'Hectic week' seemed descriptive enough to me.
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Well, I am, but I guess the others are busy. I think Cas is trying to calm down from a hectic week.
She was wondering just what kept anyone, when who should appear but Tatter, with a quick entrance and a funny quip. Star chuckled at this, saying "I am feeling better, honest.". The demon did, after all, feel kind of bad about her earlier outburst way further down into the dark recesses of the the Cathedral. It was never her intention to shout at Volaris like that. It was just that the Supreme Ones were the greatest, the wisest, and the most powerful of Yggdrasil. It didn't seem possible that nearly all of them could be consumed with the world as their domain passed through to this place. It shook her belief, for a while. These people were important to her, and now most of them were gone. That'll make anybody's day HELL, but at least her mood had improved. A bit of violence HAD helped, to be honest.
Now, she was about to explain about her return with a prisoner, since Tatter had mentioned that she would need a good reason to break stealth. Star had one, but the Ubergeist interrupted both her AND Lucius, who was attempting to make himself known. The reason, though... That was a good one. She noticed kind of the same problem that Tatter did, actually.
"Yeah, he does look pretty bad, doesn't he? If you could make him more stable, but maybe leave the wings hurt? I don't want to have to chase if he tries to leave. That could get irritating."
Not difficult, just annoying. He couldn't get away, but if he started running, she was gonna sic the Manticores on him. Number-15 was suppose to be especially frisky right now. Could end up chewing him quite badly...
"Oh! Uhh... Anyway, the reason I came back is because I got some royalty. He is King Lucius of...ummm..."
Well, this was awkward. Star looked at Lucius, her expression one of puzzlement.
"Sorry, where do you come from again?"
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Dremoria... That was the name of the place, this country. He was disguised as King Lucius of Dremoria, and he was SO badass right now. The guards were eating this up. Either that, or they were very good liars. Either way, it would all become extremely entertaining. The great wall loomed before them, and as the gate opened, Garlock could see what all the bustle he had been hearing beyond it was in reality. It was an outpost, a big camp to guard the wall. This was border guard stuff, no doubt with patrols going up and down the length of it to the next base and the next. Are you getting all this down, shadow? It was all going to be important later...for as long as it was intact.
They all went to a medical tent, no doubt to get him fixed up. Good. He wanted to rock some mobility in this form, at least. Walking was only fun when he knew he was goofing off. This...was still fun and games, but it was a different kind. It wa the kind with some stakes on the table and something to lose. True, they had more to lose, but HE wanted to ponce about as King. Can't do that if you don't play the game. So saying, he still needed to play like he was an aging warlord trying to maintain his strength throughout now, as the captain got an obvious slave to get to work as he was placed upon a cot. Alskyra would have no trouble applying medicine or healing magic, dependent on what he had to work with. Since Garlock was not undead, he would not be hurt by actual healing power. However, since his health as at full, he would have to fake his recovery by making his form look like it was gonna mend itself according to his methods. Right now, of course, he looked like he was at the limits of a man, the state of a man who's been through hell and needed a fairly-sizable remedy.
"If that is all there is, then let it commence. Make quick your work, healer. I have much to do, and I don't intend to lay dormant for long."
Now, she was about to explain about her return with a prisoner, since Tatter had mentioned that she would need a good reason to break stealth. Star had one, but the Ubergeist interrupted both her AND Lucius, who was attempting to make himself known. The reason, though... That was a good one. She noticed kind of the same problem that Tatter did, actually.
"Yeah, he does look pretty bad, doesn't he? If you could make him more stable, but maybe leave the wings hurt? I don't want to have to chase if he tries to leave. That could get irritating."
Not difficult, just annoying. He couldn't get away, but if he started running, she was gonna sic the Manticores on him. Number-15 was suppose to be especially frisky right now. Could end up chewing him quite badly...
"Oh! Uhh... Anyway, the reason I came back is because I got some royalty. He is King Lucius of...ummm..."
Well, this was awkward. Star looked at Lucius, her expression one of puzzlement.
"Sorry, where do you come from again?"
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Dremoria... That was the name of the place, this country. He was disguised as King Lucius of Dremoria, and he was SO badass right now. The guards were eating this up. Either that, or they were very good liars. Either way, it would all become extremely entertaining. The great wall loomed before them, and as the gate opened, Garlock could see what all the bustle he had been hearing beyond it was in reality. It was an outpost, a big camp to guard the wall. This was border guard stuff, no doubt with patrols going up and down the length of it to the next base and the next. Are you getting all this down, shadow? It was all going to be important later...for as long as it was intact.
