now they wouldn't be going about the repairs blind anymore. The cab lit up brightly and computers booted up.

"Balva! What did you do!?" Iisska dropped what he was doing and crouched by the entrance to the generator core.

"Laddie, fit to voids ya think ahm doin! Ah sodder the bobs n bits an yell em tae the dunderheed teuchter next over, an ah donmind tellin' ya!" Balva retorted.

Iisska couldn't help but smile as he finally accessed the computers, "I have no idea what that is coming out of your mouth but I think we did it! Come on! We need to get to Trinity's A.I. core!"

He bolted off, not waiting for Balva. He took the steps out of the cargo bay two at a time and sprinted down the corridor to the cab to check Trinity's main projector. Finally. Progress. He skidded to a stop and slammed into the control panel.

"Trinity?"

He got no response. He tried turning on the projector manually and fiddling with it a bit. Still nothing. With a frown he went back to meet up with Balva who was working his way into the core now.

"Anything? Is something broken in there?"

"Dinnae see nothin," Balva answered, "Looks pure dead awrite. Dunno what tae tell ya, laddie."

The little alien squirmed back out into the hallway and shrugged.

Iisska turned in place, rubbing his head and pressing his lips together. After a few moments of silence he wandered off, "Dammit all... We must have missed something..."

TES: Akavir [Vash/DemonTongue]

The smells were incredible. It wasn't until now that S'Kylir realized how hungry and cold she had been. Villages always had that effect on her and she sometimes wondered what it would be like to live in a community like this as a resident. As a normal person. But she had never known and felt she never would. Staying in one place too long made her feel nervous. Walking to a stall selling particularly sweet smelling meats, she turned her nose up at one of the Tang-Mo furs. The Ka-Po-Tun were an honorable people in general but every society had their barbarisms she supposed.

She spoke with the merchant (who had his reservations about selling to them at first) about possible Kamal bounties or other work requiring mercenaries, paid him for the food she had picked out and moved on.

"Now, where to get a night's sleep?" she asked Septimus, careful not to speak with her mouth full and not to let any of the sauce from a skewered lizard get on her face. Steadily, she slowed to a stop and stared dead ahead.

"My, my... Something new... and quite hopelessly out of place, it seems," she said quietly while watching the strange snake woman fumble her way through the crowded market.

Septimus reached over and snatched away the lizard, biting into it before handing it back. "hmm, I am unsu-...what? The snake woman? I think she's a Tsurask...but strange."

S'Kylir shook her head, "She's not like any Tsurask I've seen. I don't think that's the case here. Come." She didn't wait for her companion and dipped into the flow of shoppers while popping the rest of the skewer in her mouth and throwing it away. Unlike her current interest she slipped through the hustle and bustle as effortless as liquid.

"You there," she came up behind the woman, "What are you?"

"You seem lost," the Dunmer held her ground, unfazed by the look she was getting, "You are also causing somewhat of a scene."

"I am sitting, trying not to be accosted by racists like you, ma'am." She turned away from her and went back to her journal.

"Of course," she crossed her arms and smirked just a little, "I'm afraid 'racist' is a throw away word in this particular situation and my accosting of you is out of selfish curiosity. Nothing more. You are not Tsurask, I think. You do resemble something familiar though..."

"Do not speak to me about them. I went to them for help and they shunned me, called me a freak of nature and tried to kill me. I am a Ssythian, for your information..."

S'Kylir took a step back, but did not take her eyes off the woman. She felt the words on her own tongue a few times as if trying to find a meaning. Then she froze in thought sizing the snake up and down... "Mysterious Akavir is becoming less and less mysterious these years," she sighed.

Septimus approached the woman and stood next to her, offering a fried lizard. "I apologize for the type of food, it is the only type we have right now as we have not gathered supplies quite yet. Would you like a bite?"

The woman looked at the fried lizard and licked her lip a little. "I do not discriminate, sir. " She took it and bit into it, tasting the first good food in days and nearly started to tear up, but kept her composure.

Septimus crossed his arms and spoke again, staring out over the water. "I apologize for my companion. She does not have exceptional people skills...In fact, she can be rude at times, but she does not mean to. She is old, and crotchety, but she is a very kind and inspiring woman..." He looked back to S'kylir and winked, feeling the death stare drilling a hole into his head. "...When you get to know her."

The woman nodded and sighed, having finished the lizard. "Thank you...I apologize for being so rude. There has been no kindness towards me since landing in this fiendish place."

Septimus nodded, his mandibles starting to twitch as he reflected on racism towards himself. "I can understand fully. My kind are not welcome in some places, the Tang-Mo in particular dislike my race as a whole...Tell me, ma'am. From the guilded oaken bow resting upon your back and the fur bag upon your hip, I would guess that you are a hunter, are you not?"

She looked up to him, her eyebrow raised. "You would guess correctly, sir. I have hunted for nearly all of my life."

He nodded again and spoke. "A tracker as well? How proficient are you?"

She put a finger on her mouth and thought about it. "I once tracked a wounded bull netch stricken by Dremora Arrows for a week and a half..."

His shoudlers jutted up and he let out a "Hmph." Before speaking again, sounding impressed. "I would like to invite you to join us then, ma'am. We are hunters ourselves, though our game are often larger and more dangerous. The pay is nice though."

She considered the ffer for a few moments before nodding positively. "Alright. I accept, as long as I can get another lizard on a stick. Warm food is quite...addicting...Oh, and my name is Annette Gibberon."

Septimus sounded shocked now, expecting a very very foreign name. "Annette? What a strange name....regardless, I am Septimus Yelenyn, and my companion is S'kylir. It is a pleasure."

She turned towards S'kylir now, addressing her directly. "I apologize for my attitude madam, again. I look forward to helping you as much as I can."

S'kylir's eyes were narrowed into luminescent red slits as she looked upon the snake girl with her chin held high. Her arms were folded and her lips were pressed into a shallow frown. There was a moment of silence between the three of them that was longer than it had any right to be during which the Dunmer glanced between her old friend and what would certainly appear to be their new companion.

Finally she bowed stiffly, "A pleasure, Muth'Serjo. It is fortunate our mutual friend is so taken with you. Fortunate indeed, for while I let my curiosity get the better of me..." she leaned in a little closer with a somewhat menacing and tight smile, "I choose my allies wisely and I am not so easily impressed by a mere hunter's tricks, Annette."

The woman turned elegantly in place, her clothes and mane of red hair swirling around her movements, and began to walk back toward the town proper. Her boots clicked confidently beneath her with each step and she did not look back. She had seen an inviting looking inn on the main road with a broad selection of fine teas available in the main floor kitchen. It would do nicely for the night as they rested and resupplied. She would be able to have her clothes washed, sleep in a bed and get more information out of the locals... and she would be able to keep an eye on their new friend.

Star Wars: Annihilation [Vash & DemonTongue]

The Harpoon lurched and tossed violently into hyperspace. It felt as if she was struggling just to keep herself together now.

"Zen? Zen! Damn it!" Iisska slapped the comatose man's face but his efforts yielded no result. Zen still lay there like a corpse and stared cold and blank into nothingness. He placed his fingers on Zen's neck and felt the light flutter of a pulse, faint, but insistent.

Iisska shook his head with a huff, "He's still alive, barely. Help me move him to his room."

With Sterling's aid they managed to move Zen to his bed so he could hopefully recover in peace. A deeply unsettling shudder passed through the Harpoon as they did so, leaving them all in a tense silence until it passed. Another would follow a few minutes later. The crew was managing to settle in and catch their breath when the next tremor hit. It was going to be a long trip anyway and the ship constantly reminding them that they were playing with a quick death would only make it longer.

"There's something wrong with the hyperdrive," Iisska muttered to Balva as he slipped below into the cargo hold to get a look at the engine monitors. Little numbers and meters, most of them in red, flickered on the screens. The readings were abysmal. "There's something wrong with everything," he sighed and leaned against the wall. He felt absolutely lost. They couldn't touch the hyperdrive that was currently holding their lives in the balance until they came out of the jump and he dared not cut their route short and possibly leave them stranded in the middle of wild space... or far worse. Quietly he mumbled and counted a list on his fingers. Missing landing strut, water in several electric systems, radiation leak in the ion converters (again), coolant low, hydraulic fluids low and contaminated, shield generators overloaded... His stomach growled loudly... Haven't eaten and haven't slept. With a frown he pushed himself off the wall and stood up straight.

"I'm gonna get something to eat and then get to work," he said to Balva, "We should at least be able to get her ready to land before we reach Hoth." The one planet where any parts what-so-ever would be impossible to come by. He shoved the thoughts out of his mind and climbed back up to the main deck.

---

Agent Quin splashed the stale water over her face and took her time clearing the grime and blood from her skin. She dabbed at the cauterized, swelling flesh on her ear but the pain became too intense for her to want to bother with it further. It would heal in time. She looked deeply into the tiny mirror then snapped her eyes to the door of the bathroom. Zenithar Ouran. Murderer. Psychopath. Dangerous. He had nearly dropped dead on the bridge and, from what she had seen, was hanging on by a thread. This was her chance. She had no weapons, but that had never stopped her before. The woman slipped out of the bathroom quietly. Her ears strained to hear any movement. The corridor was clear. With exceeding care and grace she padded along the floor in nothing but skin-tight under garments. They had carried him this way. Around each corner her pulse picked up like the rising beat of a war drum as the charge reached it's climax, but would then slow under her constant control. Wait for the moment. There was the door shuttered between her and her target. It wasn't even locked. The door hissed open revealing Zen still seemingly unconscious and waiting for her. He had to keep weapons around. To her dismay the room was immaculate. Clear of all clutter and useless trinkets... including anything that could be used to kill him with. She would have to do it with her bare hands. One step at a time she crept closer. His eyes were still open, but still lifeless and gazing far away from her. She reached out ready to yank the skull around in the way she was trained. Sever the spinal chord. No mess, no fuss. In and out.

A powerful hand wrenched into a chunk of her hair, close to the scalp, and yanked her backward to the floor. Quin gasped and yelled out in pain and landed hard on her ass. She clawed at her assailant's arm as they drug her out of the room and then threw her into the wall opposite the door. Her head spun and she groaned and hissed before glaring up into the barrel of a DT-57. The Togruta she had seen in the shipyard the night before closed the door behind them and then turned on her.

"You got a death wish, lady?" he growled at her.

She didn't speak to him. A strange pressure was pushing down on her chest, shortening her breath, making her body feel heavy, leaving her growing uncomfortable and anxious.

A long silence followed as the two of them sized each other up and waited for the other to do something stupid.

