Terminal

Ardacia

I am here.

As indicated elsewhere, stuff has come up that has precluded my guild activity. As of the first of September I will be returning.

If you still want to give my spot away for not making it back within five days though, I suppose I will not be in a position to complain.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

Hello everyone, just a quick announcement here. The penultimate labour will be starting on Thursday, September 1st.

Mostly for scheduling reasons but also because it is simply neater that way. Do not question it.

Ardacia

Theris Soneillon

King of the Region Caerulmoste

Caerulmoste
The City of Perierat
Auditor's Keep

"Announcing his royal eminence King Theris Soneillon, lord and master of Caerulmoste and highest power therein by right of merit." The herald spoke in Common for the convenience of those few visiting dignitaries present in the hall - if it could even be called such. The Royal Auditor's Keep, home to the Perierat Guild of Auditors, had been built within an old church to Eirtu that had been seized centuries prior when order at large had either failed or been unable to pay their taxes. The pews cleared away to make room for numerous long tables and desks. Makeshift renovations had taken place to add several walkways to the walls within the tall room, each supporting wooden shelves packed to the brim with scrolls and books. Near the rear, the old altar had been converted into a raised dais for a throne, though it seemed comically out of place - with auditors and calculators freely roaming up and down the chamber and forlorn, discarded scraps of paper littering the ground the church interior looked more like a trade-house than a court.

Despite the Herald's powerful voice cutting through the din of murmurs and rustling of parchment, few of the building's occupants bothered to so much as glance at their master as he entered. At a mere 21 years, Theris was the youngest ruling king in living memory, and even after three years of rule he remained largely an unknown figure in his own home. Dressed in simple robes bearing only modest silver lining and with only a badge pinned to his breast to signify his stature, he could easily have been mistaken for one of the younger clerks roaming the shelves above. His face was thin with a nervous cast to it, and the unkempt length of a beard still being grown did him no favors - a boy trying to change his appearance in order to be taken seriously, and failing.

Theris trudged across the center of the room, heading for the rear where the throne and the chief auditor's desk resided. Halfway there a calculator carrying a large stack of books nearly ran him down, giving him a nasty look as they veered out of the way just in time. Restraining the urge to apologize, Theris grit his teeth and kept walking. He was used to not being afforded much respect or attention from earlier in his life, but he still found it somewhat ludicrous that having been made King had done nothing for his personal image - unlike certain other individuals.

One such individual awaited him at the large desk at the end of the hall - more ornate than the others with carved details and paneling, it was positioned directly and awkwardly in front of the throne. Sitting there calmly reading through a sheath of papers was Sarapis Soneillon, Chief Auditor for Perierat and presiding over the Royal Keep. A stern if striking woman in her late twenties, with long black hair and an effortless countenance of authority that Theris envied deeply. Her accomplishments were lesser than his, in a purely technical sense - he had a Mathematical Theorem to his name, after all! He had been made King when he was barely eighteen! He had studied with the scholars of Laevo, delving into the secrets of the Astral Realm!

All Sarapis had ever done was manage the accounts of Perierat for a decade as Chief Auditor. Which, as far as everyone in House Soneillon was concerned, was all that mattered. Theris may have been King of all Caerulmoste, but within the paradoxically cramped confines of the massive keep interior Sarapis was a goddess. Within the jumbled and chaotic hierarchy of House Soneillon, she was well respected with far-reaching influence. There were rumors that said she had been offered the throne herself when Alchalchlea stepped down, but had declined because she thought it would be a waste of her time and effort.

"My liege." She greeted Theris as he approached her desk, turning her head look at him evenly - at least for a moment. Not but a moment later, she cast her eyes back down to the sheath of parchment on top of the desk to keep reading even as she spoke to him.

"Chief Auditor." Theris replied, his cheeks starting to burn from the absurdity of his position. Something about speaking with Sarapis specifically always unnerved him. "Please tell me you have good news."

"None." Sarapis replied flatly. "We have been scrounging everywhere we can. Somebody came up with the idea of taxing large gemstones coming in through the Iugulum Canal, but we are still paying in a deficit. We managed to revert a few of the land purchases via default clauses, but a few in particular - most notably the Ecefrod Account, amongst others - are watertight."

"Well, I was prepared to hear worse than that." Theris admitted as he pulled up a wooden stool to rest on. "I wrote to Mountebank and had him prepare several issues of confidence to the various estates. As of last week, fiscal irregularities caused by the Godfall have resulted in several forfeitures and illicit rescinditures regionally with the royal treasury owning all involved liquid assets. The estates will be told their account installments will all be paid in full by their final deadlines, but that several intervening installments may be missed during the interim period while the irregularities are being investigated. Any further questioning on their part will be redirected to the courts, and whoever has been the latest soul thrown to the mob will pick up the claim."

"Sufficient, up until we hit the deadlines. Where, pray tell, do you intend to come up with the bulk tender?" Sarapis finally looked up again from the sheath of papers, a faint frown on her face.

"By finding the source of our irregularities, hopefully." Theris grimaced. "As good a job as our agents have been doing, more direct investigations are going to be needed. Do you have anybody who will not be missed, or that can at least run faster than an arrow?"

Sarapis treated him with a brief and nasty smile. "A few. Be sure to send me the list of accounts to be investigated. I will have a word with the Questor's guildmaster and see if any of their more troublesome members can be put to appropriate mischief in the meantime. I would also like to bring up this, however." Sarapis idly reached into one of the desk's drawers and pulled out a letter - the broken seal marked by the crest of house Flitton.

"Our nervous friends at Laevo - whose anxiety shall heighten considerably once I have had words with them concerning this matter - apparently missed one of the aftereffects of the Godfall. A shard of Elonar apparently escaped Eirtu's grasp and fell onto the Isle of Bread."

Theris raised an eyebrow. "Was it large enough to survive entry?" Sarapis gave him a blank look, and he was once again reminded that he education as an Astronomer was something of a hindrance more oft than not. "I mean, was it big enough to survive impact?"

"There is no telling." Sarapis replied. "I have not even heard rumor of it, 'til recently. I might have not even read this letter, if one of my calculators estimated its potential worth as a jest. The author claims an intact shard might be worth a deed for a hundred leagues of land."

"Unlikely. Elonar's surface tectonics suggest little to no precious minerals of note on its surface - were none, in any case." Theris gestured errantly. "Any remnant would only really have value as religious paraphernalia."

"Actually..." Sarapis' eyes gleamed, and her smiled widened. "In proportion to mass, on the investor's market an intact shard is worth approximately..."

The Chief Auditor rattled off a long string of numbers. Those nearest to her desk looked up at the two in surprise. A passing clerk dropped the bundle of parchments they had been carrying, and then fell over a chair. A calculator who had been taking a small break to eat a sweet-roll choked.

"Per stone in weight?" Theris finally asked, eyes wide, mouth parted in shock.

"Per quarter-stone." Sarapis said, chuckling softly. "Of course, the estimate is based on a few letters of inquiry written to a few individuals of discerning interest. Value will diminish over time as interest wanes...but yes."

Theris was overwhelmed by a number of conflicting emotions. On one hand, seizure of even a small portion of the intact Godshard would go a long way to resolving the issue of debt with the estates the Soneillons had purchased land from - on the other, he felt humiliated. He had spent the better part of two weeks running around attempting to control the damage from the fiasco and contriving the scheme he had conveyed to Sarapis not moments before just to delay the consequences - and then, in the span of perhaps a few days, Sarapis had delivered a potential full-span solution with nearly zero effort on her part.

It just was not fair.

Regaining a small measure of his composure, Theris began to think a bit more carefully. "Have you determined the potential effects of the resulting deflation? in regional markets?"

"Yes. It is nothing I think you want to hear." Sarapis responded dryly. "In brief, acquisition of even a small chunk by one other house would make tracking the irregularities in relation to the gemstones difficult. With two or more houses...it would become nearly impossible."

"Right. Not to mention after paying our debt, they would come out markedly ahead. The plans for the bank would have to be put on hold indefinitely." Theris shook his head. "We need-"

"I have already sent word to Laevo, and the Questor Guildmaster has assembled our very best for the purpose." Sarapis cut Theris off. "Rest assured, the Questors will doubtlessly see to the matter with great efficacy."

"You should NOT have done so without consulting me first!" Theris snarled, abruptly slamming a hand down on Sarapis' desk. "This is a matter that could have the Church calling on me at the Island of Will! How dare you go behind my back like this!"

"It was either then and certain or now and...less certain." Sarapis finally replied after a moment of consideration. "The Astronomers will need time to prepare the necessary materials and transport them, not to mention the precautions they will have to take considering the risk to their artisan. The Questors need time to make arrangements, and though oarboats make quicker time than a mounted party it is...quite a long way to go from the mouth of the Expanse to the Isle of Bread."

"I know all of this better than you!" Theris vented. "You will be bearing the consequences for this should things turn sour...and we will be discussing this further at a later time. Do not leave the keep anytime in the next week." He rose gruffly from the stool he had been sitting on. "Now I need to go and begin my own preparations - since you did not see fit to so much as send a letter or courier to me before making such a bold decision. I will return later."

Theris Soneillon stormed out of the Keep. Sarapis' gaze flickered with uncertainty for a moment as she watched him go, before she simply shook her head and returned to reading through the sheath of papers before her.

Summary

Theris and Sarapis obliquely refer to a whole bunch of things that make absolutely no sense out of context and will only become apparent later on.

What a gyp!

Ardacia

Everything on my end of the line has been cleaned up. Going to spend the weekend working here.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

Perhaps there is more to that superstition about four meaning death than one might think.

TTL: The Tenth Labour

It is true, mighty Hercules did succeed in carrying away safely the cattle of Geryon - though in his hubris and fugue did he forget the true purpose of his task. In accosting these simple creatures, Hercules slaughtered noble Orthrus and upbraided Geryon for presuming to safeguard that which was rightfully theirs. Hercules blackened the hallowed land of Erytheia, tainting the earth with the blood of innocents and stealing away its prosperity.

Euripides

Where one bargains with the Rhino, only malice can thrive. In these darkened times without champions, all have learnt to fear the title...

Doombringer of Erytheia

Needless to say, nobody earned the Aphotic Desideratum challenge accolade. Nothing shall be added to the victory archives. No proclamations of triumph shall be announced. All Manner of Great and Terrible Things have been born anew to torment those who partake of the Final Hazard.

RomanAria's Reviews

How to Make them Equal

Wow. I love your story – the way you did this through a journal-ish style was a really unique take on it, and the way you executed it was fabulous. I could see the events unfolding in my mind’s eye, but it still retained a very personal flavor that such stories usually lack. Good work. The premise of it was fabulous, too – an excellent set-up with intrigue and unique cultures that we could feel, despite the relatively limited insight we were given. And in terms of your storyline it was a solid hit on the theme.