They all went to a medical tent, no doubt to get him fixed up. Good. He wanted to rock some mobility in this form, at least. Walking was only fun when he knew he was goofing off. This...was still fun and games, but it was a different kind. It wa the kind with some stakes on the table and something to lose. True, they had more to lose, but HE wanted to ponce about as King. Can't do that if you don't play the game. So saying, he still needed to play like he was an aging warlord trying to maintain his strength throughout now, as the captain got an obvious slave to get to work as he was placed upon a cot. Alskyra would have no trouble applying medicine or healing magic, dependent on what he had to work with. Since Garlock was not undead, he would not be hurt by actual healing power. However, since his health as at full, he would have to fake his recovery by making his form look like it was gonna mend itself according to his methods. Right now, of course, he looked like he was at the limits of a man, the state of a man who's been through hell and needed a fairly-sizable remedy.
"If that is all there is, then let it commence. Make quick your work, healer. I have much to do, and I don't intend to lay dormant for long."
Remember, you're in a dark stairwell now. Do please weigh in on the dark, the enemy, the situation, and all thae since you're not currently being attacked.
Zen's plan, Cassius' order - it didn't matter. They were headed for the nearest stairwell in an organized fashion. As they progressed, the question of actually destroying the X and of ammo was raised by the dragon. Not even pausing in his duty to destroy, the android replied thusly...
"The free-floating X are, at best, inconvenienced by our current weaponry, due to their higher resistance to attack. They are barely able to bring any harm to us, in turn, due to our protective fields. The problem of ammunition may be solved one of two ways: First, that an armory will carry either the stores to re-arm your weapon or entire new weapons to use instead. Or second, that power is restored to allow the use of a Recharge Station to instantly process new ammunition for all current weapons."
Indeed. Armories could contain power packs and energy cells of compatible with various weapons, or solid ammo containers for your various other weapons. More importantly, it was an armory, so it would probably have weapons and ammo available in accordance with whatever was stored here. And as for Recharge Stations, well... They were fully-functional synthesizers of ANY applicable ammo, regardless of the weapons. It scanned 'em, processed the materials, and supplied them to full, including spare ammo containers that you might have that were deplated. Isn't modern technology wonderful?
Speaking of decent tech, Amber's specimen gathering yielded some results. That is, the AI of her suit began to analyze the contents of her container for her and displayed what it found within the limits of a mobile scanner's abilities. To wit, it found that the rather disgusting material the Zombies were composed of was degraded organic compounds originating from human flesh. The cells had been either dead or dying, the human having been killed in some fashion, and this was what had been produced once the human body had begun taking on X. The 'melty' appearance and the zombie-like status was therefore due to a 'Garbage in, garbage out' effect. Already dead tissues forced into animation via regenerative properties will not become a human form. It will become some horrifying mutant. No doubt, this was the effect of having first been killed outright by whatever busted through here, and THEN having the X inhabit it.
Still no definite clue as to what could have done this. Only that whatever it was had obviously worked fast and hard, and that it had not gone downstairs, apparently. The door to the stairs opened as one of them hit the release. Like all such places, the doors would close after them and anything not built for the opening and shutting of doors - or for the destruction of them - would not be able to. This led them to the stairwell and cut the zombies off. It was dark down here...
Zen scanned around, his red eyes casting a glow for a limited range. He then deployed a pair of lights from within his shoulders. He didn't need them, but others might. There could still be things in the darkness, and it could be pitch black down here, save for the occasional emergency light. Certainly, there were no bunker lights on right now. They might've taken damage or ran out of their emergency power. Now, between Amber and Zen's scans and information of this place, it seemed like the armory was one floor below, then storage, then engineering, then the drill mechanism. The floor they were currently on was reception security, with living quarters above, then command and their lookout equipment. As stated, the Armory would have a Recharge Station, but it wouldn't operate right now, leaving only stored equipment available. Storage would be...just about anything they would need here that wasn't weaponry. Living provisions, spare parts and equipment, etc. Engineering was, of course, their actual goal. How they wanted to proceed was up to them.
Zen reported no immediate threat on the stairwell. So, it's time for a command decision. Where to?
"The free-floating X are, at best, inconvenienced by our current weaponry, due to their higher resistance to attack. They are barely able to bring any harm to us, in turn, due to our protective fields. The problem of ammunition may be solved one of two ways: First, that an armory will carry either the stores to re-arm your weapon or entire new weapons to use instead. Or second, that power is restored to allow the use of a Recharge Station to instantly process new ammunition for all current weapons."