Finally he relaxed and pulled the gun out of her face and scratched his forehead with it. The pressure she felt evaporated. After a deep breath he spoke quietly, "I'm not gonna kill you... We're gonna need all the help we can get soon... But that doesn't mean you'll live long if you keep mucking up aggro!" he jabbed the gun at her again before holstering it, "I don't care for the bastard either, but you wouldn't be kicking if it weren't for him. None of us would... At least give him that for a few days," now he folded his arms and stood guarding the door, "Promise... If we actually manage to survive this, he's all yours. Deal?"

"You're all going to die or be locked up for the rest of your lives," she spat at him before storming off.

---

The turbulence of the frozen atmosphere beating against the ship on entry felt like they were being bombarded with torpedoes and lasers all over again. Iisska braced himself in the bridge keeping an eye on the monitors there and yelling over the comm, trying to get Balva to shut up for a minute. They had been awake and working away for the entirety of the journey and had managed to survive coming out of the hyperspace jump. Balva had confirmed the damage to the hyperdrive in the form of a hairline fracture in one of the cells. The entire debacle was a miracle of sorts. At least they were only plummeting toward the ground at the wrong trajectory and not exploding into tiny bits with enough quantum energy to thrust what was left of them into the next dimension. A million yellow and red lights were chiming repetitively to remind Iisska of the crew's impending doom.

"Trinity, not be brash but it kinda feels like you're piloting this thing ARSE ABOUT FACE!" he yelled over the warning siren that kicked on.

"Oh?! You think you're so good at driving a hunk of metal and rusted bolts?! You try!"

The ship threatened to veer off course now as Trinity took her processes off of the controls and Balva started screaming. "YOU BLOOMIN' IDGIT, APOLOGIZE AND STOP CRITISIZN' THE WOMAN."

"FINE! WATCH ME!" Iisska yelled back. He hunched over the controls and took the yokes in both hands and pulled up as hard as he could and only managed to get the ship back on it's erroneous trajectory. There must be some thrusters out or a rudder jammed or a circuit misfiring or one of a billion other things going wrong. Working quickly he shut off the upper thrusters leaving them with only the set toward the bottom of the ship. The trajectory righted itself somewhat but now they were falling too fast and risked going into a flat spin. He could feel the ship threatening to turn to one side in a descent that would surely kill them.

"T- Trinity..."

She appeared in hologram form next to him, sitting on a chair with her legs high on a table. "OH I'm sorry? Is it a little too hard?" Marquis came into the room then and looked between Iisska and Trinity and let out a disgusted "Uuuuugh!" He then slapped Iisska in the back of the head, making a clang. He slapped him again and again. "Get out! Get out of here!" He got Iisska out of the chair and slapped him out of the room."

"Thank you, Silver." Said Trinity, taking over the ship again as everything was accounted for and it righted itself again.

Zen was in his quarters, on the floor due to the ship shaking, his eyes fixed like a statue as he gurgled and moaned.

"No! Sterling! I need to be able to see what's going on! Sterling we're going to crash! LISTEN TO ME!" Iisska fought back but the door to the bridge slammed shut behind him. Before it did so, however, he caught a sickening glimpse of the snowy, glacial landscape rushing up at them at an astonishing speed, "Oh for fuck's sake," he gasped and looked for anything to hold on to.

When the sudden darkness ebbed it left his body freezing and numb aside from his head which throbbed and sent shocks of pain through his brain and down his back. Regardless he struggled and writhed his body off what appeared to be the floor. He winced against the dull white glow that diffused in from one of the portholes. The sirens and engine had stopped, leaving the ship in an eerie silence, but the red lights continued to flash. They were going to make him vomit. Iisska closed his eyes and sank back sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. They had crashed. They had fucking crashed the ship. The ship that was already broken to begin with. He put a hand over his face. It was wet, sticky and cold. The hand he had used was now coated in congealing blood. Of course it was. Through squinted eyes his vision cleared and he could clearly see the bloody dent where he had pile-driven his skull into the door.

Star Wars: Annihilation [Vash & DemonTongue]

The squad moved quickly and suprisingly quietly for how well equipped they came. Quin kept a map of the structure up on her tiny data-link at all times to flawlessly lead them to their target. There was a rumble that shuddered the walls around them and the floor beneath their feet. Had they brought up the heavy artillery already? She pushed forward into air that was becoming thick. Think and pungent. It was only seconds before the stench became so strong she felt averse to breathing and some of the agents began to wretch.

"What in creation is that?" one of them mumbled.

"Rotting flesh..." Quin knew it well.

She slowed her pace. The rumbles continued. Not artillery. It wasn't quite right. What could be happening? With he light on the floor of the dark passage she spotted a small grimey bone beside her foot. She kicked it away. A few more steps revealed a larger bone and then several more, then a bit of clothing here and a pile of unmentionable rot there. She shined the light forward. The edges of the floor were piled high with shreded corpses as if their bits clawed at the wall still begging for escape after death. The floor shuddered and rattled.

"That... That sounds like breathing..." a man behind her whispered.

"Or footsteps?" another said in a jabbing tone.

"Don't be stupid," Quin snapped, "Keep moving, we're losing time."

She was the first to plunge through the fetid pile of wretched leftovers. Her rifle was raised safety off. The air felt cold. Then damp and warm. The drafts swept around them with a hiss. The bones that held her weight shifted. Screaming startled her and a roar from the void deafened her and stopped her heart.

Quin spun around and nearly fell as her squad errupted into chaos. The screaming became gutteral like choking. Blaster fire lit up the passage like flames. Shouting and screaming and the roaring. By all the suffering in the universe the roaring. Before her, barely fitting in this section of the labyrinth stood a monster. It lashed out at her men and crushed them between the horrible teeth that lined its foul maw. She froze. This could not exist...

"RUN!" the shrill yell tore at her lungs as she tried to be louder than the slaughter, "FALL BACK!"

The woman tore back onward away from the demon behind them. She could hear some of the squad repeating her orders and following immediately. The decaying carnage that she scrambled over now became nothing. It was all she could do to hail the Commander.

"Commander! There's something down here! It's... It's a monstrous... I don't know what it is, but we have casualties! We need to extract!" she screamed.

"Agent Quin, have you completed your mission?" his voice was cold.

A response would not form for her.

"I never thought I would be so disappointed in you... Agent, you will leave this planet alive when your mission is completed or you will not leave. Need I remind you that you and your men are not soldiers?"

"Sir..."

"Deal with it, Agent."

The feed went dead. Her ears were ringing and full of static, but still the beast's howling managed to peirce them. The ground rose up and threw her to her face as another squad member wailed and garggled in agony and death. There was a ripping noise before his silence. A rough hand grabbed her arm, hauled her to her feet and drug her forward.

"Captain!" The large blonde man thrust a laser cannon into her arms before pushing her along again, "He won't be needing it anymore!"

She couldn't tell how many of them still lived. How many were behind or in front or if they were going in the right direction now. Her heart slammed into her ribs painfully and her breath clawed at her insides. Another roar. Quin loaded a charge and turned on her heels to slide to a braced stop. The monster towered above her and fell upon her with a gaping, dark mouth. She fired. The impact struck the back of its throat in an explosive display. Its head ripped back and its furious, pained screeching could be felt in her chest. She sprinted away again. She could feel it tearing at the passage behind them, throwing bits of corpses and slamming walls and ceiling in its rage. The muscles in her legs ached, but she had to keep putting precious distance between them. She stumbled around a corner blindly and saw ahead flashing warm light flooding the passage. The exit! The battle! But they would lead this thing into the fray... It was the only choice. She could only hope it would be to their advantage.

The light and deafening blaster fire that burst all around them in the open space nearly felt like a sanctuary, but she knew it was far from that. There was the ship. The assault was being cut down left and right. Nothing had gotten through. Her guts boiled at the sight of the bodies and the blood. The monster crashed in after them. She risked a glance back to see its full form. She almost wished she hadn't. There was no stopping now. With a fierce battle yell she sprinted at the ship knowing full well it still followed her. Lasers whipped past them aimed at the ship and those that fought from it. A shocking pain ripped through her ear and she immediately slapped a hand over it and stumbled. She could feel the chunk missing from it but regained herself and charged forward. Only a few more meters. She slammed on the breaks and dropped down sliding into the low clearance between the ship and the ground. Rolling back around to aim the cannon and face the beast she fully expected it to come down on the ship with the same destructive force with which it had come after the squad. But it didn't. It had lumbered to a stop. She breathed hard and kept it in her sights. It walked around the ship and bellowed at her before striking under the ship with a deadly claw. She screamed and fired another blast causing it to recoil its paw in anger.

"Damn creature!" she spat. Frantically she looked for an out and only found herself trapped and alone.

---

The Commander sat comfortable, watching the butchering of his army in silence. He heaved a sigh and contacted the Kaminoans, "I apologize, but it seems we will need to resort to our back up plan... Yes, the damages will be repaid in full... Flood the sector."

---

Every blast of the turret shook him. The first kill had been the easiest. He hadn't thought about it. He had only followed suit. The following kills had been out of fear of what would happen if he didn't. Now it was just happening. Out of control. Horrifying. They put up little fight which only added to his guilt. They could have just run... but he knew what was waiting for them off planet.

A sudden cacophony from the rear ripped his focus away from the battle. Iisska dropped the turret after a few more moment and clambered out of the platform and up over the ship for a better look. The terentatek was back. Two people in black uniforms and carrying large guns fled from it. One of them was snatched up and torn to pieces in the blink of an eye. Then it came toward the ship. Not good.

"No. No, no, no!" he yelled.

It brutally tried to fish something out from under the ship, circling it and shrugging off fire like it was nothing, obsessed with its prey. Iisska aimed his blaster at its eyes.

"Back off!" he yelled at it. He was completely ignored and it struck out under the ship again. This time slamming it roughly. He nearly lost his footing but managed to stay up right.

"You, stupid... you gnotrohk... UUH'K WHORE!!" Iisska let loose several blasts into the creature's eye causing it to wince and throw its head and growl in annoyance. Again it went after whatever was under the ship slamming it again. This time there was a low snap and high pitched whine. The ship jerked and sunk to one side as one of the landing gears gave way. Iisska fell backward and started to slide off the ship toward the terentatek. He snagged a vent with his foot and kicked down hard to propel himself into a jump stronger and higher than anatomy would normally allow. Surprised by his own force jump he stumbled but stuck the landing on the new top of the ship.

"ZEN! YOU AND YOUR SODDING PETS! COME GET THIS--" the lights went dim and red sirens filled the room cutting him off mid tirade. What in the 'verse was... From hatches the suddenly opened in the ceiling and from the passage where the monster had come and from nearly all entrances into the area water flushed in like tidal waves and began to rapidly rise.

Star Wars: Annihilation [Vash & DemonTongue]

"Iisska!" Zen yelled toward the ship. "I swear to the VOID, if you don't get in that gun platform in the next THREE SECONDS, I'm going to pull you down here to slap you willy nilly!"