The reason I failed your entry, though I regretted needing to do it, was because there are many constructions and tenses that don’t fit together as well as they should. It seems like English isn’t your first language? In whatever case it is, the structure is so distracting in some places that I lose the full flavor of the story, and so I cannot pass this as it does not fulfill what I call my “basic level of good storytelling.” A work needs to be sufficiently error-free that I don’t get distracted by grammatical snaggles in my reading.

Solid effort, nonetheless. And, if you look at the verdicts on the rest of the entries, we did Make them Equal.

Forward

Okay, so. That moment when the identity of “it” clicked in my head (Which it didn’t until the very end) – my jaw dropped and I reread the story four more times. Well done with the premise. Very, very well done. There are several lines that at first made no sense, like “great wars waged across it” and then once I realized what “it” was… yeah. These ideas are very well done.

The overall execution, however… is slightly lacking. While I do appreciate what you tried to do with the formal language, much of it just left me scratching my head. “More sunrises more sunsets and again it saw upon that which it watched the growing of its ideals.” Erm… parsing error, can you please rephrase this sentence and the entire paragraph? A few more commas might be helpful…

The main reason I failed your entry was because you did not fulfill the challenge parameters. Time’s “everything” did not wind up destroyed. A being as infinite as Time would surely not be focused solely on the happenings of the little people of one little civilization on one little planet, for time is universal.

I also, after considering the number of sentences that I couldn’t quite decipher, decided that this entry did not quite live up to my personal “basic standard of quality storytelling.” Sometimes a more natural tone and word choice can express an idea much more eloquently than a formal tone with needlessly-obsolete phrases.

Do not be discouraged by your failure, my friend. Keep marching forward.

Kurt Fortitude

Good work, Platinum, as ever. Beautiful characterization, lovely writing. Two critiques as far as form goes: One, the single awkward grammar bit that jumped out at me for no apparent reason: “'Don't turn your head. You'll blind yourself.' Nuvac told on the floor, his eyes closed.” I don’t know why but it jumped out at me and rather soured my mood as I was reading. Secondly, your habit of structuring the majority of paragraphs as dialogue, action, paragraph break, dialogue, action, got just a bit repetitive. But that’s just me being nitpicky – in terms of form, a solid entry.

The reason I failed your entry was because of a technicality in the way I interpreted the prompt – Must have everything destroyed by someone who fights because of them. I interpreted this line to mean that it must be an ally. Someone who’s inspired by the ideas and motivations of the protagonist, who fights for their cause. Since it was the enemies who destroyed everything, your entry did not fulfill the challenge requirements.

Do not despair at the failure. Face the last two labours and the final hazard with fortitude.

Going Home

Beautiful work as always, Holmishire. We can always count on you for quality entries – there is nothing that I can think to say about the structure or form of this entry. Just… *gush* sooo preeetty.

The reason I failed your entry was because I didn’t see how it fulfilled all of the challenge parameters – At least how I interpreted it, everything your character loved had to be completely, physically destroyed. Ariana’s home was not – though improbable, she could have found another ship. Also, she did still have her four comrades, whom she loved or at the least cared about.

I’m sorry, dear, that we had to end your undefeated streak this time. But it was inevitable. I hope you’ll stick around for the next labours – don’t pack your bags to go home just yet.

Terminal's Reviews

How to Make Them All Equal

I will say that everything else aside, this was my favorite submission this time around.

The story is nearly precisely what the the challenge criteria was asked for, but remained interesting and engaging despite the straightforward approach. The eventual merger of Rhom and Mayazetec into Euleria is an excellent creative twist on the core concept of the Labour Criteria and under nominal circumstances would amount to a firm victory.

Unfortunately, while reading through this story the first thing that was always at the forefront of my mind was just how many mistakes there were. Upon reexamination, I do not believe there is a single paragraph that is devoid of at least one significant error of either tense or grammar save perhaps the very first and the very last. There was no singular criminal error that ruined the piece, but rather a legion of small mistakes.

My advice in this regard is to take the time to read through your own entry upon completion - most of these errors are minor but are all nearly immediately evident and would likely have been caught in a cursory skim. If you are already in the habit of rereading what you write, you may want to find another person to read your material in order to provide a second opinion of sorts.

Forward

My biggest problem with this entry is that your chosen character - Time - lacks any of the sort of necessary characterization that would allow for it to really meet the challenge criteria. You were clearly aiming to illustrate Time as a vast cosmic aspect, but its preponderance is rather unhelpfully vague and tautologically meaningful. The reader is never given significant reason to care about Time or the revelation that mortals are stealing and/or otherwise manipulating it. If anything, Time comes across as a particularly dim-witted child attempting and failing to sound profound and the story gains nearly nothing from having been staged from its viewpoint - which is bad when that basically is the entire story.

As for the story itself, it suffers from structural awkwardness - several misused or otherwise absent commas, conjunctions, and transitions. Moreover, the narrative itself is very stiff and stilted.

It wasn't even sure how the things it watched knew what it was called, how it worked, but amusement filled it still (far too much ambiguity, be more precise and find other pronouns to use). What felt even more and to some even less, the monuments went up in houses and town-squares (this sentence makes no sense whatsoever, even in-context, adding nothing to the story. Call it a parsing error). On the things it watched and the things it lead (More ambiguity. Subtlety is, as indicative, subtle and therefore best used in small doses - spell things out a bit more clearly rather than being pointlessly obtuse).. Still some loved it and others cursed it. It was constant and always in the back ground even when its little creatures didn't notice it.

Second Paragraph

While I can see what you were going for in terms of the challenge criteria, the one thing you did a pretty good job of explaining was that ultimately the passage of Humanity was of little to no consequence to Time - it felt only brief and vague amusement followed by sorrow, and their absence did not truly affect it in the requested manner.

Kurt Fortitude

I will say that I found myself wanting to pass this entry. It does not precisely meet the challenge criteria, but I nonetheless felt that your written ending had adhered to the spirit of the challenge. Ultimately the reason I decided to fail Kurt Fortitude was because it would hardly be fair, given my by now firmly established precedent of failing entries for not adhering precisely to the challenge criteria.

In case you were wondering, the exact flub is that Kurt's enemy destroyed everything, which runs contrary to the parameters of the challenge. The idea was that a character who was an object of Want would inspire others, nominal allies (though not necessarily) to destroy everything. The problem with your specific ending is that your villain already had ample incentive to destroy Earth without having to be inspired to do so by Kurt. Kurt was the causal factor, but was not a source of inspiration or idolatry for Nuvac - if that makes any sense.

In terms of formulation you continue to improve. Very few typos and much less of the awkward grammar I have almost come to expect of your submissions - the biggest problem here is probably the way you structured the narrative, which comes across as rather stiff and awkward. This is less obvious in the calmer segments, especially the beginning, but becomes especially distracting during the action scenes.

'You mean... like this?' Kurt asked, as the pod shot electricity through the control panel. Nuvac's grunt was audible, and it told Kurt to jump out of the way before Nuvac shot through his head because his voice had given off his location (This segue is unnecessarily long, containing superfluous information and providing an explanation in the middle of the fight that distracts from it more than assists it). That's when all the lights went out. The window turned black, preventing the light of space to come in as well (very awkward spacing and transitions, could have been conceivably shortened or lengthened considerably and made neater).

Kurt and Nuvac's Showdown

'… KAH!' Kurt forced himself up on his left leg, a hand going to cover his left side, which had been shot (You could have just said his injured left side. Would have been shorter and neater). His body quivered from the pain and his eyes kept themselves half-closed (describing the eyes as though they were controlling entities separate from Kurt clashes with the narrative perspective of the first half of the sentence, 'he could barely keep his eyes open' would have been a better choice). Though, he still could smile, for he held a gun in his left hand directed down at his defeated opponent. '… There. I won.' He proclaimed.

'… GNF!' Nuvac made a noise as his leg detached, as Ruwdan injured limbs do, assuming they hadn't died (This information is extremely interesting and relevant. Sure would have been nice to know earlier, preferably somewhere it would not have broken up the activity of an already busy scene). Nuvac glared up at him, infuriated. 'And what, exactly, did you hope to accomplish with this victory?' He asked, a searing anger in his voice. … That was the most emotion Kurt had ever seen in Nuvac. Suppose being shot through the leg would do that to you (breaks away from the narrative tone of the rest of the paragraph without a proper transition.

Kurt and Nuvac's Showdown

In previous Labours, you have been advised a few times to experiment more with how you arrange your action scenes and overall narrative structure - and it is rather obvious that you were experimenting here, so I can hardly fault you for the rather haphazard arrangement here. That said, this particular approach is actually a step back rather than forward - I encouraged you to try and describe things a little more thoroughly in action scenes and to be more descriptive, and you certainly did that here. The problem is that you made poor choices of what to describe, and what was described was presented in a needlessly drawn-out and awkward fashion. My advice to you this time is to continue experimenting and to focus on brevity - wring as much detail as possible out of the shortest sequence of words you can find. Omit needless words.

On a more personal note, I think I get what Han Solo meant now. Having someone always going on about the odds of any given outcome is really annoying.

Going Home

I understand that you were operating under rather severe time restrictions. That said, understand that you have produced much greater in much less time - and it is also known that the problem was one of inspiration rather than any actual external pressure applied by real life. So all I have to say is: You have nobody to blame but yourself.

The one real problem with this entry was that Ariana was not really the sort of character that was requested. You explained who she is and why she could possibly be the sort of character I was looking for, but you failed to demonstrate the prerequisite qualities in her character for that purpose. I know she is the bastard daughter of the Queen, liked by her men, a conquistadora, and basically nothing else. She is largely two-dimensional and not a character I would normally expect to see in one of your works.

Without any established principles or ideals, without really inspiring much of anything, it cannot really be said that Ariana was the causal factor of her friend blowing the carrack out of the water. That is something they might have reasonably been expected to do anyway even if she had been befriended by anybody else - proven because Ariana is nobody of any true comport as far as the story goes, at least.

I have said it before: Brevity is the soul of wit, but a story is always precisely as long as it needs to be in order to tell the tale it needed to. This story is not what was asked for.

The good news is: I have it on good authority there is much more oxygen at the base of the mountain, even though everyone else is there.

An Alternate Version of this Post

So Hercules, he went up to Orthrus to beat him to stupid death but then Orthrus went yo Heracles, this is a stealth mission jackass and Huhruhclease went oh and then he died the end.

Euripides

Nobody completed this task.

Whoopee.

No victory archive, no news and discussion posts, no challenge accolades.

Ardacia

No writers block. As may have been indicated by my absence for the last eight days, stuff has happened that precluded reliable online activity on my part. Situation will be nominal in another day or so; expect my post sometime this week. Possibly as early as Thursday.