Indeed. Armories could contain power packs and energy cells of compatible with various weapons, or solid ammo containers for your various other weapons. More importantly, it was an armory, so it would probably have weapons and ammo available in accordance with whatever was stored here. And as for Recharge Stations, well... They were fully-functional synthesizers of ANY applicable ammo, regardless of the weapons. It scanned 'em, processed the materials, and supplied them to full, including spare ammo containers that you might have that were deplated. Isn't modern technology wonderful?
Speaking of decent tech, Amber's specimen gathering yielded some results. That is, the AI of her suit began to analyze the contents of her container for her and displayed what it found within the limits of a mobile scanner's abilities. To wit, it found that the rather disgusting material the Zombies were composed of was degraded organic compounds originating from human flesh. The cells had been either dead or dying, the human having been killed in some fashion, and this was what had been produced once the human body had begun taking on X. The 'melty' appearance and the zombie-like status was therefore due to a 'Garbage in, garbage out' effect. Already dead tissues forced into animation via regenerative properties will not become a human form. It will become some horrifying mutant. No doubt, this was the effect of having first been killed outright by whatever busted through here, and THEN having the X inhabit it.
Still no definite clue as to what could have done this. Only that whatever it was had obviously worked fast and hard, and that it had not gone downstairs, apparently. The door to the stairs opened as one of them hit the release. Like all such places, the doors would close after them and anything not built for the opening and shutting of doors - or for the destruction of them - would not be able to. This led them to the stairwell and cut the zombies off. It was dark down here...
Zen scanned around, his red eyes casting a glow for a limited range. He then deployed a pair of lights from within his shoulders. He didn't need them, but others might. There could still be things in the darkness, and it could be pitch black down here, save for the occasional emergency light. Certainly, there were no bunker lights on right now. They might've taken damage or ran out of their emergency power. Now, between Amber and Zen's scans and information of this place, it seemed like the armory was one floor below, then storage, then engineering, then the drill mechanism. The floor they were currently on was reception security, with living quarters above, then command and their lookout equipment. As stated, the Armory would have a Recharge Station, but it wouldn't operate right now, leaving only stored equipment available. Storage would be...just about anything they would need here that wasn't weaponry. Living provisions, spare parts and equipment, etc. Engineering was, of course, their actual goal. How they wanted to proceed was up to them.
Zen reported no immediate threat on the stairwell. So, it's time for a command decision. Where to?
Okay, keep moving.
Flight of the Morningstar
She could understand the king wanting to bring everything he could to bear at Garlock, or even just to spitefully shout at him for daring to undertake the task of replacing him. Heaven and hell knows, he deserved all he got. Garlock was a sinister creature, a beast of deviousness and plot crossed with a sheer destructive force and an anger towards lesser beings. Morningstar was certain that if it did not belong to the feline persuasion, he cared literally nothing for it. Of course, she had no way to tell that that was not technically true, but then...Star had never known his full background. Only Daryl did, and he was gone now. It was terrible, having to keep remind herself. It was one of the reasons why, when she got in Lucius' way and explained that he was her prisoner, she was somewhat subdued in her speech. She brightened up after seeing his reaction, though.
"Oh yes. For surviving one of my attacks, you've definitely earned the right."
Go on, Lucius. Try to imagine what fighting this girl in earnest is like. It'll take your mind off of immediate concerns, like how lucky you are to actually be alive. No, wait. That would actually focus you onto that. This girl's attack strength was as devastating as that mace, which clearly withstood a terminal velocity strike. Having grabbed the crownless king by his armor to pull him along, Star now spun her Morningstar alot like Thor from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and propelled them high into the sky, where she spread wings to fly along at a great speed.
No longer scouting at this time, Star would bring him back towards Dead Moon Cathedral directly. Lucius would get, of course, a HIGH view of the surrounding territory as they moved towards a structure that he knew damn-well hadn't been there before. Uhhh, she was coming in awfully fast. Umm, slow down? Slow down?! HEY, WHAT'RE YOU DOING?! Star had taken a dive straight towards the Cathedral, then allowed her wings to catch the wind about 300 feet up to glide down to the ground. She would land soon after with Lucius.
"Hellooo! Lord Volaris! Anyone else! I brought a prisoner! He's a bit thrashed, but he's still in one piece-ish!"
One piece-ish? So, who's about right now to hear Star calling out?
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King Garlock
The walk was sadly tedious for him. Garlock could not amuse himself while playing the wounded king of wherever the hell Lucius ruled. He had to keep acting like a man who's grimly set upon making his way home on foot, because he can't go wingy and fly off. He had to keep pretending that he was a king returning from a battle harsher than he'd ever imagined. At least he had time to contemplate how he was going to play this out. The cat magus did not know much about the lands at all. The less he actually said that could be checked on or countered, the better. At least...so long as he knew or did not know things. What he did not know filled an ocean. In fact, he didn't even know where the nearest ocean WAS. That could put a severe damper on things.