"I'm ALREADY IN the STUPID gun platform!" he screamed out of the turret. He clenched his hands around the grips and rested his fingers on the triggers. They felt good, but not right. All of this was insane. He still had not changed his mind about that from the instant he first set foot on this damn ship. Had it not been for Marquis, Iisska would have been long gone. He frowned, took a deep breath, and mumbled "Please don't send sentients." It was a long shot.

(After you get back, maybe a little space engineers?)

"WHAT! WHAT ARE THESE SPACE ENGINEERS?!" Zen started to look around frantically, "STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS"

Marquis poked his head up next to Iisska's and spoke. "What in the bloody void is he on about now?"

"I-- I didn't-- I said... Never mind," Iisska trailed off leaving the mad man to his own devices, "I have no idea," he sighed, "Won't be long until the GEU are pouring down our throats though... maybe he'll scare most of them off."

"Doubt it, boy. Not going to be a pretty fight. Zen has apparently drawn the fleet."

"I'll worry about the fleet once we're off planet. They're not stupid enough to just funnel everything they've got into one port," he scratched his neck, "I don't think they will... but what's to stop them just blasting us to hell and being done with it?"

"Civilian casualties, my boy. There are a lot of them, plus, they want to make sure Zen is dead. By dead I mean on the ground without a head. A bombardment won't do it for them."

Iisska visibly shuddered and took his hands off the turret. The sick was rising in his throat, "You sound like you've done this before."

"I've done this sort of thing many times in my life. This is the first time I've done it on this crew...I've killed a lot of people, Iiisska."

---

In the cockpit of a small ship that orbited around the planet she sat calm and still. Deep breaths flowed effortlessly in and out. Her eyes were closed. He heart beat was slow and steady. Kamino, the fleet, her ship, her men, her equipment and her body melted away into nothing until all that was left was her existence at it's very core. The normally balanced sanctuary of being keeled back and forth subject flares of anger and fear. It was frustrating and so much harder to still than it had been before. When she began to feel out the point where her focus was set in all the chaos the alarm on the communications receiver went off. Her eyes snapped open and she was ripped out of her sanctuary and into frigid reality.

"Agent Quin," the Commander spoke, "We have located the ship and are preparing our forward assault. Mobilize your squad."

"Yes, Sir," she relayed the orders to move in and gave power to the ship.

"The Admiral has informed us that the Kaminoans have offered to aid the operation in anyway possible. Should there be complications you will contact us immediately."

"Yes, Sir," she said more quietly.

"I suggest you hurry. Our forces are numerous, but the faster you move the less casualties there will be today... Do not fail us, Agent. I believe you know what is at stake if you do," the communication cut off after that.

Quin held the bile in her gut down. There the emotions smoldered and fueled her. Part of her dared the thick atmosphere of the water planet to burn her alive on entry and face the consequences. It wasn't so bold.

The small squad of one person ships slammed into the rough seas. Their engines still thrust them under the waters toward the target. She bit down on the mouthpiece in her helmet, double checked her equipment and began the process to equalize the pressure of the cockpit, the water and her suit. The others would be doing the same. On the displays the distance to their surfacing coordinates ticked smaller and smaller. Another deep breath. The ship shuddered against the force resisting it. The small pods would be damaged and worthless after the missions, too abused to be used again. She could see the massive structure that stretched up into the station partially above the water, but mostly submerged and the unfathomably long supports that stretched downward into the abyss with the untold horrors of this planet. Disengage. She gripped the yokes and braced.

The shock of the ejection nearly knocked her unconscious. The ship spat her out into the unforgiving hellish water with nothing to hold onto but what had once been a section of the cockpit frame. It was like being hit in the gut with a battering ram. She struggled to get her heart rate and breathing back down. Some black ops agents boasted about getting used to such maneuvers. She seriously doubted them. On the under section of the frame a small engine kicked on and spun a propeller which dragged her through the currents. All around she caught glimpses of her squad ejecting and heading toward the rally point.

It wasn't long before she was manuvering into a small opening in the lowest part of the station. It was tight. The sides of the tunnel nearly touched her on all sides. It stretched on and on and contained tight turns and inclines. It was shrouded in total darkness. The light on her dive helmet did little to illuminate her path.

The hatch should be in sight any second, she reassured herself.

It was several more agonizing minutes before her light shined on the sealed door. Here she let go of the little device that propelled her forward and reached out for wheel and override panel on the hatch. It was old, tarnished and stiff. The interface had most likely not been touched since it was installed. Regardless, the Kaminoans, thorough species they were, had maintained the codes she needed. It took several sequences of numbers but it was followed by a rewarding hiss. She wrenched the wheel counter clockwise. It took all her strength but slowly it screeched and ground until the hatch snapped inward. The force of the water shot her through. Quin landed roughly inside a dark corridor and grunted and rolled onto her knees. The water continued to flow in like a geyser. The rest of her squad came with it. Water splashed around her ankles but she ignored it and removed the bulky case from her back.

Inside were explosives, EMP grenades, and a very illegal but standard issue blaster rifle. Others had both similar and very different equipment. A couple unloaded deadly blaster cannons that had to be supported on their shoulders. Those were designed to punch holes and kill with out subtlety. So that's what kind of operation it would be. Quin ditched anything she would not need for the fight here including much of her flight suit. Underneath she wore a dark, lightly armored stealth suit that matched those of her squad. She dropped her helmet with a splash and checked the comm link in her ear. It worked.

"Commander. We are in the station and have surfaced in the labyrinth," she reported.

"Confirmed. The forward assault has already made contact with the target. You had better hurry, Agent."

The Squad waited for orders. The human woman leading them clenched her fists and turned stiffly. She was small, yet well built. Her dark hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob, ear length on one side and trailing down her chest on the other. A deep scar shot up her left cheek over her eye and across her brow. She glared at them.

"Get through their shields and disable the ship. Trap them. Execute them. No prisoners. Move out," Quin spoke harshly.

Cybernetic Rebellion [Vash & DemonTongue]

SETTING

Acre

This is the planet on which the story takes place. To us Earth creatures it's called KOI3284.01... how very boring. The settlers were content to call it by that name until later in their history when it was becoming apparent that the planet was yielding little in the way of resources and when the plague first started to hit. It was then that the name Acheron (see Dante's Inferno and Greek Mythology) became spitefully popular among the educated denizens and passed around to survivors and descendants in texts and stories. Thousands of years later the name for the planet among this certain continent has been shortened to Acre. Only the old, the well-read and those on the front of scientific discovery still use the proper pronunciation of Acheron. Though many know of the word it's use is uncommon and seen as archaic or only used when someone wants to look smart.

The environment is over all a bit colder and dryer than that of earth leaving the planet covered in vast, rocky deserts at the equator and massive ice sheets at the poles. Crops are still grown in areas in between with enough water to support farms and irrigation such as coastal regions, mountain valleys with glacial runoff, and river deltas. Sturdy forms of native plant life still thrive in suitable places including places where it is too difficult to grow earth-like crops. In the past century moisture harvesting and hydroponics have become more common in dry areas. Much of the harsh desert lands, tundras, ice fields, oceans and forests are unexplored.

Ancient History

Please keep in mind this is only to give us writers a place to cement ourselves and understand why all this happened in the first place. Except for Alexander, ancient databases and some very special machines, pretty much nobody should know about this stuff and if they do, they only know about it speculatively from research and archaeological findings. Even Alexander wouldn't be privy to all knowledge of the Expansionist era and have access to only a tiny amount of pre-Expansion history.

Scientific breakthroughs on earth (with the help of stolen alien technology and a bit of a mysterious spat with them) lead to crafts with the ability to warp short galactic distances and massive gates that could "jump" ships over long distances between gates. Humans worked on this technology and honed it for over a century before stretching beyond our solar system. They set up mining colonies on Mars, Titon and several other solar bodies nearby. With many warp capable ships in production and now available to civilians with the means to procure them, a new age of exploration began. People spread out over the new frontier in search of resources and riches, stations and jump gates were built across the near galaxy, the government began setting up research funds dedicated to planetary expansion, terraforming and colonies, pirates flourished and built or commandeered backwater stations and accumulated fortunes.

KOI3284.01 was one of the planets that was colonized by Earthling scientists and miners. Their mission was to set up one of thousands of homes away from home, to put governing bodies into place, set up communications with the galaxy, maintain their jump gate, breed and introduce earth life to boost the tiny ecosystem, become self sufficient, survey the planet for resources and new life forms and begin extracting them. This was the same basic mission as every other newly settled exoplanet. For a very long time things went smoothly. The atmosphere was thin and cold so massive terraforming nodes were constructed across the surface of the planet to raise the amount of greenhouse gases and create a more suitable environment for plants, animals and people. These nodes can still be seen today, taking the appearance of massive, blackened, rusted and ruined alien towers that loom, lifeless, over their lands.

After several centuries of nothing but success the easily accessible ores had been mined out. The population spread and expeditions to the frozen north in order to find new mines began. However, while taking samples of the permafrost a prehistoric viral strain that had been dormant for millions of years was uncovered. Once the scientists realized what they had pulled out of the ground it was too late. The virus had multiplied and spread like wildfire through the citizens. It was highly contagious, air-borne and killed quickly. Again and again it would thwart efforts to find a cure or vaccine. When they reached out to the galactic powers for help the jump gate was shut down and the planet quarantined until the plague could be reversed. Despite quarantines, medical experiments and hundreds of attempted remedies, the virus soon struck at the heart of KOI3284.01's governmental structure. Along with civilians, top scientists, military leads and government officials were killed. No help came from the outside. Soon it became clear that the planet and it's people had been abandoned. With hundreds of other planets to care for, several wars to fight and rebellions to disperse their own people would not risk it all for one little, far-away world. Collapse was imminent. Research facilities, political houses, farms and mines were abandoned with nobody to run them. Ships fled the surface in vain to escape the horrific deaths brought on by the plague. But with no jump gate to any sort of safe haven, their fates were sealed. The population dissolved, structures were left to ruin, machines were left to run and continue their protocols in deep solace, communications silenced. The newly christened Acheron was dead. Or so it seemed...

History

Most people alive now will know a thing or two about this stuff, but probably not every bit of it. A few speculations about this era of history and the ancient history section are being tossed around among the more intellectual groups although most of it is quite wrong.

A few humans had survived their brush with the virus and come out of it with a new immunity, or had managed to escape it's clutches entirely by sinking deep into the wilderness. They lived in small groups like animals, hunting and gathering to make due. Very slowly, they began to re-build. Their efforts took hundreds upon hundreds of years as isolated villages sprang up and grew into towns or faded away. Stories, languages, scraps of scientific knowledge and trickles of history were passed down through the generations, but so much more was lost to time. New discoveries, customs, leaderships and ways of life evolved in the emptiness. After nearly a thousand years the glorious age before the plague had been completely forgotten. Little clues hidden in the tools, buildings, words and bodies of this new breed of humans and the mysterious structures that clung to their world were all that remained to hint at what had come before.