TTL: The Tenth Labour

Here are the submissions I received. As a general reminder, I have only included forum names if given permission by the author to do so - otherwise, these stories remain anonymous. Feel free to post reviews for these stories in the general conversation thread. Try to provide some helpful critiques and suggestions, and mention anything you liked.

Winners will be declared on July 14th, and any applicable Challenge Accolades will also be awarded then. All winning entries will be saved in the Twelve Labours Archive with a permanent link in my signature, as well as mentioned in a report in the News section and General Discussion subforums. Once again, thanks to @mdk and the rest of the RPGC crew for helping to schedule The Twelve Labours. Another special thanks to @mahz for cranking out the awesome trophy and titles system.

Once the results come around, if you did not win but feel you should have? Make an appeal to the judges who reviewed your entry. Keep it classy, and exercise some courtesy while making your case, and they might just reevaluate your entry. Please keep in mind, you only get the one appeal. Sometimes you just have to let it go.

If you submitted an entry before the deadline, and did not break any of the rules or conditions of the contest, then there is no reason it should not be here - so if it is not, inform me immediately, either in the Discussion Thread or else via PM.

The Stories:

How to Make Them Equal

By @Habibi359.

19th day of the Fifth moon, 325 ML
Today I was elected to lead this country into new age. Forty-second head of the Council in the history of Rhom. I feel satisfied and proud, yet humbled.

Mars has people from worse origins than me, son of a miner and a nurse. They all gave their votes for my leadership to get welfare for the small. Similarly I have the votes of those working in unfair conditions. Rest of my votes are sympathizers, educated people and the religious class. I look around and see the problems they all want me to tackle upon. How the rich mock the poor, prejudices plague the people of New Khan Republic and Mayazetec origin and the inequalities rise between workers and managers. While I have worked hard fighting for distributed wealth and welfare, and successfully pulled through the tax increase to ensure free, mandatory education greatly influenced with my ideals of equality, cooperation and trust... There is still much to be done.

The Rhomean people have faith in me. They expect me to do more now than when I was a minister, when they expected more from me from the time when I merely had a seat in the Council. And I know I can do much in my time. The Mars is stable at the moment. Even our old enemy, Mayazetec, hasn't threatened us in a decade. Everything is in place for great changes. I expect that in next five years, with the power bestowed upon me by people, I can shorten the gap between working class and the management, build diplomatic relationships for long term peace with Mayazetec and promote welfare to the Rhom.

But before I start working on future policy with the Council and Ministry and the diplomatic relationships with our neighboring countries (Odinthen and Republic of new Khan have welcomed my leadership warmly, Mayazetecian Empire has merely send their formal congratulations), I must give the speeches for my people and then celebrate among my people. For a whole week the gears of Rhom Council shall stay on hold. But let them rest before great changes begin.

13th day of the Second moon, 328 ML
Two years on Mars, and the society, economy and the welfare of Rhom is starting to rise. Today marked an important day in the Rhom's history. The Eulerian Agreement, a trade pact between Rhom and Mayazetec, was written and signed by my hand and the High Table. From all the acts that we have done, that I have a succeeded in, this is the most spectacular and will definitely be remembered for century to come.

With the new pact, first time in two century our two countries have significantly more freedom to move from one country to another. There shall not be discrimination or preference between workers of our two countries. The pact also secures trading lines moving between two countries with little bureaucracy. And the cooperation between high sciences shall further help develop our and their country to new heights.

The people have celebrated my successes three times in my time as a Head of Council. First with the Remulan payment act, when I dropped down the payment difference between workers, higher class and the entrepreneurs, eased the bureaucracy and opened new workplaces. Then with the Socratus dictate which put more effort and money towards social services. Unemployment has dropped down to four percent and those unable to employ, who once were called social leeches, now have places to stay, treatment for their troubles and more possibilities to climb back into worker's life.

And third time with the Hercus package to satisfy last remnants of the nation's pride towards greatness. With extra funding, our military is now more operative than ever and people feel safe from the Mayazetecian empire. Though the purpose of my education plan and this trading pact is to never be at war... By Jupiter, let there never be day to unleash our Cerberus-class ships. But because it did take Mayazetecs off guard, I was able to give the Council an opportunity for long-term peace with new cooperative methods to assure every unwillingness towards war. And they took it.

With the Eulerian agreement, we enter more stable times. Rhom celebrates me once more.

The Social science research and polls have both agreed that my equality and trust -based education is finally bearing fruit. Racism towards the minority groups has dropped. Corporate leaders pay well and in turn the workers have stopped most of their strikes. Working conditions are better. One can start their own business here with less effort and no fear of oppression from bigger corporate. Power is with the people now, as it should be.

Since half year ago I managed to pull through the Brutuan act, and now Head of the Council's responsibilities and power has been mostly distributed to the Ministry and the Council. I, at least in theory, wont't have much power over decisions. However people of Rhom have seen what my ideals of equality, trust, welfare and peace have done to the country. The Council is heavily affected by my words even after the Brutuan act. And their decisions are affected by my teachings.

The country has started the new age of cooperation. I am proud of Rhomean people, even more so now after the Eulerian agreement being passed. I will gladly celebrate with them tomorrow.

25th day of the Eighth moon, 330 ML

It feels like an eternity since I made the dreamlike proposal to the Ministry; Eulerian agreement. Like a dream is the moment when the Council voted, and the result, ninety three percent agreeing on it. The people of Mayazetec travel to the Rhom, and Rhomean people travel to Mayazetec. Work has been guaranteed on both sides. And the two people start slowly building trust between one another.

I remember still, two years ago, how on the national hologram I encouraged the two nations to work together. To see how wounds from war two hundred years ago shall heal themselves. Work with them like on the Earth people used to work together to save their atmosphere. And now it is time for us two civilizations to save ourselves. This is the time of trust. Like my people trust me, so must I trust my people and trust our new trading partner.

I shall meet the representatives of Mayazetecian High Table tomorrow along with Ministry. We shall discuss the upcoming years of cooperation. The Council has laid down initial plans on releasing even more places for Mayazetecian people to work in. They are eager to try out roles in media, assistants of Council and Ministry members and build industry in our country. More work for Rhomean. I gave a speech on how something like this would have been impossible twenty years past and how we made this possible; Council gave a standing ovation and the media once again reprised my accomplishments in my time in Council.

The representative from Odinthen asked me if it was wise to further deepen our pact between Mayazetec and Rhom. I stated that it wouldn't be wise to stop now; our two countries have never been this close together. We have made war between ourselves practically impossible. One cannot shelter themselves inside borders; it is time for cooperation and trust. I have taught my people this. And I'm glad to see how they are now building the bridges between our two nations themselves.

18th day of the seventh moon, 331 ML
The two nations could as well be one. Mayazetecian people still have some uncivilized habits compared to our well-educated nation: Class policy is still in effect and their pride to their nation, it's history and so-called superiority... Is remarkable. Nevertheless I do think they will adjust here in few years, like our people have to this cooperation. They estimate that every ninth man in Rhom is now Mayazetec. The representation of Rhomean people are similarly noticeable on their side.

Despite the minor concerns written every now and then in the Great Virtual about increasing influence of Mayazetec in our society, the public has taken our old enemies well. The great meeting year ago made an impression to the Rhomean people. The image of Great leaders of Mayazetec and Rhom discussing in same table was impactful. And commoners themselves are starting to see two civilizations as people, not as members of opposing nation. They have accepted and forgiven the old wars just as I have. We truly live in the new era.

Tomorrow we shall write out the Phyrrician non-attack agreement. It is ironic how this is being presented now, after all these years within Eulerian agreement, but for Mayazetec to confirm such an agreement is highest honor what they have to give to our country. It comes two hundred years too late, but Rhom people shall never again be afraid of Mayazetec. Our people have never felt safer. There are no celebrations, but they once again have released hours of programs on the main holo-channels about my efforts on building equality within this country and my part in building relationship with Mayazetec. I dare to feel pride of my accomplishments.

5th day of the second moon, 332 ML
I watched the news despite the ministers and advisers telling me already. The Mayazetec and Rhom cooperation has evolved. It is something I never anticipated, but such is the Council's and the people's will to deepen the relationship and build trust to our neighbor. The Phyrrician non-attack agreement already was a success. It could have stayed there.

The militaries have made cooperation pact with the Mayazeteck. I had to witness this live in holodrive, the signing of Bacars-pact. Their military shall be introduced to Rhomean defense equipment and vice versa. The military personnel can apply to either country for work and position. How our two militaries shall be basically one. This will further deepen the bonds of Mayazeteck and Rhom, but our former allies are looking at us warily. I too wouldn't have yet taken this step.

Once again I gave a speech. While I congratulated the council on building relationships and opening new possibilities for the future, I gave my questions on the need of such an act. There will be several military trainings together on following years. But if there are no enemies, what for are we preparing for?

Media only showed supporting first part of my speech. Mayazetecian and Rhomean people both celebrate me for the new step on our deepening cooperation. While I am not responsible for this newest pact, I shall participate willingly. While I wouldn't have voted for this, it is once again a decision made by Rhom in sake of cooperation.

4th day of the fifth moon, 333 ML

First the military and now our education system is also moving on. The Council has accepted the Kinichurnus-policy, where our schools teach about the history, culture, and thoughts of Mayazetec. As they presented me the education plans, I already saw it. Our two people are coming one. The Mayazetec education program takes a similar leap showing our culture, but not to the length like ours.

They voted me once again as a Head of the Council a moon ago. But little does the title matter any longer. The decisions are made by Council and the Ministry, who still live in thoughts of cooperation, trust and welfare. This next speech of mine I am about to give them... About deepening pacts, evolution of our education system, working closer together, building trust and equality. Are these really the words I would say to this, even years ago?

But no matter what I tell to Council, there are Mayazetecian people in media, interpreting and cutting and showing my speeches favorably. The news show how the equality and trust program, welfare that started from Eulerian Agreement, go on and will evolve. The news will just show how I am hopeful of our future and have great expectations from the changes in education, possibilities of next generation...

They will never know how we once hated one another. I should be glad for this. Why I then feel discomfort? And do I want to participate in the celebration they are once again preparing in my honor?

18th day of the first moon, 335 ML
There has not been discrimination and no preferences anywhere on Rhom's side. Even in military.
The Cerberus-class ships have Mayazetec personnel within, three of them are commanded. Council has a noticeable presence of Mayazetecian people. Even Ministry has one seat. Meanwhile Rhomean people have minor appearance in Mayazetec military and places of power. Majority in there act only as a work force. No power to change them. No power to influence.

I am witnessing how, one pact after another, they have taken a hold from Rhom. Bitten into our Council, into our society, even to our very military. While in Mayazetec the Rhomean presence is in the workforce. I am witnessing the Mayazetecian culture replacing the Rhom one piece at the time. Celebration of two countries, everyone working towards welfare and greatness. Glorification of two militaries. Sensoring disloyal speeches. Information and forums in Great Virtual are being moderated. And our people are accepting this, gladly even. It is still in the name of Eulerian Agreement. The great equality and cooperation. Building trust between our two countries. Two countries becoming allies, becoming one. All credited to me for my years of effort towards equality, trust, welfare, cooperation and peace.