Still, it was not long before he came upon something most unexpected: A big wall. He would call it impressive, but it was useless against a race of flying people, unless their enemies had no such power or simply did not need to build a high wall because it had magic shields or something. For now, though, he could clearly see one thing that it DID have: Guards. Several such guards were on duty right now, and two of them with...let's call him captain, for now...flew directly to him. They were shocked by his condition, the condition which the real Lucius was currently in. Garlock idly wondered if Star was going to heal the real Lucius, since she had nothing to fear from his comparative lack of strength. He grunted as two soldiers now helped him along, the third one addressing him. He spoke in Lucius voice, speaking in a manner strained from pain and exertion, but still with the flames of life in it.
"We had them, dead to rights. It was almost over before it began. But there was someone among them, a stranger. Either he was a caster-turned-demon or he was always a demon. Either way, one-such beast stood in our midst, all of a sudden. With so few of them left, it must have been a last-ditch effort at defiance, bringing in an outsider. Perhaps he WAS a devil. He tore into us all, men torn limb from limb in a single swipe of its claws. However..."
And here, he put on the Lucius charm by smiling just a little, just a hint of his vicious self.
"...we still killed it."
He then went a bit grim, after that, though.
"We swarmed over the beast with many attacks, all of us determined to end it before it ended us. Every last one of them died to cause the creature wounds, and in the final moments, my captain threw herself in its path and bade me to deliver the killing blow, though she might die in the process. My sword struck true, but then as the demon expired, it exploded in some wrathful combustion, leaving me in this state. My sword is sadly missing, either thrown clear or destroyed. I did not find it."
And so, Garlock told a clever yarn with details mainly focused upon a foe that would test the fullness of Lucius' power, one which would account for his severe state. As he had done so, there was a feeling about him, a presence. It was...familiar. Had he waltzed himself into the scouting patrol area of one of the others? They would have to talk, provided of course some privacy or some line of communication could be established. Hmmm, no... Volaris had specifically demanded no magical communication. And even if he decided to break that rule himself, whoever was literally shadowing him now would not. So, 'till later, then...
Yup!
There's no need for me just yet. Let me know when you get to the stairs, and when @SimpleWriter posts.
He got the nod from Britta and took from it that she had a complete understanding of their responsibilities. Isaac was not seeing her as Corporal to Private, but Gunner to Gunner on this. It was important - nay, vital - to think in that way. Having no words, but silent acknowledgement, of where they stood gave him some comfort. But to move on now...Isaac could tell he was gonna like Jonnie. Once he realized that the two Lances were normal people and not like, say, Lieutenant Middleton, he calmed down and addressed them like a pair of new friends. Well, if they were all working together and they were all against ramrod-stupid military officers who didn't know what they were doing, they may as well BE friends. Isaac chuckled at the comment Jonnie made about how Sergeants expect you to behave.
"I never kissed any ass. The Sergeant knew that I didn't wanna be there, so he was never gonna get the time of day. So, we both agreed that if he'd just do his job, I'd do mine, and that seemed satisfy him."
There was more to it than that. The Sergeant in question didn't really want to create more ire than was needed. He wanted Isaac angry, not trying to actively tear into him. Getting his compliance by holding back was as effective as laying into someone with a real insubbordination problem. It got results. That's all that really mattered. The only thing that bothered him after that - and being drafted in the first place, of course - was that his Sergeant in basic started using him as an example to the other men, saying 'That man gets the idea. He wants to live! What's your excuse?'. So, rather ironically, Isaac ended up making his training group a little more disciplined and dedicated. Strange...
Anyway, with Jonnie offering to be an ammo man for him and Britta, Isaac gave him a thumb's up of approval, saying "I'll remember that.", just as several more of their charges came up to them with introductions. They were all young, weren't they? Nobody here was about 20 years of age, and that was actually quite shocking. Paloma was very energetic. Standing among them all like this, it made Isaac half-think it was like a more pleasant gathering at home or in town, even though that was not the case. Paloma seemed like your friendly-neighborhood helper and spreader of curious news, not the Shocktrooper that her insignia implied. Isaac hoped she was ready for this. He'd seem what the troopers had to do. More than likely, the cover fire was going to be needed for her own attacks, to make sure that she and her ilk remained alive.
Damn stupid war... The Imperials need a fucking hobby.