City States were soon established and trade between them gave way to new eras of thinking, science and communication. Exploration and a new found interest instead of fear of ancient artifacts ushered in an era of technological breakthroughs and mass education. Electricity was re-discovered en mass. Hydroelectric plants lined the rivers and allowed cities to grow larger and more comfortable. Invention and manufacturing became a staple of everyday life. New mines were dug, ancient ones were re-opened. New towns sprang up deeper into the Wild as riches and knowledge were uncovered. Institutes, governments, laws, factories, militias and public transportation grew in the cities on the east coast of the continent. Massive electromagnetic trains and tracks for them to run on were built to transport equipment and supplies west and south into the wild then bring resources and food back from the mines and farms. Industrial and even a handful of personal vehicles became available running with the same technology that had been used on the trains. Magnetic repulsion was researched to make such vehicles even more efficient and the information was used to develop new kinds of weapons to defend against outlaws, strange horrors and wild animals that were coming out of the unexplored lands.

Current Events

Popular fiction and recounted tales of adventure and fortune drive more people out of the safety of the city states, many only find death, but some find treasures that continue to aid progress. Many private organizations, including the Neola Institute of Sciences (NIS) have even offered rewards to any substantial findings brought to their attention. It is a time of glory and wonder, but also a time of danger, death and suffering.
In the Wild there is lawlessness and anarchy. Outlaws run the show and abuse innocent homesteaders, prospectors, hunters and villages who have weak or no militia available to protect them. Larger sites, such as company owned mines or farms have trained men and many weapons to keep bandits at bay. The people working in these places are more lucky than some but in no way are they totally safe. Day by day gangs grow stronger and more equipped than ever before.
However there are those that are willing to combat them and do more than the militias and private armies can be bothered with. Small bands of enforcers with their own moral code have popped up to help their fellow man. The largest of these groups, known as The Rangers, command a huge amount of territory and run patrols between towns and homesteads.
Not only bandits threaten those who would venture out. Many people who leave home are never seen again and strange human-like creatures have been seen wandering the wastelands with hungry empty eyes.
Wild animals have changed in the millenniums since they were introduced. Most are tougher, bigger and more ferocious than ever before having adapted to a more harsh climate after the terraforming nodes went down. Coyotes, lions, bears, venomous lizards and gargantuan snakes are the biggest threats. These predators are mostly nocturnal, but have been known to strike during the day when disturbed.
Mechanical beings have also been found to the north, situating themselves around inhospitable compounds built into the ice.

Technology

Much of it is reverse engineered from artifacts, runs off of electricity and batteries, or is fairly primitive. Weapons are occasionally ballistic, but electric, magnetic and repulsive systems are far more popular. Ballistics are seen as ceremonial or antiques or fashion statements under the far more powerful rail gun. Vehicles of all shapes and size ranging from trains, personal vehicles, haulers, hover crafts and wheeled tankers can be found in this world, most have electromagnetic propulsion and power systems.

FACTIONS

Rangers

Though the Rangers are ruthless in their methods, their intentions are good and they want to make a safe place for the settlers, miners, farmers, etc... They solve crimes against humanity, track bandit groups and outlaws, enforce their own laws on the people and enact justice and those who cross them. Their existence is highly controversial as some of their actions are seen as brutal or unethical. Even so many people who call the Wilds home consider them a blessing and stay in their good graces.

The Union

These guys are the closest thing to a functioning nation this continent has. A conglomeration of allied City States and militias.

Lost

Horrible, evil beings. They attack on sight and any specimens that have been killed and examined closely are indeed human but grotesquely mutated. They feed on the flesh of other humans and rumor has it they consume every part of the victim, even the soul. Nobody knows how they come to be this way, but their numbers are growing and more of the adventurous are becoming Lost in the Wild. They attack on sight and any specimens that have been killed and examined closely are indeed human but grotesquely mutated.

Machines

Ancient relics and automated beings of varied shape, size, and function who live in the far north. They posses old and valuable knowledge, but they are uninterested and often incapable of sharing it and they hide themselves well. Those who research the sprawling structures the machines seem to be birthed from almost always report findings of strange heat emanating from the core of the devices which power them and soon fall ill and die with strange afflictions that eat at the flesh, cause nails and hair to fall out and bring the victims into madness. As a result the machines are largely shunned and left alone. Currently scientists are trying to solve the riddles of these places without further casualty. The beings themselves tend to be relatively harmless, wandering the land, taking samples, recovering resources and dysfunctional brethren and minding their own business. However some have retaliated against explorers, killing people who get to close or hunting them down. These incidents, along with the stigma and supposed curse of their structures and cold lands has lead to widespread hatred and fear of them.

The various bandit tribes will be listed here as they are created in more depth.

LOCATIONS

Neola City

A major city state and perhaps the largest in the Union. It is home to many factories, hydro-electric plants, train stations, the largest militia barracks and training ground on the continent, an institute for higher learning and a central court house.

Ranger Compound

The compound is located some distance out in the wilds where new lands and riches are being claimed and settled by decent folk. Most of the compound is underground as it was constructed out of an abandoned mine and refinery. There are many watchtowers that stretch along the mountain ridges it is built into and many miles of tunnels under the ground. The Rangers, both the commanding family and hired guns, live here and conduct their operations from here. They have developed sophisticated communications that surpass those of the City States. Out in the wild they have access to ancient and forgotten places and they have the guts and guns to investigate them. Several archaeologists have cast their lot in with them for a chance at a more knowledgeable and adventurous life... that or they have done it out of spite for the larger institutions back east.

Circle Canyon and the Barrier

A mining town in the south Wild owned by the Hanzheng Steel Company. It is home to the largest and deepest iron mine in operation to date. The town is located in a sort of canyon oasis below a reservoir that ends a very long system of rivers stemming from the northern glaciers. The rivers have carved out a jagged and incredible series of canyon lands, cliffs and rock spires though the continent. These canyon lands form a Barrier to the west. A few treacherous paths through the cliffs as well as a couple of natural land bridges and steel behemoths designed to hold up train engines are the only ways across without circumnavigating the barrier to the north or south. Circle Canyon is known as a trading hub and a place for explorers and wanderers to stop for supplies and rest on their way in and out of the wild. The town never sleeps and is home to honest people and ruffians alike. Hanzheng also boasts one of the largest private armies in existence and thanks to them Circle Canyon remains a fairly safe haven where trouble is not tolerated.

The Wild

Unexplored areas of the continent mostly to the west and north. These areas are harsh, cold, dry and largely inhospitable. The wild is home to fierce animals, terrible monsters, deadly machines and other mysterious beings still unknown to the population. People tougher than most conduct expeditions into the wild on occasion in the name of discovery and profit. A select few even call it home, such as Rangers, outlaws, miners and homesteaders. The wild stretches on for what seems an eternity and the west coast of the continent has never been found.

The North

Frozen wastelands of tundra, rock and ice. Very few dare to tread into this hellish land. The temperatures can kill quickly, there is no food and no shelter other than what one can bring in. In the winter there is constant darkness. The only life up here is a minute selection of tough animals and extremophiles as well as the Machines. Structures of seemingly mindless twisted metal spring up through the ice and rock and bore through the ground for hundreds of miles.

The Void Waters

An ocean to the east which stretches farther than the eye can see and farther north and south than any known person has traveled. Several expeditions have been mounted to explore the entire coastline of the continent but they have yet to complete the task. Technology has brought about fishing methods, boats, piers and heavy ships. Despite this, attempts to journey across the ocean have all failed, with the explorers never returning again. There are horrifying creatures, native to the planet, living in these waters. They are hideous, massive and extremely deadly, keeping humans hugging the shore-line much of the time. While many smaller native species have been captured and studied, only one or two of the larger creatures have been killed. However, there are advances being made in naval technology, armored ships, ballistic harpoons and other weapons capable of taking down such monsters and many businessmen are eager to see if they can be put to use.

CHARACTERS

Tony "Horseshoes" Tessaro

Portrait

Inside the lodge barroom it was mostly quiet. Only soft music and the voices of tired railmen, mercenaries, farmers, couriers and working ladies bubbled through the smoky atmosphere. The occasional bout of laughter, shout or greeting broke the monotony but it was a good place, a warm place away from the dark cold. In the corner a figure with his face mostly covered by the brim of a hat and his shoulders shrouded in a thick woolen overcoat sat with his food and drink and wrote in a thick, leather bound journal. Or at least he had been writing in it. Now he slumped with his feet up on a chair under the table, his charcoal pen steadily falling out of his hand, asleep. The man who sat down next to him didn't stir him in the slightest.

"Hey," The man shoved his shoulder.

He woke with a sharp inhale. His hand immediately went to one of the pistols hidden under his coat, but he stopped short and sized up the person who disturbed him. With a yawn, he took his boots off the chair and straightened up.

"Somethin' I can help you with, mister?" he asked.

The other man was filthy, his clothes covered in dust and stains foul and unmentionable. It had to have been months since he had a shave or a bath... and perhaps a lifetime since he had cleaned his teeth. And yet the dirty clothes were adorned with small momentos, trophies, expensive leathers, pressed coins and rare gems. His hat was fine fur, not felt. One of his rotting teeth was made of gold and gaudy rings adorned his fingers. It all must have cost a fortune. All the red flags flying up and the smell made his head spin, but he stopped from recoiling so as not to cause offense.

"You one o' dem Ranger folk, yeah?" the grizzly man smirked and thumped the steel insignia that pinned up the side of his hat. The winged symbol of a Ranger Scout, "Damn, they sendin' em out young now. How old 're you, boy? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Too, young to be a Ranger, sir," he stretched casually, pulled the brim of the hat further over his eyes and started to close the journal, "Even those bastards don't put kids in the field. My old man pulled this off of some wanderer he shot on our land. Snazy, wouldn't ya say so?"

The rude man slammed his hand down on the journal. There was an uncomfortable silence spreading through the barroom. He slid the journal over to himself and looked at the newest page. A couple texts from papers, a sketched portrait and a crumpled map with a couple of markers were pinned to it and the page before it. Now the Ranger could see a handful of other men, eerily similar in fashion to the one bothering him, looking this way from several tables. He wasn't alone. His fingers wrapped around the butt of a pistol.

"Samuel Belanger..." the man snorted, "Belanger. Now there be a name that makes men shy away and mothers hide their children. You ain't lookin' for 'im are ya, boy?"

"No, Sir. I'm not the type that goes lookin' for trouble. I just like takin' notes on the news I hear from other travelin' folk," he smiled and dared to look the man in the eye, "Ma says I'm strange like that."