If I had known where this country is heading towards, I would have kept the power of Head of the Council intact. My speeches of warning go to deaf ears. This country moves closer and closer to Mayazetec. They however don't come any closer to us.

12th day of the second moon, 337 ML
Today marked the day when the two countries make preparations to unite. The great Kingdom of Euleria, in honor of the trade pack made nine years ago. But it is just a great Kingdom of Mayazetec, given better name for Rhomeans to swallow. The education system is heavily influenced by Mayazetec class-hierarchy. Nationality, glorification of Mayazetecian history, blasphemy of Rhomeans starting the wars... And as they hold military, media and the education, they practically hold the new Kingdom of Euleria. A Common class policy isn't yet imposed, but that's because majority of Rhomean still remember the equality of my teachings despite it being removed from education program. Small comfort of mine.

The other neighboring countries prepared their warships four moons ago and because of these actions the Rhomean Council has been broken in the name of Martial Law. High Table has taken the lead during these unsure times "as a faster decision maker". I am left watching whether the Kingdom of Eulerian shall enter the war sooner or shall they wait and keep hold of Martial Law until last shred of Rhomean culture is ripped away. Until the country I loved and led is no more.

I have taken asylum in Republic of New Khan. High Table tell Rhomeans that I have been taken as hostage during my diplomatic meeting. They gladly have me out of their way and yet use me as a tool to hold power. For Republic of New Khan, I can only give advice and what little power and connections I have left for the Parliament. And then witness how New Khan and it's allies will eventually make their assault on Eulerian Kingdom. I will see them fight until they surrender. It is my work afterwards to rebuild, build diplomatic relationships and lead my people afterwards. I will cut out the Mayazetecian influence myself.

2nd day of the fourth moon, 339 ML

I now witness the ruins of Eulerian Kingdom. They never surrendered; they took women and men, everyone they could, to fight. Those who didn't... We had no choice but to shoot down Cerberus -class ships on the civilian populated areas they used as as shield against the agreement. The rural areas were vaporized with napalmite. The ground is unusable for many years. Nothing but a mark of great equality given to Eulerian soldiers by New Khan riders. Eulerian fought until the bitter end, every single one of them for their great kingdom. There is nothing for me to rebuild from, nor nothing to build on.

The Eulerian Kingdom is no longer, nor does the Rhom nor Mayazetec exist. Border are rewritten and old area is shared between it's neighbors; old Rhom is divided by Odinthen and Republic of New Khan. War prisoners and survivors start there from scratch with Thor-troopers and Khan cavalry keeping them under control in their respective areas. And eventually the population of Odinthen and New Khan will take over.

In fourteen years I have seen Rhom rise and fall, with me being the last Head of the Council. There is no more Council, nor people to select it into power. Nor people to guide. I have been offered a place in the Khan Parliament as an expert of foreign relationships. While I am glad for trust still given upon me, I have no desire to any longer help those who have destroyed the Rhomean civilization.

No... I will retire, shelter in my manor and see what will be build upon the ashes of old Rhom. I am tired. Very tired. And I regret it all ended like it did.

Forward

It has always been there. Watching from afar, hated by those who understood it and loved by those who couldn't fully grasp it's meaning. What felt like ages ago, the people ignored it. Pushed it aside and continued walking forward, praising it without knowing it. Others cursed it without knowing it as well. It was okay with this, it was something no one could understand, not yet anyway.

Sunrise to sunset, and suddenly it blinked, monuments had been erected in its name. Some so tiny and others larger than houses and towns. It could not help but be amused at this and still it felt the stirring in the hearts of what it watched. More sunrises more sunsets and again it saw upon that which it watched the growing of its ideals. It wasn't even sure how the things it watched knew what it was called, how it worked, but amusement filled it still. What felt even more and to some even less, the monuments went up in houses and town-squares. On the things it watched and the things it lead. Still some loved it and others cursed it. It was constant and always in the back ground even when its little creatures didn't notice it.

Sighing in content and enjoying the way it was worshiped it showed the little things it watched more of its intricacies and the things it watched made pictures that moved of it. Great battles, all faked, but great all the same, waged across it and it chuckled and still it moved forward.

It wasn't amused anymore, it was saddened. The little things it watched for what felt like ages but maybe was moments learned of its true nature. How to bend it and steal from it and stop it. It was worried and beckoned to its' little things to always move forward. It pointed out the old monuments in its name, even the ones in every home and every town square, upon their little devices they always looked at. Even on some of their wrists. An echo of what it once was. It was saddened, and worried.

It was in pain, if it had a heart it would be in shreds for it had watched the little things tear into other little things. What was once a great civilization in its name, was no more. It would mourn, but it would move forward always. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.... Tock...

Kurt Fortitude

By @PlatinumSkink.

'QRT42!' A voice echoed through the ruined streets. The many collapsed buildings or structures with giant holes in them told a telling tale of how a previous invasion had come to pass. In the middle of the street a giant floating tank, shining green on the sides with four large pipes pointing cannons forward at a specific building. … The person in the building quickly withdrew the mirror he was using to look outside over his shoulder so he didn't have to stare straight into the cannons of the floating alien tank for way too long, it wasn't good for confidence.

'We know you're there! Stand up! We're giving you a chance to surrender peacefully!' … How graceful of them. He sat dressed in a brown coat with two ray-guns suited in holsters to his left and right. A hood was draped over his short dirty-blond hair, a shadow covering his calm eyes and sneaky little smile. “QRT42”, huh. That had been his designation on Qeetu, where he had been born under occupation and denied his own name.

He stared forward at where his little hacked-node sat on top of a laptop belonging to an official of the Ruwdan Empire like an electric gooey parasite, currently downloading the schematics of the two huge space-cruisers which were in orbit around Earth, occupying the planet. He had stolen it from the angry people outside, and then planted that little invaluable item he had brought here from Qeetu onto it to obtain its content, but they had pursued him here. He just needed a little bit more time. If he didn't show himself, then maybe they'd shoot before the download was complete. Couldn't have that.

'You know, I go by Kurt Fortitude nowadays. Rolls better off the tongue.' Kurt said, standing up and grinning out the window towards the tank. 'Hey, General Nuvac. Long time no see. Granted, I can't see you right now, either, but...' He stood on the fourth floor of the building, seeing multiple Ruwdan grunts directing their guns up at him along with the tank. … Kurt gave himself a 2-1 that he'd be able to hold them off.

As if in response to his quip, a huge screen lit up and showed the face of General Nuvac. … As any Ruwdan, his head looked like a fish facing upwards. Eyes on the side barely able to look forward, mouth facing upwards and all in all pretty strange silver scales. No fins, though. This particular specimen was the one that had been in charge of Qeetu when Kurt started his rebellion. They'd faced off rather often, and now Nuvac had personally decided to hunt him down. What an honour.

'Accept defeat. You lost your chance when we crushed your resistance on your home-world. Fleeing to Earth has only brought pain to its peaceful inhabitants. Surrender now, and we can prevent further suffering to this unrelated third party.' Nuvac told him, his voice calm and dark for such a silly appearance. Of course, Nuvac wasn't actually there, he was transmitting his image from the space-craft in orbit he was stationed on.

'Or you could, like, not chase me.' Kurt suggested, making a suggesting hand-gesture.

'Absurd. You are a galaxy-class criminal, a rebel against the might of the Ruwban Empire. You will be made an example of for your mistake of fighting us.' Nuvac declared, his face and voice seemingly incapable of making an emotion as he spoke. … Which was a trait of his, and not of the race, Kurt had seen plenty of emotional Ruwbans.

'Well. You're the invaders, so I didn't really consider myself either a rebel nor a criminal, really. Just defending my home. A few years late since you were already occupying the place, sure, but.' Kurt defended himself, and smiled a bit at Nuvac's motionless portrait that one could be surprised to learn it was a direct live-feed of his current face.

'Irrelevant. Cease talking and jump down with your hands behind your head.' Nuvac declared, and there was the distinct clank of the Ruwban tank preparing a shot.

'…' Kurt slowly brought his hands behind his head, causing his hood to fall back while he stared down at the scene. … Even years after his augmentation had taken place, he still winced when told to jump down a building or something similar, but Nuvac knew very well that Kurt really didn't need to use the stairs. How bothersome. Hm, he could count seven grunts, and one tank. That's all?

'I'll give myself a 5-2.' Kurt said out loud.

'5... 2?' Nuvac questioned.

'Yeah. Five to two. Means out of seven times this scenario plays out, I'd win five and you'd win two.' Kurt explained, calmly.

'Preposterous. You do not have the firepower to resist us.' Nuvac mocked him.

'Ah, but, you know...' Kurt smiled at the screen on the tank. 'As an augmented person, I don't really have a limit on the amount of firepower I can bring with me.'

With that, Kurt casually kicked the wall under the window. It detached, a whole half of the wall falling down into the streets. This revealed a whole front-mounted ray-cannon lying across the floor or the room behind him, and it was facing towards the tank. It was the same cannon that had been attached to the Ruwban battle-ship that Kurt had crash-landed on Earth with when he first fled here. Kurt had dragged it there, and then known to lure the tank down that street to prepare this.

'Shit.' Nuvac cursed as Kurt placed his foot on the big, red button placed on top of the cannon, and a giant red blast of energy shot through the street and crashed through the floating tank and the screen, obliterating anything within it and causing it to drop motionless into the asphalt. All that was left were the brutally stunned remaining seven grunts. Kurt drew his twin ray-guns with his hands, smiling down.

'Alright. Let's get to work.'

__________________

He sat in an old wooden chair, staring at a TV-screen. The walls were grey and low at the ceiling, cracks spread around looking like the place was going to come down any second. Old shelves stood ready to support the belongings of the man, and a small separate kitchen existed in a separate room. One room and a kitchen, supported by a meagre amount of electricity. The small analogue TV-screen showed the image of a built man in his thirties, with short dirty-blonde hair and a surprisingly mellow look in his eyes and a rather charming smile for someone who apparently led a force which slaughtered civilians and military alike in his quest for conquest. That is, himself.

'We do not wish to harm your people.' General Nuvac of the Ruwdan invasion force spoke through the speakers. 'We wish to claim the hated leader of the vile uprising on our planet. His designation is “QRT42”, but he calls himself “Kurt Fortitude” among his own kind. If you see him, contact the nearest Ruwdan base immediately and free your entire species. This has been your daily reminder from the Ruwdan Empire.' … The TV turned off. He didn't have any influence on if it was on or not. Only the broadcasters could control that.