A hobby that wasn't war, that is. Isaac shook hands if they were offered from those who came up, and he said "Just Isaac will do, unless the Lieutenant moans about it.", before Jean mentioned that they didn't have to salute Lance-Corporals.
"They don't? Good. I don't feel like a superior officer, anyway. I'd rather have someone's trust. I think we'll all do fine if we stick together, watch each other's backs."
That was for the benefit of all, but also to help Jean with that sudden lack of confidence he seemed to be having and wanting to break away from. However, things suddenly took a sudden swerve in the 'HUH???' direction as Middleton spoke out, saying they had to get their gear and rears in motion, because they were moving out in fifteen minutes. What the hell happened? The war couldn't wait another two hours? Hmmm...guess not. So, what followed was everyone gathering and heading out for the site.
It was not pleasant, getting there.
Rain, grim silence, distant sounds of battle... It was too soon. He'd barely gotten to know these people, people whose lives he wanted to keep from being snuffed out, and that he would entrust to do the same. Here they were, stuffed into the trenches with people who stank like...who stank like... Well, we're gonna be honest here, this wasn't all that unusual to Isaac. He lived on a farm. There was rank animal smell there that outranked any general, especially if it was his turn to clean up after their stock. That much...wasn't as bothersome. However, Jean's line about combat virginity kind of felt wrong to him.
"Ah, don't call it that. We're all graduates of the School of Kicking the Arse of Other People. We've all tested well, gotten our grades, and today's our first day on the job."
He had his gun out, looking over the battlefield as he even managed a smile.
"Let's show them the spirit of the Class of 1914."
"I never kissed any ass. The Sergeant knew that I didn't wanna be there, so he was never gonna get the time of day. So, we both agreed that if he'd just do his job, I'd do mine, and that seemed satisfy him."
There was more to it than that. The Sergeant in question didn't really want to create more ire than was needed. He wanted Isaac angry, not trying to actively tear into him. Getting his compliance by holding back was as effective as laying into someone with a real insubbordination problem. It got results. That's all that really mattered. The only thing that bothered him after that - and being drafted in the first place, of course - was that his Sergeant in basic started using him as an example to the other men, saying 'That man gets the idea. He wants to live! What's your excuse?'. So, rather ironically, Isaac ended up making his training group a little more disciplined and dedicated. Strange...
Anyway, with Jonnie offering to be an ammo man for him and Britta, Isaac gave him a thumb's up of approval, saying "I'll remember that.", just as several more of their charges came up to them with introductions. They were all young, weren't they? Nobody here was about 20 years of age, and that was actually quite shocking. Paloma was very energetic. Standing among them all like this, it made Isaac half-think it was like a more pleasant gathering at home or in town, even though that was not the case. Paloma seemed like your friendly-neighborhood helper and spreader of curious news, not the Shocktrooper that her insignia implied. Isaac hoped she was ready for this. He'd seem what the troopers had to do. More than likely, the cover fire was going to be needed for her own attacks, to make sure that she and her ilk remained alive.
Damn stupid war... The Imperials need a fucking hobby.
A hobby that wasn't war, that is. Isaac shook hands if they were offered from those who came up, and he said "Just Isaac will do, unless the Lieutenant moans about it.", before Jean mentioned that they didn't have to salute Lance-Corporals.
"They don't? Good. I don't feel like a superior officer, anyway. I'd rather have someone's trust. I think we'll all do fine if we stick together, watch each other's backs."
That was for the benefit of all, but also to help Jean with that sudden lack of confidence he seemed to be having and wanting to break away from. However, things suddenly took a sudden swerve in the 'HUH???' direction as Middleton spoke out, saying they had to get their gear and rears in motion, because they were moving out in fifteen minutes. What the hell happened? The war couldn't wait another two hours? Hmmm...guess not. So, what followed was everyone gathering and heading out for the site.
It was not pleasant, getting there.
Rain, grim silence, distant sounds of battle... It was too soon. He'd barely gotten to know these people, people whose lives he wanted to keep from being snuffed out, and that he would entrust to do the same. Here they were, stuffed into the trenches with people who stank like...who stank like... Well, we're gonna be honest here, this wasn't all that unusual to Isaac. He lived on a farm. There was rank animal smell there that outranked any general, especially if it was his turn to clean up after their stock. That much...wasn't as bothersome. However, Jean's line about combat virginity kind of felt wrong to him.
"Ah, don't call it that. We're all graduates of the School of Kicking the Arse of Other People. We've all tested well, gotten our grades, and today's our first day on the job."
He had his gun out, looking over the battlefield as he even managed a smile.
"Let's show them the spirit of the Class of 1914."
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