The foul man chuckled, deep and husky and shook his head, "Well, that's an interesting hobby, ya got there," he closed the journal and pushed it back, "It's a damn shame, though. Ya know. You bein' out here. Not lookin' for him an' all."

A few of the men who were watching stood from their chairs one by one. Some stayed and came closer, one or two went outside. A few of the lodge patrons started to make their way to their rooms, whispering in hushed voices. The Ranger took up his journal, stowed in his pack and slung the strap over his shoulder. Oh, this was not good.

The man tapped his knuckles on the table, watching the Ranger's every move, "Because ya' fuckin' found him."

The Ranger closed his eyes tightly as if in pain, pressed his lips together and let out a deep sigh through his nose, "Yay," he grumbled.

Without another word, without another split second of hesitation the Ranger bolted under the table and threw the far side upward. It came up between himself and the shouting men, slamming Samuel in the face. He drew a pistol out of the shroud on his shoulders and fired an electrified pulse at the window. The glass splintered with wild white fingers, becoming like a hundred spider's webs. The Ranger threw himself through the weakened glass as the gun fire started. He landed hard and rolled along the cold ground outside with the shards raining down, breaking and finding their way into his clothes. He ran for it. The men who had gone out first were waiting. The pulses and arcs from their guns lit up the night and exploded around the young Ranger as he raced for cover. Pistol still in hand he shot back, hoping to get lucky. One of the bandits was struck in the arm by his short barrage of fire. The limb burned and smoked and he screamed in agony. The Ranger ducked behind the break in between buildings. His shoulders rose and sank as he let out a sharp breath and calmed himself. A dangerously determined look came into his eyes. How much was old Samuel worth these days? Had to be a couple million at the least. Oh, what the Rangers could do with a cold hard million. More guns, more ammo, more vehicles. They might even get one of them newfangled soda water machines that were so popular in the city states. He'd only had one of the sweet drinks once and was convinced it was a substance that had fallen to Acre from the heavens themselves. He smirked. More firepower.

Out from under his coat he dropped a heavy caliber shotgun that had been slung over his shoulder under the rest of his gear, nice and safe. Not so safe any longer... At least not for the bandits. He could hear them coming. The Ranger snapped a long, tube-shaped grenade from his belt, pulled the charge and rolled it to the opening of the alley and backed away quickly. Closer. Closer. The voices were right on top of the trap. Boom. Dust and debris flew over his head and around the cellar housing he had hidden behind. Screaming replaced the yelling. He stepped out from his shelter, the shotgun secured against his shoulder and already aimed down the alley. A few of the men chasing him were still alive. With a only a light squeeze of the trigger the gun kicked hard, expelling hot discharge from the vents and letting loose a smashing electric howl that would surely wake up the whole town if they weren't up already. The spew of charges lit up the barrel before exploding in a bandit's chest, tearing him in half. He acted quickly in shooting the others and left the buildings and ground there covered in burning carnage. Time to go. The Ranger put a set of fresh charges in his teeth, popped out the fried ones and reloaded the gun as he ran for his ATV. It was just outside the main street. He could see it there as the end of the row of buildings came up on him. If he could get to it the bandits would give chase and he could pick them off one by--

Gore ripped out of his left thigh and splattered the ground before he fell on his face. Only after did his ears register the rifle shot... and then he felt the pain.

Cursing loudly, and groaning the Ranger grabbed his hat, struggled to stand and tried to hobble forward, but the leg wouldn't hold weight.

"MOVE AND YOU DIE!" someone yelled from behind him.

He froze, standing on one foot and panting, his vehicle only a few yards away. There were slow, heavy boots crunching up on him.

"Drop the gun," Samuel growled.

The Ranger obeyed, letting the shotgun fall.

"Show me your hands," he demanded. The Ranger could feel the hard muzzle on his back. He slipped his arms out of the overcoat and held them out.

Without warning a heavy hand grabbed his coat and threw him into the wall. He hit hard and found himself on the ground again. When he looked up Samuel and three of his men were standing over him. Sam handed his rifle to one of them. He cracked his knuckles.

"It's a damn shame, indeed," The big man hissed and pulled the Ranger up by his collar, "You got such a pretty face too. Bet the girls just love it."

The Ranger scowled, "You think I'm pretty? Aw shucks. I'm blushing," then he spit in Samuel's face before digging for one of the hidden pistols again.

But it was all to quick. The blow to the left side of his face was brutal. He felt the flesh tear under all the rings and his skull whipped back striking the wall. He had the gun but couldn't focus. Reality was only a blur. The men all laughed in an uproar and cheered on their boss. Another blow came on top of the first ripping upward across his face again. It was followed by another and another and another crushing him until all was dark. He lashed out trying to get a blind strike of his own to land, feeling it slam into the bridge of a nose. A pained grunt preceded series of viscous hits to his ribs and a loud crack. He couldn't breathe. He struggled with the gun that had been finally freed of it's holster. The next jagged punch ripped through his ear and over his scalp. He felt the gun press up against something solid and instinctively pulled the trigger. Acre pulled him down into her clutches once more. Samuel staggered back. He could only see him out of one eye, holding his guts in. His face, neck and fist splattered with blood, skin hanging off the rings. The man stumbled forward and braced himself on the wall. His men held him, yelling words of warning and concern. A small blade clicked out of the toe of his boot before he delivered a bone crushing kick into the Ranger's stomach. Another kick found it's mark as he screamed, "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

The men pulled their dying boss away, aside from one who remained to finish the job. He put his rifle against the Ranger's forehead.

"Ya wou'dn' shoo' a sick kid wit a limp, wou'd ya?" the Ranger sputtered out of broken jaw and a shredded smile. He was going to die here... He was going to die... He knew it had to happen someday. And he had promised on that day he wouldn't go out in fear. Even if it was as messy and unheroic as this he had to be smiling.

The man was distracted by yelling that had broken out once more. The Ranger was fading in and out. What now? The pain was taking over and breathing was too much of a struggle. He felt like he was suffocating. Just get it over with. The man ran away, and left him lying there. He could hear fighting. Gun shots. Breaking bones. Silence. He rolled over and tried to see. A towering figure, bigger than Samuel by far, long legs, old coat, black hat, strode toward him. He said nothing. He only pulled the Ranger up and supported him on a shoulder.

"Don't bother," the Ranger spewed blood and spit with every word. It dribbled out of the gash in his cheek and down his neck with certain words, "If you wanna help there's a journal... I got a journal with coordinates inside the cover... Just... Just go and tell em what happened. Take the body and the hat... not my body. Take... Belanger's body. My hat... take 'em, tell 'em Tony sent ya... and they'll know what to... You'll get money."

The man holding him recoiled and turned his head away from the mess, "For fuck's sake kid, shut up. Damn it all that's disgusting."

"But... Take the body... We're gonna get... soda machine..."

Gabe Kinsley

-ALSO STILL NEEDS PICTURES. CRAM IT-
The kid had tried to pass out on him several times, but a quick nudge had him up and talking nonsense again. He really wished he wouldn't. He could see his teeth through his cheek and the bottom lip on the left side had been torn and hung loose. Not to mention the way his jaw sat offset. The side of his face might as well have been put through a wood chipper. Luckily there had been so much blood he couldn't really make out what was what. Finally, he found someone who could stop the bleeding and stabilize him. However the local doctor wouldn't do any more work for free. Not for strangers who had caused so much trouble.

Out in the Wild tiny sparks of light glittered to life across the deep blue sky. It was quiet. The wind was cold and clean and refreshed his lungs with the calming scents of rust and sage. But there would be no sleep tonight. There had been no sleep in the nights before either. He could not remember the last time he had shut his eyes for more than a few minutes, nor his last meal. Stopping was too risky in this territory, he had little money and the kid didn't have much time.

The large, beat up truck hummed along, its tires bouncing over ruts and bushes and rocks and other obstacles on the desert floor. Bottles, hand-rolled cigarette butts, tools, chains, bullet casings and other miscellaneous items rattled around on the floor and and jostled the kid's unconscious body. Every so often he would make sure he was secure and still had a pulse. The iron armor panels snapped against the chassis with every hit the suspension couldn't take. The cracks in the windscreen squeaked and popped as they readjusted, but still held up under further abuse. He didn't seem to mind. Dust rushed into the air and floated along in soft clouds in the machine's wake.

Even with the absence of a road, leaving only landmarks and stars to guide him to the coordinates he had found in the journal, the man sat in a dreamlike silence as he drove. Calm, nearly bored, as if he had been in this situation countless times over. Only when the ground took a turn upward into the hills did he snap out of it and jam the shifter into a lower gear and engage the rear wheels. The truck's engine groaned and sped up with a growl. The drive train thumped the chassis hard as it came to life. The rugged tires dug hard into the dirt and it climbed as if nothing had changed. The man relaxed once more, lit up a fresh smoke and concentrated on the new challenges of the terrain.

This wasn't smart. Smart would have been leaving the kid to the towns people, taking the outlaw's corpse to the authorities and disappearing again with full pockets. The truck was breaking, he had been wearing the same tattered clothes for years, the pain of never ending hunger and aimlessness nagged at him. The life of an animated corpse. If the kid had been honest there was money in this endeavor and he could also feel like a person again if he made it alive. At least for a little while. Besides... He had nothing better to do. He never had anything better to do other than wait. Damn wasteland.

Soon the hills gave way into a basin guarded by jagged mountain peaks and cliffs, like a set of black teeth biting into the sky. The land was still rough and pockmarked with ravines, ruts, cracks, shallow rises and sudden drops. His teeth clapped together and he found himself clenching his jaw and sitting bolt upright, trying to control the huge unruly vehicle over this barren shit-hole. They were coming up on the coordinates, but there was nothing here. He scratched the short beard that grew on his face and kept his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. The foothills of the mountain range rose up in his way. The coordinates had to be just beyond them. He picked his path carefully through the brush and the short, bushy trees. This truck had been good to him and could make it through most rough spots, but it was no miracle worker and could become stuck easily in the mountains if he weren't careful. The engine whined at him over steep sections and he watched the battery gage closely. The truck cleared a ridge and came down into a deep ravine. At the bottom there was a road. They were here.

The road took him deeper into the canyon where the light from the moons no longer reached. But, up ahead he could make out a tall black tower rising just above the rock. Several others like it stood together further up the mountain. Then there came the fence. He slowed the truck before reaching the gate, growing nervous. He remembered the old rifle that hung on the rack behind the seat. There was no telling what--

A spot light flared and blinded him followed by a siren. He slammed on the brakes and saw an armed man standing guard in the middle of the road. Several others dressed in black, with heavy guns were already upon the truck. They shouted and ordered him out.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES. ON THE GROUND NOW!" One of them forced him down after he got out of the vehicle. He obeyed immediately, not meaning any trouble.

"HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" he complied and his wrists were immediately bound with wire.

"Check the truck. Search him," he heard the man in the middle of the road order. These men all wore similar clothes, all of them bearing metal insignia pins somewhere on their bodies, all of them with their faces covered. Another light was shined in his face as they searched his clothes and padded him down. More men with weapons were coming out of the tall gate. Orders and shouting filled the air. He heard the passenger door open.

"Shit! Got 'im." "Uhg, look at that. Is he--?" "Still alive!" "Wait, ain't that one of the Boss' kids?" "Damn... Get a medic out here! Now!"

"We've got a body!" shouted a man who was searching the back of the truck, where his supplies and the corpse of an outlaw stuffed into a sack were stored. He remained silent and calm. His heart sped up but he breathed easily and stared at the ground with a frown. The commotion seemed to die down a little and a set of black boots stopped in his line of sight.

"Look at me," they ordered.

He looked up with a glare but otherwise kept still in the chaos. The Ranger before him bore a gold, not steel, insignia on his chest, he had a very clean cut beard, broad shoulders and a long black trench coat. A pipe hung in his mouth.

"Start talking. I hear something I don't like and we leave your headless body to the vultures."

TES: Akavir [Vash/DemonTongue]

Mud slicked the steep mountain sides and she struggled to keep her footing on whatever rocks, roots and foliage were available. The snow was finally melting which meant that the accursed Kamal were retreating back to their icy lands, but like the snow a few patches of them still lingered around the Ka-Po-Tun territories. They were getting close to the one they were tracking, she could feel it. About time too. The mud had ruined her boots, splotched her leggings up to the thigh, clung to the back of her battle dress and scuffed the scabbard of her sword. If she could keep her balance she wouldn't be digging it out of the armor on her left shoulder and arm... but things never went the way she wanted. The Dunmer woman reached the top of the rolling peak. The wind tossed her hair around but left her motionless. Behind her lay the low valley with the farms and terraces already beginning to be cleared by the farmers. Ahead, a deep cut in the mountains followed by ever higher and higher peaks that barricaded these lands from the immense central desert of Akavir. She limped to a boulder and reclined on it. She would only need a moment. Damn hip had never been the same since that first winter.

Standing tall, a dark red scarf covering his neck and mouth, the Guardan came from behind the rock, having scouted ahead. He stood next to her with his hand on the pommel of his sword that sat on his hip sheathed in the leather scabbard. His armor was covered by extra lining to protect his heat-sensitive skin from the cold. He held out his hand to the woman before him. He stood a foot taller than her, towering over her. He took his hand off of the pommel and lowered his scarf, his mandables twitching slightly, unable to make much more than a crooked smile. "Are you feeling well enough to continue the hunt, milady?"

S'Kylir twisted her thin lips into a smirk when looking up at her companion, "I could ask the same of you, Septimus. You should have brought another coat." She accepted his hand and with his help rose to her feet with the utmost grace and straightened her gear and hair. "However, with that option long in the past I suppose our pace could be intensified. If you could keep up, that is."

His mandibles twitched a little as he scanned the landscape, listening to her talk. "The target is not that far away, milady. The pace we have will be fine, though I can lend you my sword should you need something to lean on in the future."

A coy smile spread across her face and she looked away from him to keep the better part of it hidden, "Proposing a lady lean on your sword just like that? How very forward of you." With that she picked up the trail again. The enticement of a good fight taking the edge off the stiffness and cold. It wasn't long before they had dropped down the rocky slopes where twisted pines and cedars dared to cling and stretch their branches. A small, icy stream burbled at the base. The high walls of earth on either side blocked most of the sun and kept the hidden area cool, but there was another sort of chill in the air. Unearthly, stinging, and nauseating. They were upon the demon. So where was the damn beast? S'Kylir surveyed their surroundings intently and stepped lightly. She had already drawn her sword, the dark blade shining deep reds and oranges along it's flat like an oil spill. Finding high ground up on a ledge she could still feel the chill. Her eyes narrowed into translucent red slits.

"Where are you?" she hissed.

He kept above her, watching the area around her. He would be able to descend upon the creature in a moment's notice whenever it showed. His own sword was drawn, reflecting the sun's rays. He scanned the area, watching for every movement.

Thick silence amplified every little noise of the forest. Her ears twitched at all of them, but mentally she passed them over. Until a branch snapped behind her. Immediately she spun toward the trees. More branches snapped and rocks and dirt were sent flying as the frozen terror charged down the ravine at her. It's mangled body wrought from a selection of corpses man and beast alike, splintered iron, decaying clothing and undying ice. It's jagged mouth torn open in a silent scream emanating only a breathy hiss that seemed to suck the very life out of the trees and the wind. The Dunmer took her stance and readied the blade in the split second she had. The demon lunged at her, multiple arms and claws stretched to eviscerate her. She flowed low and snapped up catching it in the belly with an arching sting of her blade. She yelled with the force of the blow and swept her opponent over her head and off the ledge into the stream below. It impacted hard and slowly collected itself and turned to her again with a deeper swell rumbling in it's chest. She glared it down, beckoning it to make another move.

Dropping down from above and in front of her, his descent was careful, the fall onto the rocks just below the ledge to springboard himself lower. The beast ran from the stream at him and launched itself at him, but Septimus sidestepped him and flipped his sword, catching the beast in the back and slamming it into the ground. He planted his foot onto the beast's back, holding it down so he could plant his sword into it's head, silencing it.

Not yet sheathing her sword she climbed down quickly and took long elegant strides toward Septimus and his kill. There she stood next to him and looked down on the body with a frown. "Good work," she nodded. Then she reached into a pouch on her belt and removed a ceramic bottle. She held it away from herself, over the body. With one hand she removed the long, cork and let some of the clear, sticky fluid stream out. But she only left the bottle open for a few moments before corking it swiftly and making sure the seal was tight. The liquid on the body smoked after a few more seconds until it billowed into the air and ignited. The corpse and the ground around it was soon engulfed by the hellfire created by the Ka-Po-Tun alchemists in the Imperial City. Even the ice of the Kamal could not withstand it's heat for long and it was one of few ways to make sure the demons stayed dead. S'Kylir watched it burn with an eerie calm.

He pulled his blade from the Kamal's head as it was ingulfed in flame, dipping it in the stream to remove the taint of magical potion from it. "I h-Strongly dislike it when you perform such actions. Taking off the head is just as effective." He sheathed it and placed his hand on the pommel. "Where to next?"

"If one does not intend to be thourough the task should not be started in the first place," she said slowly, "I would much rather not leave the remains of these creatures lying around." She shifted her weight, breathed deeply, looked up and down the ravine and eyed the Guardan with concern, "We should continue north and help to press the Kamal back into the wastes. But I suggest we stop at the next village on the main road and rest," she rolled out the shoulder of her sword arm which popped, much to her dissatisfaction, "Wouldn't want you to freeze to death."

TES: Akavir [Vash/DemonTongue]

Factions and Races

Miraluk - The Water Elves

The Miraluk are a very mysterious race from the deep southern, unexplored, isles. The only reason they are known of are due to their emergence just before the third era. Over history, one or two came to shore, looking to trade before disappearing into the murky depths. How they reached back home is a mystery.

In Akavir, there is one known Miraluk on the island: Myra. Captured by a prison ship as it was delivering prisoners to the island, she is the only known specimen.Unfortunately for her, the ship wrecked near the dangerous Akavirian shores, but she was injured. She was later found by a man named Woland Arttuchak at first she was apprehensive of the man, unwilling to even talk to him, fearing that he was no more than just another man that wanted to violate her, but his constant kindness and protection eventually caused her to open up, accept him, and even fall in love.

Basing off of her, one can see that her species is very thin and pale, almost blue, skinned. Pointy ears and fast growing green hair, they are a very elegant species, used to traveling in the water. They walk with a long gait and take ultra-precise movements in everything they do. While she is more than capable of traveling on land, it is very dangerous for her. Her species needs water to survive. If she strays away from water for more than a day, she'll die. Thankfully, Woland's home is situated in a cove.

As said before, she is very thin, nearly half the width of any man. Her hair reaches down to her calves and she is very slender, yet athletic in build. She has no pupils, just light green eyes. At times, she emits particles of light. She is very strong in magic, able to wield water itself as a weapon. She is a very shy person, not enjoying people other than Woland and will actively defend herself if somebody she doesn't know gets too close.

Her species also lives very very long lives due to rarely coming in contact with air. The water preserves their bodies and keeps them from rapidly aging, even if they are not in constant water. According to Myra, the oldest elder of her people was two thousand years old. She herself is 546, considered a "young woman" by her people. She is about the same maturity level as a 27 year old woman but with hundreds of years of experience.

The Guarnad

Guarnad. (Goo-arr-nod)
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Guarnad are a noble avian-like race from the mountains, military based and very regal. Taking great pride in their social status and personal skills. Most are perfectionists and seek to excel in anything they do. Their race is quite well known to have some of the best warriors and blacksmiths, with very few rivals. The gender differences are small, but noticeable. Females are typically slimmer and a little more feminine in shape. They are equal in abilities and either side can do as they wish with their skills. A master blacksmith can be either a man or a woman, it does not matter. More on this as I develop it.

They also are a race almost entirely devoted to the sword, shunning magic in it's entirety. They utilize not only expert swordsmanship and marksmanship in battle, but alchemical bombs that, once thrown down, can disable magic for a small time in a small area. The bigger the bomb, the bigger the area and longer the time. They can bind the bombs to their arrows as well to disable enemies from afar. They guard the secret to the making of this bomb with their lives.

They also very often decorate their faces with permanent colored tattoos, signifying their home city and family.

Their home is high in the mountains outside of the Tsaesci lands, separating the Tsaesci from the ka po'tun. Their Capital city is Palaven.

Government:
The Guarnad government, known as the Guarnad Hierarchy, is a hierarchical meritocracy. While it has great potential for misuse, this is tempered by the civic duty and personal responsibility turians learn during their childhood.

Guarnad have 27 citizenship tiers, beginning with civilians (client races and children). The initial period of military service is the second tier. Formal citizenship is conferred at the third tier, after boot camp. For client races, citizenship is granted after the individual musters out. Higher-ranked citizens are expected to lead and protect subordinates. Lower-ranking citizens are expected to obey and support superiors. Promotion to another tier of citizenship is based on the personal assessment of one's superiors and co-rankers. At the top are the Primarchs, who each rule a colonization cluster. The Primarchs vote on matters of national importance. They otherwise maintain a "hands-off" policy, trusting the citizens on each level below them to do their jobs competently.

Throughout their lives, Guarnad ascend to the higher tiers and are occasionally "demoted" to lower ones. The stigma associated with demotion lies not on the individual, but on those who promoted him when he wasn't ready for additional responsibility. This curbs the tendency to promote individuals into positions beyond their capabilities. Settling into a role and rank is not considered stagnation. Guarnad value knowing one's own limitations more than being ambitious.