Today, Kurt felt lazy. He just wanted to sit back and take it easy. When that image had been taken, Kurt had felt like he was on top of the world. But now, he just wanted to lie back and let laziness take over. It wasn't that easy, huh? You don't try to overthrow the Ruwdan Empire without consequences. Back on his home planet, Qeetu, they had also been under their command. The excuse that time was “infringing on claimed Empire space”. Yeah, space that their planet just happened to naturally exist in happened to be claimed by the Empire, so naturally, they had to be occupied.

He'd been so young and ambitious. Strike back the Empire and reclaim their planet. Yeah, that'd been so simple. … General Nuvac had beaten them back, and Kurt had been made to flee by his allies. He had, eventually, landed on this blue rock known as Earth, where he was supposed to live in peace, or something. He wasn't sure. … But apparently, the Empire had followed him here.

Right now, however, the Earth was under Ruwdan occupation, just as Qeetu had been. The battle between Earth and Ruwdan had been fierce, but Earth couldn't handle their alien technology. Many humans had died, and that was because Kurt had landed here. Right. He couldn't stay here.

Kurt stood up. He grabbed his brown cloak with hood and threw it around him. He took a number of Ruwdan ray-guns and stuffed them in his pockets, along with one blast-bomb, one smoke-bomb, his trusty hacker-node and a map pointing to this base. Incriminating if he was found, yes... but his face was already pretty incriminating. He had a destination today. He was heading for the prison camp, for Earth soldiers that resisted.

He walked out into the night. Fortunately for him, cloaks with hoods was a staple in this society, he didn't stand out. The buildings were worn from damages of battle and quite a few were ruins, few people walked the streets though those who did mostly wore cloaks like his. A seeker droid flying with propellers flew overhead, gazing down on the occupied species. The seeker droids were like half a helicopter, but they were without pilots and with multiple cameras, advanced AI and ray-guns of their own. How serious they were, feeling that they needed to watch them every waking second.

Soon enough, Kurt reached a wall. It was the wall to the prison camp. There were numerous guards around. Very tall guards, humanoid mostly except for their long necks which ended in something alike to fish-heads, with eyes looking in either side for almost 360 degrees of vision. … It was fortunate that Earth humans and Qeetu humans were rather alike. Gave them more of a sense of companionship, compared to these Ruwdan aliens. The walls had lights to compensate for the Ruwdans' poor night-vision. Around each guard was a blue shimmering shield, protecting against harm.

Kurt jumped. A motion that he knew would be seen, as he jumped straight through the light. However, this occasion was so rare that the guards hesitated at believing what they had seen.

'What the...' An alien questioned, but he was already way too late. Kurt's jump had taken him a good twenty meters into the air, over the wall. His eyes quickly darted around, identifying every single guard and every single turret which they had to pilot. Still in mid-air, two of his hands gripped two guns, and he went to work.

He located the first guard that would react, a particularly quick-witted one on the wall to the left. His mind displayed the action in slow-motion to him, but in reality his gun was up in an instant and silently fired a ray which burst through the alien's head, leaving a gapping hole in the failing shield.

He identified the next one that'd be a problem, a guard to the right reaching for the alarm-button. His other gun had been heading to directly face that one before the first gun had even fired. His arms curled around, each shot less than half a second away from one another, and with each shot fell another guard or another turret was incapacitated. All shots were made in mid-air and to his opponents it must have been a sudden rain of lethal shots they could even remotely act, the shots just plunging through their shields. They were taken down in the order of the one that'd first harm him to the last which would. There were thirty guards and six turrets. All down from the spree of silent blasts from his quickly moving guns.

Kurt landed on the wall, breathing out in relief. He'd given himself a 6-4 chance of managing that. Fortunately, he hadn't missed a single time. No alarm, those inside the prison didn't even know it had happened.

'Did you see that!?'
'Th-that's impossible...'
'Wait, that man is...'
'… Kurt Fortitude...!'

… Oh, yeah, they're there, too, Kurt thought as he put his guns back in their holsters. Kurt looked down in mild surprise at the prisoners that had been working night-time with digging or building inside the walls. It seems his hood had fallen back upon his jump, letting the prisoners easily identify him in the light from the prison walls. They were... in bad states, tired and torn, but... Now they were looking up at where he stood in the spotlight. Oh, this was the elation he had as a young rebel... Well, better try it again.

He gave them a smile, his charming little confidence-boosting smile which brought men to fight for him.

'The Ruwdans have poor night-vision, so they're relatively easy to surprise at night. Oh, and the shields you had so great problems with when wielding bullet-guns do not work against their own ray-guns. They're shields against less advanced species.' He informed, smiling as he grabbed the blast-bomb. 'They won't leave you alone even if you hand me over. So tell me, humans of Earth. How many of you would fight with me to reclaim your planet?' Kurt was mildly aware of a communicator blinking on the waist of one of the aliens, meaning someone was trying to call him. This in turn meant he wouldn't get an answer and someone would be alarmed.

'…' The soldiers quickly exchanged looks, and it was clear they knew they didn't have much time. Kurt could imagine their position. In one hand, who could trust this man who showed up from nowhere? On the other hand, he was someone who had extensive knowledge on how to fight Ruwdans, it could therefore be the best chance they got.

'We'll fight.' One told grimly, and Kurt respectfully nodded with a determined smile.

'Great.' He lobbed the blast-bomb behind him before making a dramatic jump forward. His eyes scanned the prisoners. He estimated that about 70% of them would actually go. That wasn't bad. Of course, many of the prisoners were still asleep and sealed, but he just needed a task-force to start out with for the moment.

The explosion went off behind him, opening the way. He took up his three extra ray-guns and gave it to those his eyes saw as most worthy. They accepted, grimly. He then gave the map to a fourth guy.

'Follow the map to the place indicated. There's a basement under the rug, follow the tunnel to the end. They shouldn't find you there. Shoot any seeker droids you see. I'll keep your backs free.' He told them. They seemed to hesitate, given he was only one, but then there were the skills he had shown previously. They nodded, and got going.

… So, what Kurt was doing was exactly what he had been doing on Qeetu. He'd failed previously, and he'd likely fail again. He gave himself a 1-30. That's a 1 against 30, meaning he's thirty times more likely to fail than he was to succeed. But, while the odds in the great scale of things were against him, he could ensure the chances were as good as possible in all the smaller events on the way. He would, for instance, give the troops a 2-1 to come back to base undetected. Twice as likely to succeed as to fail. The last batch of soldiers he tried saving had failed, but these he had a good feeling about. He could get this rebellion going yet. He was Kurt Fortitude, after all.

Oh, here came the first batch of enemies through the door. Brutally unprepared for Kurt's immediate flurry of shots downing the first line instantly. He gave himself a 20-1 against unprepared enemies like this. However, the next batch would be more ready, reducing the chances to 5-1. That is, unless he relocated to a surprising location, then it's up to 15-1. With that in mind, Kurt dashed to a new location...

__________________

On the road again. Kurt drove in a little van across a deserted road, looking at the map in front of him. A human presence in the previous country had now been established, he was now travelling westwards towards the next. It was just one of many, many uprisings that he had established across the world in his trips. Unfortunately, he couldn't give this one particularly good odds. 1-4 that they'll survive the month assuming they established contact with the other groups Kurt had created, 1-16 otherwise. … But it was worth it. Humans had a tenacity to overcome the odds, and with Kurt spreading small uprisings everywhere, the Ruwdans had to spread themselves slim to quell the many rebellions. And, in a bunch of rebellions with small odds, a few would strike true and become true thorns in the Empire's sides with their victories.

Naturally, with Kurt travelling around like this as an augmented Qeetu that severely outperformed any Ruwdan grunt, their priority was to take him down before he created more rebellions. But, by spreading the word of his name far and wide so even humans knew it, they were actually helping them out by making his name famous. Men were more likely to follow a man who's name they knew their enemies feared. Funny how that works.

Kurt spotted a seeker droid in the distance. He casually continued driving with his right hand while his left grabbed a ray-gun, directing it and shooting a red blast which hit and caused the droid to crash down into the ground. … Had to keep those pests out of the skies. Now, then. Where'd he raise the next rebellion, maybe? He'd have to infiltrate a command structure again to allow his hacker-node which he brought from his home-world to download information about where they were keeping military prisoners, he figured with a smile. This was going to be as dangerous as ever.

__________________

Cities were always fun. So many places to hide and so much information to steal. Unfortunately, they were also commonly overrun with hostiles. Rebellions commonly did not start in cities. But, they were an excellent place to find what you needed, as Kurt intended on using.

Kurt stood in an office-room, staring down at the computer which his hacked-node was planted on with his arms crossed. He had successfully infiltrated the building through a back-door and made his way in here using information about the schedules of the Ruwdans that worked here. Downloading, downloading. The place was extremely tidy, the skies outside bright with the middle of the day.

The information flashing on the screen... was exactly what he wanted. It was information on where the resources for the large space-crafts in orbit were coming from. They only rarely got reinforcements from other parts of the galaxy, so they had to get food and such from Earth. And now, Kurt would be able to lay claim to the information of where and how it got there...

The door opened. Kurt blinked in surprise. So too did the Ruwbar that came in, who suddenly froze seeing Kurt's extremely famous face standing staring down at the computer. For roughly a second, as the download was going from 90% to 91%, the two stood silently staring at one another with alarmed expressions.

'INTR-' The Ruwdan's shout was blasted through by Kurt's ray-gun, which his hand had instantly drawn and fired upon the voice of the alien started filling the space. Although Kurt had been very efficient with dispatching the one who noticed him, someone else clearly had heard the Ruwdan's shout because the alarm went a few seconds later.

'Shit.' Kurt cursed as the chances of successful infiltration and success just went from 5-1 to, well, 5-4? That guy wasn't supposed to show up today! He'd double-checked that! Stick to your schedules, bloody aliens!

He knew the guards were coming. But, the download was almost complete. 94%. There was only one door in, which the Ruwdan had opened. Kurt slammed it shut and ran over to the table. Grabbing the computer, he moved it off the table so he could move to ram it against the door. That's when the blasts came through the wall to his right and blasted apart the windows to his left with a resounding crash of glass shattering.

'SHIT.' Sure, why would they come through the door? Their blasts go through the walls! Kurt threw himself into the corner and fired back with both his ray-guns, unable to see where the enemy was but hopefully being able to hold them back for a few more seconds...!

97%... 98%... Close enough. Kurt looked back and instinctively shot down both seeker droids that had drifted around to face him outside the window with two quick successive shots with a single gun while the other still aimed for the wall. Now, then. Ways out? … Kurt quickly dashed across the room, snapped up the hacked-node the instant the download hit 100%, and...!

'… WHOP!' Kurt jumped, wide-eyed as he flew outside the shattered window towards the rooftop of a neighbouring sky-scraper. Behind him, a flurry of ray-blasts completely obliterated the remains of the wall. No time to hesitate for even a second. The roof was much too exposed.