Guarnad enjoy broad freedoms. So long as one completes his duties, and does not prevent others from completing theirs, nothing is forbidden. For example, there are no laws against recreational drug use, but if someone is unable to complete his duties due to drug use, his superiors step in. Judicial proceedings are 'interventions.' Peers express their concern, and try to convince the offender to change. If rehabilitation fails, Guarnad have no qualms about sentencing dangerous individuals to life at hard labor for the state.

Ssythian and Tsurask

Ssythian (Suh-sith-ian)- Primarily from blackmarsh, their homes being near Soulrest. Their females are very snakelike while the males are Argonians.

Females are mostly very slim and agile, but their tails weigh them down until they are taught how to move with it much more easily. Their skin tones have a massive range depending on where they grow up. Due to their border with Elsweyr and the sea, their skin can come in most any colors. Most however are dark gray to green.
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Males are human like and are almost identical to male Argonians aside from skin tones having just as wide a range as the females.
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In Akavir, there is a second tribe of Ssythian, but they are called the Tsurask (Tss-err-ask). This tribe is similar but wildly different. The roles of male and female are switched via the massive change of region.

The land of the Tsurask is more desert-like, with rocky terrain and canyons. There are plenty of oasis where the Tsurask can grow and support itself, just like their Ssythian counterparts, their skin tones are wildly diverse.

The females are human-like, but very agile. They are much like the Argonians, but with very human-like facial features and tails.
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The males are much slower, their bodies being very broad and large, taking defensive roles and using large weapons. They rarely use their bodies against their enemies, unlike their female counterpart. Some even take up knight-like roles. They are able to grow extra skin and even "Fins" to protect their much bulkier bodies from the sun.

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The Dark Brotherhood

The Dark Brotherhood was destroyed after the true dragonborn surfaced, choosing to eliminate them instead of assist them. Sithis and the night mother were forced to rebuild over the next couple centuries, the brotherhood utterly eradicated, they built it from the ground up yet again, the Night mother's body being strung along by expert smugglers and rogues. The Brotherhood began in skyrim and grew, finding it's way to the farthest reaches of the world. From Atmora to Black Marsh, Thras to Hammerfel. After two centuries they finally reached the shores of Akavir and have begun building a conclave there. Some sources even say that they have Conclaves in the Aldmeri Dominion and several of the Daedric Realms as well, however these are often rumors bred by the public, spread by agents to create strife and wonder among the populous...who knows if there is any truth to the accusations?

They are much more powerful now, Sithis and the Night Mother, their powers being varied and wonderous, able to enact curses and nightmares on targets or bring enlightenment or pleasure to the worthy. They are very powerful and are a force to be reckoned with as they together have rebuilt the dark brotherhood to be a dominant, hidden, force in Nirn and possibly even beyond.

The Walensium

Name: The Walensium - The Ladies of the Forest
Race: Comprised of all races of Tamriel and Akavir
History: The "Ladies of the forest" are an ancient faction that was a small splinter faction of the first prisoners on the island comprised of mostly women and a few men. They fled into deep woods on akavir inside the Ka-po-Tun. They made their homes there, hidden from the monstrous other races, using guerrilla warfare to their advantage. Eventually, the races stopped attacking them, believing them to have been taken by the forest. They settled and reproduced. At first, they lived normally, but there was mix breeding and a refusal of inbreeding. There was a domination of women as well, men dying out quickly due to a dominant gene. The women went out, kidnapping men of all races and taking them back to the forest to be unwilling participants in the future of the race. This resulted in a mixture of all races, both prisoner and native. Mix breed and otherwise, female dominant.

Being of the forest, they quickly adapted, learning the secrets of the forest, becoming more agile, keen, and steady. They took up the bow, becoming rangers and guardians of the forest. Eventually they took on the name that was said of them in stories of the world outside, "The Ladies of the Forest".

They have no allies, nor enemies. Remaining neutral protectors of the forest. They degenerated enough to have forgotten basic dialects, developing their own in it's place. They are highly skilled marksman, refining their skills over several generations. They are master trapmakers and are very deadly.

The Alvum

Also known as "The Hive"

The Alvum are a highly dangerous and especially powerful daedric realm that has surfaced in recent years. Previously completely unknown among all the Daedric princes and princesses. The Alvum is an organism that feeds primarily upon Daedra of all types, their infinitely respawning lives providing the best food source for the Alvum. Their forces are focused on the daedric realms, but when they require new soldiers, they travel to nirn to attack the races of tamriel and beyond, their fleshy, malleable bodies providing the best structure to house Alvum young.

There are three castes of Alvum.

The Hunter caste
The first and least dangerous of the castes, the Hunters are comprised of the "Warriors" and the "Hunters"

The Warrior Is a powerful quadruped that is often employed as a forward scout or highly dispensable troop. Each of their legs has a razor sharp point to it and can pierce most armor, and they have phenomenal movement prowess, able to run on walls, ceilings, and jump to great heights. They are able to run faster than almost any human and some daedra.

The Hunter is the most dangerous of the hunter caste, giving it it's name. They are not directly potent, but are the first troops into the battlefield, relaying enemy troop numbers, landscape, and weaknesses to their bretheren. They are able to phase through almost any wall except for magical barriers and are even able to possess humans and daedra to return to the hive's brood chambers for use.

The Breeder Caste
What many consider to be the most terrifying of the castes. The Breeder caste is where many of the captured humans and Daedra are taken to to be...breeded with.

The Matron, also known as the mother, the Matrons are rarely on the battlefield, but are instead within the Daedric Realm itself, spreading their seeds into the victims of being captured. With razor sharp leg-points, talons, and jaws, the Matron is a deadly combatant up close. When on the battlefield, they charge their prey and disable them, often slicing off the legs, then holding them down, clamping down on their mouth with their jaws, they'll force feed them several dozen eggs that will be hatched mere moments later, spewing combat ready soldiers out of the victim's stomach. Many victims are brought back to their lairs and forced to live the rest of their magically enhanced lives as breeding factories for their wars on all the other Daedric realms.

The Child: These are the spawns of the Matrons. A smaller, less deadly version of the Hunter, the Child will fiercely defend the Matron. Outright killing most any attacker or disabling and dragging them back to the Matron to breed more soldiers. They are not to be underestimated, despite being half the size of human children.

The Legion Caste
The most dangerous and lethal of all the castes, the Legion is comprised of the forward soldiers and magic wielders of the Alvum.

The Thrall The results of Daedra and Human that become useless to the Matrons. The Alvum warp their bodies and minds to be useful cannon fodder for the Legion, serving as distractions so the other soldiers could close in or as a forward force. They have razor sharp talons and often ignore all pain until they have been beheaded.

The Knight. A massive warrior standing nearly twelve feet tall, wielding a beyond-razor-sharp blade for a right arm, these are the machines of war for the Alvum. Hardened armor, the only weakspots are their eyes and lightning magic. They can summon an impenetrable shield at any time, can bust through wooden gates, and are more than enough to handle a small legion of imperial soldiers. They are on equal grounds with the Daedras, but are slowly gaining ground.

The Warlock. The mages of the Alvum, wielding massive telekinetic power and secret magics that allow the preservation of life and the ability to create portals wherever they wish. When multiple wizards come together they can create massive portals for their armies to move through. They are easily able to lift and throw humans at will and crush them as well. They are intensely deadly enemies, but almost entirely rely on magic to move and live. The Guardans are a massive threat to them, as well as dispel spells.

Messorem. The "God" that is driving the Alvum forces, sharing a hive mind with them. He is able to contact any of them at any time and direct troops where needed. Messorem is a deadly adversary, taller than a knight and wielding a scythe of unknown material, he often takes the battlefield with "his children" to slaughter the Daedra with an almost cheerful demeanor.

TES: Akavir [Vash/DemonTongue]

Characters

S

"Ma'Kylir never lets them see her cry," the Khajiit growled through his teeth in pain. The Dunmer child frantically tried to wipe away the tears flowing from her eyes, only smearing her cheeks with dark blood for more tears to trace paths through. She couldn't take her hands away from the wound for too long. Blood poured from the gash in the massive warrior's gut and pooled in the sand. The ragged cloth under her small hands had become soaked and useless, but still she tried to stop the bleeding. She sniffled and gasped on the breaths her shaking body was trying to choke down.
"I-- I can't stop it," she squeaked.
"Look here, kitten," he hissed and reached for her arm.
She squirmed away still trying to keep pressure on the wound, "P'ah, no I need to--"
A single paw snared both her slender wrists and ripped her around to look into the black cat's yellow eyes. "Look!," he roared at her before choking for a few moments, "Leave this one. Leave this place."
"No!" she fought against him in vain, "I'm staying with you!"
"Ma'Kylir..." he sighed, "It is good to be brave, but it is necessary to run away."
She shook her head but knew better than to look away from him for too long, "You always say that. I-- I won't! I'm not leaving!" she sobbed and shivered as she felt his blood starting to pool around her knees.
"You were not meant for these lands or this life," he whispered weakly, "You must run. They will find us soon."
She shook her head again, clenching her teeth against a wobbling chin and another flow of heavy tears. She slumped over, putting her head on his chest and clinging to him as her body was wracked with her sobbing. Her face was hidden under matted locks of wild red hair. The unbeatable warrior was already growing cold.
"You grow strong, and clever and defiant... even to your great father," he chuckled, "I raised you well. This once, kitten, listen to your P'ah. Leave."
The girl rose up, ready to fight back once more, but dust on the horizon signaled that the soldiers were upon them. She looked at the dust then back at her father. He clumsily wiped the bloodied tears from her face with a thumb.
"Ma'Kylir never lets them see her cry."

---

"You caught the thieves?" The commander asked the Imperial soldier reporting.
"We arrested the gray-skin girl," he nodded, "We wounded the cat before they could leave town. The beast was already dead when we caught up to them, Sir."
The commander shrugged, "Good enough. She was the one we needed to question anyway."
"Sir, she stabbed one of my men in the neck when we arrested her."
"So put it in the report."
"He's dead, Sir! She should be executed regardless of her age!"
"There is unrest in the east and the Emperor may have use for her. Would you like to be the one to disobey His Majesty?"
The soldier was quiet a moment, "No, Sir."
"Back to your post then. The girl will be shipped off to the Imperial City prisons in the morning as planned."