Kurt stuck his hacker-node in a pocket and drew his guns, quickly blasting a hole in the roof in front of him which he quickly dove into, the Ruwdans in the building behind him already starting to fire inaccurate shots that Kurt refused to trust wouldn't get lucky. He quickly rolled on the floor below, breathing out in relief as he looked at the stunned humans in the office-environment around him...

'Good day.' He saluted with a ray-gun, quite aware of how he in his cloak, with two ray-guns and this very famous face much have come across to them. Now, then. No time to waste. Making full use of his augmented strength, Kurt dashed full speed. His full speed was way faster than any human could catch up to. Using his guns, he blasted holes in the sides of buildings in front of him, making giant leaps across the streets while his eyes attentively checked for signs of pursuit. … Shit, that's a lot of seeker droids... The skies above him were practically swarming with them! Just a report of his sighting could cause THIS much activity! Kurt felt both honoured and kind of frightened!

Dodging into buildings, avoiding the fire from the seeker droids, he made an estimate of his chances. Not good. They knew where he was. He ran through another office-building, aware that he couldn't shoot that many seekers and that they flew faster than he could run. This, er, might be his final mistake, Kurt analysed...

The sound of an explosion suddenly sounded out somewhere outside, a bit away, making Kurt flinch. Were they using heavy artillery to take him out while in the city!? … No, wait, that explosion was a bit far away...?

'-Sir! Kurt Fortitide, come in, sir!' His radio suddenly called out. Kurt blinked in surprise. That radio... he only used it to communicate with other rebels, but because he was so much on his own, they usually never could contact him. But this time... Holstering a gun, he took out his radio and pressed the button.

'This is Kurt Fortitude, over.' He said.

'Two streets to the east! We'll be there in 30 seconds!' … Well, Kurt thought. Isn't that nice?

'I'll be there.' He quickly spun east, grinning a little. The explosion... It was a ground-to-air missile, was it? They were clearing the skies. Oh, dear. He could hear a fire-fight. These rebels were being confident. So, he looked out the window in the direction he had to go. He was at around the fifteenth floor, and he had to get down to the ground. It was really dangerous on the ground, as seekers were all over. If only he could get something that was much harder to shoot at...

… A seeker droid, flying like an annoyed helicopter around the building to find him, was passing in front of the windows to his left. The idea that occurred to him was the dumbest idea he'd ever had, but for it to work, he had to act instantly. No time to calculate odds.

He shot a hole through the window, and jumped. The seeker droid immediately tried to spin to shoot him, but he passed below it. Kurt identified the bars which were made for the droid to land on the ground on... and he latched onto it with one arm. The seeker immediately dipped, not powerful enough to hold up both its own smaller shape and Kurt's weight. In addition, it began to spin because Kurt was putting weight on the right side. However, because of Kurt's initial direction, it was moving down the street he wanted to go.

'WOOOOOO...!' Red rays started flying after him as an excited Kurt held on for dear life as he span with the seeker droid that desperately tried to regain balance. Spinning... was entirely fine with Kurt. He held out a ray-gun straight forward with his free hand, and the targets just flew into his ray-line. He fired, over and over, and as he spun his augmented mind was making calculations of which seekers to fire at and where to direct his hand. The shots flurried off in all directions, and seekers all around him were exploding and falling as he spun downwards along with the street. The reason he'd rather not go out on foot was that a seeker could take him out from behind... but like this, that danger was nullified...!

'WAH!' He suddenly had to jump, as he realized the seeker he held onto was careering into the building to the right. And he found... that he was falling from a bit higher than he had counted on. Well, it wasn't the fifteenth floor, at least? He blinked in mid-air, as he suddenly heard what was coming down the street.

Cars. The rebels were driving around in multiple cars, wielding Ruwdan ray-guns and rifles, and the air behind them was filled with smoke. The contents of that explosion he had heard? It meant the seekers had to come down on their level, and there they could easily be shot down. Nicely done, although it only had a very limited area effect. Oh, look. They seem to be staring in stunned surprise at how Kurt was falling straight down at the streets from the fifteenth floor with a rain of downed blazing seeker droids behind him. Was that such an uncommon sight?

'Gah!' Kurt felt first his legs and then his arms complain as he struck them down into the ground to soften the blow before he rolled forward. O-ow. OK, even with an augmented body, that fall was pushing it. Kurt made a pained face as he dashed and jumped into the back of a rebel car as it drove past at considerable speed. Fortunately, he had just destroyed the seeker droids guarding this direction, only those behind them were a danger now.

'Sir! Are you alright!?' He was quickly asked as Kurt held on with one hand and directed to shoot down pursuing seeker droids with the ray-gun in the other hand through the window behind him. Other rebel cars joined up, humans standing on the back of them firing rifles, the seeker droids falling like flies. Blasts came back from the seekers, which took down a number of cars themselves, but with the frequency the seeker droids were being shot down and the speed of the cars... they were getting away. They were clearing the city-borders now, leaving the sky-scrapers behind...

'… Gah.' Kurt leaned back, breathing heavily on the back of the current car. He had totally forgotten to calculate odds there, but he had to have just cleared a 1-5. And the chance that the rebels came to help him... 1-30?

'Sir. We've been looking for you.' A hopeful soldier looked down on him as they drove away. 'The forces you've built have grown strong. We've all joined forces and we're fighting the enemy back. We're ready to take back Earth.' … Kurt smirked up at the soldier, his own limbs still echoing in pain. Well, nothing a bit of rest could handle. Taking back Earth, eh...

'… Alright. I'll judge you ready. And I know just the operation for us...' Kurt took out his hacker-node from his pocket, and smirked at the sticky blob of electric substance that could stick to technology, access it and download information. This time, they'd struck gold. Looks like he had all the information he needed now.

__________________

It was pretty amazing, to be allowed to drive into a town filled with armed humans that were loyal to him. After so long, Kurt was used to seeing enemies everywhere and allies only where he could free them himself, but... He lost count of how many soldiers gave him grateful looks and saluted. He saluted back. It was the right thing to do.

They eventually reached the city-halls. People had by now heard by radio that Kurt Fortitude himself had an operation in mind, and soldiers gathered here from all over the world was heading into the big building to hear the plan. Kurt eventually found himself in the front of a briefing, many commanders watching him and waiting for his words. He had placed his hacked-node on a computer and allowed it to save the information so he could show it. Now, then.

'Gentlemen. We're going to take back space.' There was a bit of stunned silence, but they awaited to see what more Kurt had to say. Kurt smiles, and continued.

'If we control space, we control the planet. Ruwbar can only send so many ships to a remote planet like this.' Kurt told his gathered soldiers as he brought up the schematics of the ships onto the screen, the soldiers looking quite intently at them and at their famous commander. 'Because they can rarely get supplies from elsewhere, this means their ships need to get their supplies from Earth. They make sure the supplies are safe using enslaved humans in a very secure system that I just stole all information about.' Kurt grinned as he brought up information on a fake company of humans which gathered the resources and sent it up to the Ruwdan vessels.

'We're going to infiltrate the company and then infiltrate the resources. The Ruwdans will send our soldiers up to their ships and not even know about it. From there, we will then take their ships.' He told them his seemingly implausible plan.

'It's going to be uncomfortable, but you're going to be in the bottom of the resources. He tells me the guards only check the top wares, and then assume the rest is more of the same. Investigating every single package would be such a hassle, after all.' Kurt said, smirking at them. 'This is where we have our opening. The resources will be delivered on-time. They'll tighten the security on their resources after this, so we'll only get one chance. Not to mention all the workers that'll be executed should we fail. I'd say our odds of success are about 2-3. That's better than ever.' He grinned about sharing his little calculated odds to the soldiers.

'Are you with me?' Kurt asked.

The soldiers grunted in approval, and it seemed unanimous. Kurt nodded in approval.

'Alright. Let's get to work.'

__________________

There was a window of opportunity between when the resources were gathered and when they were then transported onto the shuttles to be transferred up to the ships in orbit. That's when they infiltrated the warehouse using the information Kurt had downloaded, which directed them exactly where they needed to go. And, inside the warehouse... they were greeted by sacks upon sacks upon sacks of potatoes. Seemed like the Ruwbans had developed quite the taste for these starchy, tuberous crops. Nothing else to it, it was time to infiltrate the sacks of potatoes, then.

It had been very uncomfortable. Being stuck in a sack of potatoes being loaded onto a space-craft was not an experience Kurt wanted to experience way too often. But, all his soldiers were doing it, and so would he. Other men made sure they weren't found out while infiltrating, and when they were all in the rest fled the scenes. They would also stage attacks on several key-targets while this operation in space was taking place.

There were two ships in orbit, and luckily they took their resources at the same time to limit travel-time. Just one before the other. The lift-off was harsh, the soldiers were being squashed together with the food without belts as they took off, but they stayed alive. They wouldn't be hungry for a while after this.

It would appear that they hadn't been found. That was good news. Kurt kept breathing potatoes as he felt them lift off into orbit from the G-forces he was being exposed with. No dampeners on the resource shuttles, huh?

They were loaded into the hangar. They were being lifted. Kurt held his breath. It seemed to be going fine. He was placed down, who knows where, and... left there. … Nothing moved. Patience. Wait a little while. He was definitely on the ship, he felt the unnatural grip of their artificial gravity on his body. … Alright, time to move.

With the press of a button his troop of soldier suddenly burst through the potato-sacks inside the hangar of the ship. Facing them were but the unprepared workers of the Ruwdan ship and one or two odd guards. For Kurt and his troop, this was child's play. 36-1 that they don't take any damage. Kurt's guns went to guard to guard, sniping them down with hand-held ray-guns, this was so much of a routine they didn't even wear shields. Simple. But, now they'd be more prepared from now on.

They went through the corridors, shooting down the opposition. The metal of the ship could resist their guns to a degree, but they had to be careful not to fire directly into the side of the ship or they'd risk making holes. However, as they advanced, something was very clear.

'There's been a considerable lack of enemy troops.' One of his soldiers reported.

'They're likely regrouping further down or on the bridge.' Kurt said. 'The bridge is where I'll control the ship from. It'll be hard to get in there, the elevators are the only entrance.' Kurt nodded, looking at the schematics of the ship which he had inside his mind due to having dowloaded them way earlier. He noted a shining little jewel.

'It would appear they've left us the armoury.' He smiled, a plan brewing up in his head. 'I'll take the bridge. Can I leave the rest of the ship to your group?'

'What are our odds?' The soldier grinned at Kurt, who smirked back at the soldier's reference to his habit.

'They got to be grouping up. You're no slackers either, though, and you're better trained than they are. I'll give you a 3-2.' Kurt analysed.

'Good enough. Good luck, sir!' They nodded to one another and split up into two groups.

__________________

He knew there was likely a large enemy presence on the bridge. His two guns were seated in his holsters as the elevator travelled upwards. He had four other troopers with him, their rifles ready. They knew they were on the eve of a great shoot-out.

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed heavily, closing his eyes and calming down. In moments, they'd arrive at the floor and who knows how many enemies would be staring at them. But, this was the only way in. He saw the door pass in front of him, the elevator slow down.

He knew there were two elevators into the bridge. The enemy troops would likely be watching both. They came through this one. His blood pumped in excitement, his guns ready to let loose...

An elevator door opened. Gunfire shot through it into the hall of the bridge. The Ruwdans couldn't see in, because Kurt had used a smoke-bomb to obstruct their view. However, the heavily armed Ruwdans simply unloaded everything they had into the elevator to respond to the fire. Since the doors didn't open at the same time, they could focus firepower on eliminating the gunmen in one elevator before turning to the other...

Except that's when Kurt Fortitude's elevator door opened, and he leapt out. The enemy Ruwdans blinked in stunned surprise at how he had darted out of the elevator when it had barely been open. They hadn't realized, but the contents of the other elevator had just been a stationary automatic turret from the armoury, hidden behind one of Kurt's smoke-bombs. Now. To work.

The bridge was a half-circle with controls and options. A thirty fifteen soldiers stood with guns directed. The problem was General Nuvac. Himself, he was only a Ruwdan. But the cruelly emotionless creature was standing right in front of the window to see out into space. A blast from a ray-gun would sear straight through him and the glass. A physical blow would be blocked by the blue shimmering shield around him. Well. That was troublesome. He didn't intend on dying alone. Kurt gave himself a 4-7 chance of clearing this unhurt.

Two enemies had already been aiming at the elevator, expecting this. Those two got the first shots from Kurt's blasters, the two stumbling back leaving a hole in the formation. Then, the guns drifted over. Kurt's own soldiers opened fire, their shots immediately eliminating four more opponents. Kurt focused on the enemies aiming for him, and his quick shots with his guns efficiently blasted through their heads where they stood nicely in line.

However, the enemy had been ready for them and knew exactly what to do. Their blasts quickly redirected to the elevator they had come from and opened fire. Kurt became aware of that his soldiers were getting plunged through by rays, their screams of pain heard behind him. He couldn't stop. With a quick flurry of his guns, he blasted the heads off all the remaining guards before diving down below a console. However, before he could, a gaping hole had suddenly opened in his leg.

He'd been hit. He gripped his leg, which there now was a gapping wound that had burned straight through. It hurt. If he hadn't been augmented, this would surely have been the end of him. The one who had shot was, of course, the remaining General Nuvac, standing confidently by the window with a ray-gun in hand. … His own soldiers were dead. It was only the two of them, now.

'I must admit, the elevator distraction was clever, but you're all out of tricks. Now I'll end you before you try something stupid.' Nuvac told, in his usual stern tone. Kurt gasped out silently, but his lips curved into a smile in the midst of the pain. His hand sought into his pocket and picked out the hacker-node, lightly lobbing it onto the middle control-panel. He then threw himself to the right behind a different console, just before Nuvac's ray-blast shot straight through the console he was hiding behind.

'You mean... like this?' Kurt asked, as the pod shot electricity through the control panel. Nuvac's grunt was audible, and it told Kurt to jump out of the way before Nuvac shot through his head because his voice had given off his location. That's when all the lights went out. The window turned black, preventing the light of space to come in as well.

Kurt used his good leg to dash out into the open, sweating from the pain. He was briefly illuminated in red by the beam extending from Nuvac's gun through the air where he'd just been. Ruwdans had poor night vision. That's why Kurt had prepared to turn off the lights as soon as he reached the bridge, if he could do so early. However, each time Nuvac shot, he'd see where Kurt was. He's also an intelligent general, and could predict his opponent's moves. In comparison, Kurt had to actually reach him to take him out. Odds were against him. Kurt gave himself a 1-3 chance. Though, that'd easily have been 1-12 if the lights weren't out.

Kurt dashed, his right leg causing grievous pain as he supported his weight on it. Taking from the sound cues, Nuvac fired straight at him. Kurt saw the hand-motions, and spun to the right to avoid the shot, but the red blast still left a hole in his cloak and a sear across his chest.

Nuvac saw the move in the red light and calibrated, and Kurt had to break and bow forward to precisely dodge the shot going over his back. Nuvac aimed at his legs, because they were in a line. Kurt resisted the impulse to jump, because he knew how vulnerable he'd be in mid-air. Taking a bet, he curved himself and leapt out with his left leg first. Due to his placement, Nuvac's shot went straight through the hole that already existed in Kurt's right leg.

Kurt threw himself forward, taking a final bet. A red blast shot, and it pierced the side of his stomach, though on an angle that only took a small part. In turn, Kurt landed on his side beside Nuvac. He held a gun down below, and fired up. His own blast shot through Nuvac's gun, obliterating it, and the blast carried on to harmlessly sink into the roof. Kurt was about to breath out in relief and pain, except Nuvac's boot was now heading to kick him in the face. Kurt fired again. Nuvac's leg was blasted through, and Nuvac wasn't augmented. The Ruwdan cried out in pain and fell backwards, his eyes spinning around by his fish-like head...

'… KAH!' Kurt forced himself up on his left leg, a hand going to cover his left side, which had been shot. His body quivered from the pain and his eyes kept themselves half-closed. Though, he still could smile, for he held a gun in his left hand directed down at his defeated opponent. '… There. I won.' He proclaimed.

'… GNF!' Nuvac made a noise as his leg detached, as Ruwdan injured limbs do, assuming they hadn't died. Nuvac glared up at him, infuriated. 'And what, exactly, did you hope to accomplish with this victory?' He asked, a searing anger in his voice. … That was the most emotion Kurt had ever seen in Nuvac. Suppose being shot through the leg would do that to you.

Using his augmentation, Kurt used the hacker-pod to check how much control he had. He had complete control of the ship using his mind's wireless connection to the hacker-node, it turned out. Smirking, Kurt turned the ship towards the planet they were orbiting and caused the windows to show the outside again. He saw Earth, and the other Ruwdan vessel. They had already fired their victory flare. Proud of his soldiers, Kurt shot his as well. It was a signalling flare built into the Ruwdan space-crafts, but whatever they were really made for, Kurt used them for both sides to know the ship was theirs.

'Earth is ours again. You've been fought off. That's what happens when you hunt Kurt Fortitude.' He grinned at the downed Nuvac. 'Who knows? Maybe we'll go reclaim Qeetu next? I'd give our chances a 1-50...' He laughed a little, high on the relief of success combined with excessive pain. Who knows? It'd be more difficult, given it was within Empire space. He'd give them a 1-50 to take it back. … Though, yeah. If they succeeded, they'd likely face all of the Ruwdan Empire. He'd give THAT a 1-5000...

'… In any case. I'm going to send you back. Tell them I'm going to live out my life peacefully on Earth, the only reason I struck them back was because they threatened me. As long as they leave me alone, I'll behave...' Kurt said, breathing out as he faced the impossibility that was fighting the whole Empire. The future wasn't looking easy. But if he could give them some time with that, then...

Nuvac was laughing. … Well, it sounded more like clucking, given how a Ruwdan sounded when laughing, but Kurt knew that was laughing. Which was even more unnatural than Nuvac being angry. It was... extremely disturbing. Kurt glared at him with a frown.

'Saving Qeetu, eh? Poor QRT42. You don't even know.' Nuvac said in a highly ominous tone. Annoyed, Kurt refused to let him sound so superior on his own.

'I'll have you know, I prefer Kurt Fortitude from now on-' Kurt started, trying to sound cooler than Nuvac, when all of a sudden a huge jerk in the ship caused him to almost stumble off his good leg. His eyes went wide, for the power just went out, but despite that the power went out the entire room was brightened by absurdly bright red light. There was no sound, but there was clearly something behind him. He started slowly turning his head, but-

'Don't turn your head. You'll blind yourself.' Nuvac told on the floor, his eyes closed. Kurt... didn't know what was going on, a great fear rising in the midst of his chest, but the Ruwdan general's words did not sound like a lie. He waited in complete silence, the bridge brightened in red, until eventually the light vanished and was replaced by darkness. … Shaking, Kurt eventually turned around...

It was gone. The Earth... was gone. There were small black asteroids and charred remains, but the rest was blown away. … What was that? It was the same red as from the blasters. Just a lot bigger. … It didn't take much figuring out to understand what had happened. But... where was the source!? How big was it!? And... and... 'Ah...'

'We did the same to Qeetu. They were far too unruly to let exist. We've got you to thank for that. This world too, became too willing to fight because you were inspiring them. I almost respect you for your ability to make a whole world fight with you. However, I have to ask...' Nuvac said, and Kurt felt powerless to do anything but listen.

'How does it feel to be the cause of doom for two different worlds?' He chuckled at Kurt, who stood frozen staring out aimlessly into space.

… They had blown away the other ship with that blast as well, Kurt suddenly realized as there was no trace of it. Not only that, but there had been many Ruwdans on the planet as well. … The power came back. He suddenly determined it was of great importance to access security-cameras inside the ship in order to check the condition of his troops on the ship...

'Ah.' … He hadn't even realized. They were being rounded up by the remaining Ruwdans. They were being executed, and he was alone. He hadn't even won on the ship. … Why... were they still fighting? So many of their own kind had just been killed by their own blast. Why...?

'So, you get to kill the General that ruled your home. Congratulations. But your journey ends here, I'm afraid. You will never overcome the Ruwdan Empire, and your name is synonymous with death for whoever you come across. We'll never stop hunting you. … So what will you do, Kurt Fortitude?'

Rage gripped him. He directed a ray-gun down at Nuvac, his fist shaking... but he couldn't fire. Just because the General had congratulated Kurt on getting to kill him, a vein of stubbornness wanted to defy his words at all costs. Was Kurt being manipulated to letting him live, even at this point...? …

Nuvac chuckled, seeing his hesitation. 'Say, how do you fancy your chances now? I hear you're pretty fond of giving yourself odds, eh?' Nuvac mocked him.

That's it. Kurt fired thrice. Nuvac cried out in pain as each of his remaining limbs were blasted through and then detached in short order. Kurt then reached down and gripped around the limb-less alien's waist, and lifted.

'There, lighter to carry.' Kurt said, anger in his voice as he carried the General over before throwing him into the elevator, the shouting Ruwdan glaring angrily at him as he closed the elevator and sent it down. He didn't have time. His human soldiers had held the enemies from coming to the bridge, but they were all down now. Using his control of the ship, he found that the bridge could be detached as an escape-pod. The grips released, and he used his mind to turn the bridge in space.