---

The storm, the sound of waves smacking the side of the hull, the moisture that never seemed to stop clinging to her skin and most of all the smell. That hot, fetid, yet somehow sweet smell. She was still reeling from the events of the past few months when she stepped onto the docks of Seyda Neen. She scowled at the ship's crew, she scowled at the captain, and she scowled at the Imperial guard who came out to meet her. He was a credit to his race to be sure. Every stride was strong and purposefully placed. He stood straight with shoulders back and chest puffed. One hand wrapped around the hilt of his gladius, ever at the ready. When he spoke it was like velvet. He chose his words carefully in a masterful display of charisma and tact.
"We've been expecting you, Miss. Welcome to Morrowind and to the island of Vvardenfell," he said with a kind smile. He even went so far as to bow to her, "If you'll just follow me to the end of the docks to the Census and--"
"Imperial scum," she hissed as she pushed passed him roughly, "I'll find my own way."
The wrinkled balding man at the Census and Excise Office slid a stack of papers across the desk along with a pen. The Dunmer child looked between him and the paperwork. It was obvious she was vastly unimpressed with the whole process. She frowned and rolled the pen around slowly.
"If you don't mind," he started, "I'll need you to read over these papers--"
"I can't read," she interrupted.
"And fill in the appropriate information--" he continued.
"I can't write," she growled.
He sighed and looked at her from under sagging eye lids for what seemed an eternity. She glared right back. The old man took the papers from her and slid them back infront of himself and began to scrawl into various sections.
"What is your name?" he asked quietly.
"Ma'Ky--" she stopped and thought a moment, "S'Kylir," she replied.
"That's a Khajiiti name, isn't it? How does a mer come by such an... unusual title?" he jotted it down regardless.
She rose and leaned forward on the desk, "Is there something wrong with it?" she asked in a very low, very quiet voice.
He glanced up into her burning eyes, barely visible through the unkempt wild mess of long red hair.
"No," he responded.
With a flutter of robes and papers he bolted up from his chair and whisked the paperwork into a tight, neat roll and wrapped them with a small length of jute. He was careful not to look at the little demon child. The roll was thrust into her chest where she snatched it away roughly.
"You will present these papers to the lieutenant in the next building. He will have orders for you. If you choose not to follow them you will be considered a deserter of the Imperial Army. In which case you will not be sent back to the dungeons of Cyrodiil. You will remain in the dungeons of Fort Ebonhart here in Vvardenfell and believe me..." He finally looked at her, "Your kind have ways of breaking a prisoner that cannot be repaired."
She ignored him and stomped through the door that the guard opened for her.

Cael Dursus & Kardryn

The hull of the blasted Aldmeri monstrosity was as foul as the depths of Oblivion. Most of the passengers were prisoners in chains. Undesirables, traitors, petty criminals, people who knew too much, people who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, enemies of The Dominion. Some were passengers who had paid for passage to another world. It was a risk to leave it all behind and traverse into an untamed land where death was more likely than the freedom they were seeking. However, considering the abysmal and terrifying state Tamriel had fallen into, the risk was well worth it to those with enough desperation or fortitude. A large man hunched, cloaked, hooded and masked who sat silent and still belonged to the latter group. Prisoners and passengers alike were stuffed into the same dark, stinking hole. Little light, no beds and save for what they had brought on their backs, no food and filthy water. It had been three days since they had left port in Mournhold. Just as many prisoners had already died. Instead of throwing the bodies overboard the Aldmeri soldiers who crewed the ship simply left them to fester. Hopefully it wouldn't be long now. He would survive, but the little passenger inside his cloak was starting to slip away.

In the sparse glimmer of sunlight the trickled in through the grate that lead down into the hull he was able to examine it. Very carefully he fished the little burlap bag of soil out of it's pocket. The tiny pastel leaves poking out of the fabric around a tightly sealed bud, which were normally plump and waxy, were limp, thin and dry. His eyes flashed to the grate, open just enough for the soldiers to slip in and out of at their leisure. It was nearly dusk. They had been told not to go on deck, but a punishment had never been spoken of and nobody had tried for fear of the often brutal methods used by the elves. He lightly touched one of the vulnerable little leaves. He wasn't afraid. With aching and stiff muscles and joints he rose from the wooden bench and slid through the throngs of unwashed people and silently slipped up the large ladder and onto the deck.

With only one or two soldiers on patrol he was able to slip out of sight easily. He made his way to the front of the ship and dropped down to one of the catwalks below the main deck. It rattled under his weight and shifted. He stood still, listening and feeling his surroundings. He took a deep breath. Luck was on his side today else the rusty steel may have snapped under his feet leaving him to plummet into the ocean. The last rays of sun still glinted through the clouds that would be rolling in tonight. There wasn't much left but it would be enough for the starving seedling. He crouched slowly, and sat with his legs crossed before pulling it back out again so the sun could touch the leaves and hopefully refresh them. He let out a muffled sigh.

The wind was icy and damp and pulled at his cloak and pack. The last days of Frostfall were passing them by and soon a harsh winter would take the place of a hellish summer. He wondered what the seasons, plants and animals would be like on Akavir. Alien and strange probably, but would they be just as beautiful as the changes and life cycles of his first home in Cyrodiil had once been? Or would the landscape be war-torn and barren as it had become?

"You there!" a shout came from above him followed by dashing footsteps. He jumped to his feet and considered running but there was no point. He couldn't risk fighting back and the only place he could run was back the the hull. He waited for the young Aldmeri decked out in immaculate golden armor, clean shaven with long flaxen hair plaited perfectly down his back to reach him before putting the plant back in it's pocket inside his cloak. He glared up into the youth's dark eyes.

"What are you doing here!?" he stood straight and shouted.

He didn't respond.

"Speak, wretch!" the elf snarled.

He stood still and watched his every move with fiery orange eyes, the only part of his face that was visible under the mask, bandanna and hood.

The soldier raised a club over his shoulder ready to strike, "Fine. I'll loosen that tongue!"

"Cadet," A low, raspy voice stopped his hand.

The young elf dropped his arm and wheeled around to face a ragged figure that was walking slowly toward them, "S-Sir!" he stood at attention immediately, "Warden Kardryn, this passenger is trespassing on deck and he refuses to answer when questioned. Allow me to punish him."

"That one's mute," the Warden said matter-of-factly.

As he got closer the man in the cloak could make out the bastardized pieces of elven armor that once must have been part of an exquisite uniform, but which were now tarnished, torn down and refurbished with leather and furs and straps to make them more adequate for battle and the hard life on board a cramped airship. The Warden had a long, thin pipe clutched in his teeth and was whittling away at a piece of wood. Messy auburn hair flowed over his face and shoulders but he could just make out a strap of leather covering one of his eyes.

The Cadet hesitated a moment, but spoke again, "That does not excuse him from leaving the hull, Sir."

Kardryn was now uncomfortably close to the young elf. Just a few extra inches of height let him look down on his subordinate, "Get back to your post, Lord Tight-Britches. I'll take care of it." The Cadet obeyed but not without scowling over his shoulder as he strode away. With a hoarse sigh Kardryn dropped down and sat on the catwalk with his legs dangling through the railing, "Sorry about that, the newcomers are so fresh out of the divine system's cunt they're still wet behind the ears." He looked up at the masked man and smiled warmly and continued his carving. "Don't worry, I'm not sending you back below just yet. Not sure I could take someone your size in a fight anyhow," he chuckled.

Cautiously, the man sat down along side the Aldmer and pulled the seedling back out to breathe and sun.

"Everything about this place is disgusting isn't it? We'll be on the southern shores of Akavir by tomorrow evening. Lucky you. You get to get off this pile of horse shit. I'd get away from the prisoners quick, though if I were you. They aren't there by choice, got nothing to lose and don't have the well-being of the whole in mind. If you're a saint you'll grab a woman or two while you're busy running away from them," Kardryn went on and the man had long since started to stare at him intently.

Webs of old scars ran out from the eye patch but his other eye was deep brown, warm and still bright, even for the dark circle under it. It didn't seem like he was going to stop talking any time soon, though every word was so raspy and dry it sounded like it hurt. Braids fastened with beads, bones and other talismans were matted into his hair, which was flecked with a strand of gray here and there. Quite the opposite to common high elven fashion. It was all wrong. The long fingers were scarred, but still dexterous and soft. There weren't enough wrinkles on his face. While the elegant middle aged members of his species became chiseled like stone, he still had a roundness to his face. He was too young. Far too young to be in this condition. And yet people like him were common these days in Tamriel. Those who had seen too much, given up on everything and started to rot away before their time.

Eventually the sun set and the air grew too cold. The masked man put the little treasure away into the warmth and the Warden had no choice but to lead him back to the hull... without a punishment.

---

They all filed out into the brilliance of the Akaviri sun. The airship was a clamorous mess while the land was silent. They had touched down on a rocky beach covered in foliage he had never seen the likes of before. Massive tall trees with long fronds at the very top, curling vines, bright flowers, ferns larger than any on Tamriel, scrubs and mosses that covered every damp surface in shades of acid green and slate blue, and basin like leaves that poked out among the stumps of trees to catch the rains. The hum of insects could be heard deeper in the thick forest if one could tune out the noise of the soldiers and their machine. While the air above the ocean had been cold, the humidity, sun and millions upon billions of breathing, thriving living things on the continent made it uncomfortably warm for being so late in the year. For now he remained hidden underneath the sweltering clothes. He would have to. The Warden and the Captain of the ship were kind enough to separate the prisoners from the passengers who started to file off while the prisoners while released from their chains. All the while at the end of long, steel contraptions, not unlike a staff pointed at them. He watched the scene once clear of the soldiers and started to pack up what he didn't need to wear.

The cloak first revealing the hand axe he carried at his hip and several satchels. Then the mask which had been covering the dark veins that spread from his mouth, eyes and ears. Rolling up his sleeves revealed more of them webbing his arms and the back of his hands. He spit on the ground and wiped his mouth. Such a relief. He considered the bandanna next but heard someone behind him. He turned with a frown. There was nothing they could do to him on this soil. Nobody could touch him here. There were no laws. He would kill them. It was only the Warden who stopped and smirked.

"Came to tell you, we've heard rumors of a settlement of exiles to the west and thought you might be able to find sanctuary there... Or maybe not," He said looking him up and down, "Anyway, good luck out there and thanks for letting me prattle on at you... uh..."

The man smiled and snorted, showing off rows of jagged teeth and shook his head. He crouched and with a finger wrote a word in the sand. Kardryn watched.

"Cael?"

Cael stood and nodded while unfastening the bandanna. He refastened the tie around his long black hair and scratched his scalp. Freedom.

"Well then..." Kardryn pursed his lips, "Good luck, Cael... and yeah. I would stay away from the exile settlement. Things here are weird but not quiet as weird as that," he laughed and gestured at the short black horns that swept out of the man's forehead and back along his skull.

He nodded, finished packing his things, fastened the seedling to a safe spot on his pack and set out into the wild. Nobody could touch him here.

TES: Akavir [Vash/DemonTongue]

WIP Will be getting things up today/tonight.