… He sat down in a corner, staring up into the roof as the ship went into light-speed. His face was pale and blank of emotions, his gut wrenched in guilt and fear. The ship automatically gave suggestions for destinations, each of them populated...

No matter what he did, he'd be the cause of death of everyone where he visited. Because the Ruwdan Empire had marked him. … Ah. … Suppose he just had to ensure they didn't know where he went next. He'd throw them for a bit of a loop, he supposed... … … Oh, he was crying. He had really liked Earth. He'd gotten to know so many nice people there... … … He didn't bother to wipe his tears as he curled up in a corner, once again the only survivor of a planet.

Suppose he should start with identifying the super-weapon. … Maybe if he could hack that, then he could direct it at their capital, and...

Yeah. Kurt's made a living using Ruwdan technology against them. Time for the ultimate heist, then? … Should just be 1-10^9, or something. Kurt chuckled through his sadness as he already thought of his next plan of action...

Going Home

By @Holmishire.

Arrows flashed in quick succession, and two men dropped to the ground, dead. Their native guide screamed, but the others drew their muskets and cutlasses, aiming at the trees as they formed a protective circle.

At the centre of the circle, Ariana carefully loaded her pistol, watching the leaves for any sign of movement. She was a tall woman, of tan skin and long, brown hair, not unlike the men under her employ.

Another arrow shot out of the dark, and a third sailor dropped to his kness, his musket falling to the ground as he clutched at his gut.

After a moment's hesitation, Ariana took a small vial of greyish-rose liquid, flicked off the cap, and tossed the contents down her throat. Almost instantly, her body relaxed while her mind sharpened. Her heavy leather boots were planted firmly in the bush, and through them she could feel the vibrations of the earth, stretching up into the trees. Leaves rustled to the left, and—

Bang.

A black-haired man tumbled from above, and Ariana quickly reloaded her pistol.

"He was only a scout—but the rest will certainly now know where to look. Grab Coco, but leave the bodies. They'll slow us down too much." With her free hand, Ariana gripped a pendant hanging from her neck. I'm coming, my son.

---

Biocco bellowed out orders as sailors and labourers alike scrambled to load the expedition's supplies onto the rowboats, precious acquisitions included. Assuming the preparations continued as they did now, he fully expected them to be able to set sail within the next hour—hopefully before the natives reached their camp.

A slim, pink-haired woman stepped out of the chaos and placed herself immediately in front of the large tan man. "Biocco, please. The scout's survivors will never be able to reach us in time if you don't send help."

"Any reinforcements we send will be more men we'll be forced to leave behind. We can't afford to wait."

"You can't leave Ariana—"

"The 'dora gave me authority to prepare the ships. Until she tells me otherwise, that means I decide how best to keep my men alive." He pushed the young translator aside. "If you aren't coming with us, then by all means wait here for your beloved conquistadora to save you."

Metzi watched Biocco stride off towards one of the rowboats, shouting at some of the sailors who were moving too slowly, before she turned her gaze to the carrack floating out in the bay.

She balled her fists.

"I will not let you abandon her."

---

Bastard daughter of the Empire's illustrious Queen, Ariana had been sent to this new world in order to prove her worth to the Crown. She was well liked by her men, and though her mission was supposedly one of conquest, she had been quick to befriend the pink-haired natives.

Not until now had she realized the very real threat this alliance formed, for though she had gained the favour of the coastal tribes, the dark-haired tribes of the mainland were not so quick to accept the foreign presence.

Hiding beneath a great fallen log, Ariana, Coco, and the other three survivors of her scouting party waited with bated breath for the natives to pass by, their pink-haired guide having long since abandoned them to the woods.

Ariana gripped a hand tightly across Coco's mouth, listening. She could hear footsteps across the leaf-littered soil, jogging past in their search. As soon as the last of the steps faded into silence, she released him, and the man let out a sigh of relief, cut short but a sharp intake of breath.

Ariana pulled her scarf from her neck and turned to her injured companion.

By the man's continued survival, she felt it fair to assume the arrow had missed any vital organs. Still, she couldn't yet remove the arrow without doing more damage, so she settled for tying the scarf around the wound.

"You could leave me," Coco muttered.

"You could shut up," Ariana responded. She finished tying the makeshift bandage and rose to her feet, supporting the injured man with her arm and shoulder as she did. "I'll not return home a coward who left her men to die."

---

Metzi heaved herself onto the deck, the wet leathers she wore weighing heavily on her frame.

Glancing around, she saw no guards, as expected—all hands were devoted to preparing the ship for departure, thinking only to escape the enemy on its way.

The second mistake—after betraying the conquistadora by abandoning her on foreign soil—that would be their undoing.

The native woman crept across the deck, ignored by the men heaving supplies up on deck from the rowboats. Not a soul noticed as she snuck to one of the crates, and pulled out a knife to pry open its lid, nor as she drew from it a small cask of purple liquid, nor as she crept down the stairs below deck.

Not a soul noticed her as she later dived back in the water, swimming for shore.

Not a soul noticed until smoke poured out from the hatch, and cries of terror rang out across the ship.

---

Standing at the crest of a hill overlooking the shoreline, Ariana and her fellow survivors watched as the carrack burned below. Not even Coco, the arrow still firmly embedded in his gut, made a sound, as they watched their hope of home cast into the sea as nothing more than ashes.

The tiny pendant hung heavy against Ariana's breast.

@RomanAria will be assisting me in judging this Labour's entries. Expect their reviews alongside my own.

The Twelve Labours: General Discussion

@terminal a clarification...... on a clarification, actually. From the labor text, the impression I'm getting is there's Character, who's a source of inspiration/authority/idolatry/whathaveyou, and that character's supposed followers destroy the world. Then in the clarifications, there's this:

<Snipped quote>

Which is just different enough to be a cause for concern to me, the guy who perpetually misinterprets every labor challenge. Is it true to say that the Character must be the original source of the destruction, like directly complicit in the destruction? Or would a situation in which, like, the followers simply twist the Character's will or wishes into tragic results..... does that fit the bill?

Like hypothetically if I was writing a story about Jesus looking at the Crusades, would I have to add a part where Jesus orders the Crusade himself only to regret it later, or would the Pope calling for genocide in Jesus' name be sufficient to clear the challenge?

@mdk

If they were directly complicit then it would necessarily not go against their own wishes at the time.

TTL: The Tenth Labour

The Twelve Labours

The Tenth Labour, slumbering in the foothills of Erytheia, awakens. For those of you who are just dropping in and have no idea what this is, take a peek at The Twelve Labours Introduction Thread (it's a quick read, I promise).

Let the Tenth Labour commence. Submission ends at Objective Midnight, July 11th.

Entry Rules:

1. Jaffar's (left) thumb.
2. Follow the standard guild rules.
3. Obey the Dark Lord Sauron's rules as well (just to cover all the bases).
4. Follow MY rules too. Let it never be said we did not warn you.
5. Send your entry to @Terminal by July 11th.
6. Be sure to include whether or not you want your story to remain anonymous! I will add your name only if I am given your permission!
7. Any explicit/mature material must be kept off-site. I will only post links to them with NSFW notices.
8. I reserve the right to simply toss out any story if it doesn't possess a basic modicum of good sense and taste. Don't make me.
9. All stories must adhere to a certain standard of quality expected of good storytelling.
10. You must use your own characters. Preexisting characters from franchise settings may only be alluded to.
11. If your setting is borrowed from a franchise, make sure to include a disclaimer and credit the original inventor of the setting used.

Prizes:

All winning entries will receive a forum trophy as well as a unique, custom forum title which they can activate and deactivate at their leisure. Additionally, winning entries of particularly exceptional quality will be awarded Challenge Accolades.

All winning entries will also be saved to a public archive, a link to which will be permanently available in my signature! I personally post in the News and Discussion subforums of the guild to congratulate and announce the winners as well. As a reminder, unless you specifically give me permission to include authorship of an entry, every posted story will remain anonymous (awarded trophies can also be hidden in your user profile, so you will not show up if people are examining the trophy groups).

The Tenth Labour

"I am father of Hope and Civilization, I am mother of Despair and Destruction. I take upon and embody the nature of man; wielded as a spear my power is great and terrible - I Am Want, ruler and slave of mortal minds, savior and destroyer of all."

Want

The Tenth Labour

The Tenth Labour

This Labour requires a character who is the object of Want - one whose mere existence is the impetus, drive, and source of others' power and actions. A singular entity, they must be the world and all other things, for what else might be the cause of such great and terrible things?

The Challenge

Write about your character inadvertently causing the destruction of their entire world - everything of import to them - by means of those who would fight because of them. Regardless of their own personal power, they should be helpless to stop those who would draw strength from their semblance. They must live beyond the death of all they know, but may otherwise be afflicted and set upon.

Clarification of the Challenge Parameters

This section exists specifically to ensure there is no ambiguity or ambivalence in what, precisely, the challenge requires of each participant. If you have any specific questions which are not addressed here, please send them to @Terminal for resolution.

For The Tenth Labour, I have asked you to write about a character inadvertently causing others to destroy everything they hold dear.

Q. The Labour requires a character who is the object of want?
A. More specifically, an object of either infatuation or idolization. Somebody whose existence, ideals, acts, or history are potential sources of inspiration, awe, and adoration - or terror. They need not be powerful in and of themselves, but they must be of sufficient note to serve as the center of your tragedy.

Q. They have to inadvertently cause the destruction of their entire world?
A. Their history, actions, or ideals - as elaborated upon above - should serve directly as causal factors that lead to everything they value being destroyed, against their own wishes.

Q. It has to be by means of those who would fight because of them?
A. Admiration and fear alike envisions shadows cast - perhaps your character has inspired a crusade of sorts? A revolution, a war, or maybe something more mundane like a chain of serial murders? Your character, because of who or what they are, or what they have done or what ideas they espouse, must be the causal force which drives other people to destroy everything.

Q. Regardless of their own personal power, they should be helpless to stop those fighting because of them?
A. History has an inexorable way of things. Ideas are conventionally indestructible. The power of Want grinds akin to a mill, unstoppable and blind. Whether your character is a mere mortal or a transcendent power, they should be incapable of stopping the events that transpire - either due to inability or unwillingness.

Q. They must live?
A. Everything else must be drawn down to ashes, but your character must live on - which shall serve as an ample lesson in complacency.

Q. How long can my story be?
A. As long as you feel is necessary. I will read any and everything submitted, irregardless of length, and write a review on it. Do not let the short three-day judging period dissuade you. If you have a 800,000 word brick for me, I will take it. Similarly, extremely short stories are also welcome. It is entirely possible for segues as short as three paragraphs long to clear the challenge.

Credits

Thanks again to @mdk, and the entire RPGC crew for helping with scheduling for The Twelve Labours!

Great thanks to @mahz and the other members of the guild staff for helping to renovate the guild and enabling the features that allow us to reward contestants and to advertise our presence.